Doctor Day in San Francisco
San Francisco, I am always rooting for you. You saved. My lungs. And I’m telling everyone why.
It has been a very long time since I first and last saw you. I know, I know… a visit from me is long overdue. Your vibrancy is unreal. From your glorious cable cars to your Pier 39 sea lions, you have a piece of my heart. It is not because you are home to Full House or the muse of Tony Bennett’s “I Left My Heart In San Francisco”. Instead, I arrived in your city with plans and an inhaler or two in hand.
I had been sick for days on this family vacation. While we regret not making our way across the Golden Gate Bridge or visiting Alcatraz, my being ill didn’t stop us from riding cable cars, browsing through Barnes & Nobles, gorging on fresh, meaty crab at Fisherman’s Wharf, and shopping for souvenirs.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t getting better with my inhalers and over-the-counter medicine, so it was time to see a doctor. He changed my life.
As a Chinese-American man with a Caucasian last name, Dr. Z adopted his step-father’s last name knowing the realities of racism within the melting pot. Sometimes curiosity breeds connection, so he shared because we asked. Even as a child, I already understood the privileges attached to a Caucasian last name. As if everyday life did not bring its own struggle, including the model minority myth, I knew one’s name could be an object of discrimination, hindering opportunities for people of colour.
In Dr. Z’s office, I noticed a picture frame humbly sitting on the credenza. The photo: Dr. Z with Hollywood legend, Gene Kelly. Growing up, I saw a lot of movies that were of my parents’ taste. We watched classic Hollywood films, including Kelly’s musicals, on TCM. From Singing in the Rain to Summer Stock to On The Town, he won me over with his talent as an actor, singer, and dancer. I wouldn’t call it a crush (my heart belonged to boybands back then), but fan girl I did when I saw their photo. I wondered if anyone ever recognized the movie icon with Dr. Z. Little did I know the star had passed away earlier that year.
As Dr. Z examined my beating heart and wheezy breath, his diagnosis was as expected: bronchitis. He prescribed the medication I needed, but more importantly, he advised that I quit inhalers when fully recovered. Inhalers and breathing apparatuses were all we knew when it came to my wellbeing. Dr. Z said that my dependency on inhalers would later deem them ineffective when actually ill. While his advice was logical and obvious, it never occurred to us because of my asthma. For years onward, I was inhaler-free unless necessary.
It was clear this visit with Dr. Z (and his selfie with Gene Kelly) was fate, and I am forever grateful. We left the doctor’s office enlightened and hopeful for my health. Paying and leaving with ease, we realized we had privileges that others did not have. There was a patient who didn’t have enough cash on-hand to pay for her visit. She had to leave a few of her belongings at reception, and could retrieve them upon her return with money for the rest of her bill. It was a reality check for us to witness the unfortunate lack of affordable healthcare for Americans.
On our final day in San Francisco, we enjoyed our last few rides of the infamous Powell-Hyde cable car, watching it rotate at the start/end of the line. I found it funny never feeling motion sickness with the hilly streets, yet the fear of falling off the vehicle was too real. Hold on!
We had lunch at a quiet restaurant. Where are the people? Our server encouraged us to visit the city’s new attraction, Aquarium of the Bay. From afar, we could see the lines were long, weaving through its parking lot. Must be its grand opening. We stared wistfully, knowing we had to leave the next day, hoping to return in the future.
