Doctoring Up a Moving Experience
When you move, you think about decorating, having furniture reupholstered, arranging a witty design of pictures and planting a garden that will look as if it might be a setting for Anne Hathaway’s cottage. And you have to find all new people to look after your house and yourself.
The last few days in Laguna De La Paz in the town of La Quinta, where Peaches and I have moved, have been beautiful. The sunrises have been pink and celadon, and the mountaintops frosted with snow circle the Coachella Valley.
But in spite of the snow, the space and the sky, there are still those small bits of machinery it takes to make a life run smoothly. My friend, classy Judith Miller, has given me the names and numbers of her plumber, electrician and an exterminator, which is a good start.
And you have to find doctors. Going to a new doctor is like going to a new school. Will the doctor like me? Will he be interested in my various malfunctions?
I knew it would be a special problem for me because of the cadre of ladies and gentlemen who took care of me in Pasadena. Dr. Richard Diehl, the orthopedic surgeon who works with my breakaway bones, is a good friend, as are his wife, Cathy, and their gorgeous dog. Dr. Diehl and I have always found something to laugh at even in moments that weren’t really funny. Surgeon Dr. Peter Ko and his wife, Mary, are two more friends, as are Dr. Donald Moyes and Dr. Arvid Underman. In addition to being esteemed doctors, they are able to find a laugh in the dark moments.
I had to have a toe repaired the other day, and John Pedalino, the young man from whom I bought my Laguna De La Paz house, drove me into the Huntington Memorial Hospital in Pasadena and waited while Dr. Diehl did some embroidery work and then drove me back to the desert, to my eternal gratitude.
Dr. Diehl and Cathy are coming to the La Quinta Golf and Tennis Resort for a couple of days of R&R;, at which time, Dr. Diehl will take out the stitches and remove a tenpenny nail that he seems to have left in my toe. Better care than that, there isn’t.
I am going to a handsome young dentist named Dr. Bruce Baumann, who went to Georgetown University. I lost a crown at a dinner party the other evening but fortunately did not swallow it. I palmed it daintily into my napkin and then went to Dr. Baumann the next day.
In the course of removing the bits and pieces of the old tooth, Dr. Baumann administered some Novocaine deftly, causing no pain. I said, “You do that very well.”
“Oh, you can teach a monkey to do that,” said Dr. Baumann modestly.
When I left, the young woman at the desk told me how much I owed Dr. Baumann and how much it would be to have the next crown replaced. I was tempted to go back into the inner sanctum and ask, “Could you please tell me where that monkey is practicing and how much he charges for a crown?”
You will be relieved to know I did not act smart. And when I inquired about prices from the young woman, she told me I’d had two crowns replaced and a root canal done. That is customarily the cost of a Bentley, so I was delighted with Dr. Baumann’s fees, as well as his skills.
I am going to an internist named Dr. Alan Kiselstein who took his residency at Cedars-Sinai. He is dignified, interested and sees his patients on the second of their appointment. He has obviously found a great ability, which I wish he would share with his colleagues. I’m trying to be stately and reserved, which is difficult for me to do when I have had doctors with whom I am accustomed to howling with laughter.
I plan to sweep into Dr. Kiselstein’s office with the presence of a duchess and not say anything silly. Wish me luck. I now have an internist, a dentist and an exterminator, and a lady can do quite well with those three for starters.
