Breakfast

When you are in Navajo country, frybread is a part of life- loved for it's taste and cultural significance, but often guiltily consumed due to it's association with diabetes and obesity.  

I was involved in a minor love affair with my own frybread sitting at the local diner for breakfast and enjoying my heavy dose of carbs for the week with a nice omelette while reading the news on my iPad.

Suddenly and quite directly I heard:

"Hi, Dr. Davis!"

Strangely it seemed as though it was coming from the seat across the table from me.  I thought I was having a stroke.  Actually, I was just so engrossed in my mail and the news that I hadn't noticed an elderly patient's daughter had walked up and taken the seat across from me in my booth.  

"Mom's doing well but she's tired and I wanted to know what you thought about some new medicine she got after you took care of her in the hospital".

We chatted for awhile and we talked about their plans for the day and the weekend and how her mother was out for a trip on another part of the reservation.

And weirdly I wasn't bothered at all by this.  I think if I were in New England it would have been easy to be irritated or put off by this.  Here is somebody coming along, interrupting your breakfast, your peace, your quiet, your non-interactive anti-social iPad reading.

But when I sit and think how beautiful it is to be part of a community, where people feel comfortable enough to walk up and join you at your table, and care enough to tell you about their lives- to me that is pretty moving.

And if we're becoming so closed off from each other in other areas of the country that we are bothered by people wanting to just share with us, then we really need to look at whatever the bigger problem is.

Nothing makes you feel more like a Country Doctor then people coming up and interrupting your breakfast or your grocery shopping to let you know how they're doing.  

I'm really quite blessed.