mercenary physicians

how can a word so closely related to mercy be void of any vestage of human kindness? i found myself wondering what has happened to mercy in our world as i sat praying over our phonebook searching for a dentist who would have mercy on us.

mercy: 1a: compassion or forbearance shown esp. to an offender or to one subject to one's power. b: imprisonment rather than death imposed as penalty for first-degree murder 2a: a blessing that is an act of divine favor or compassion b:a fortunate circumstance 3: compassionate treatment of those in distress.

finally, got the bright idea to start at A and work my way through the hundreds of entries, until i found someone with an ounce of compassion in their heart.

my husband was much in need of the talents and mercy of a dentist yesterday. as i called, my voice began unbroken, but with each successive no. the brokennes crept through the phoneline, until one kind heavily accented woman of middle eastern descent spoke with me:

do you take emergencies?

yes.

how much do you charge? we don't have a job or insurance? we need to know before we get there.

she quoted a price.

can you work with us?

(little did i know she had quoted me a lesser price than usual)

when can we come in?

immediately. the doctor will be here until 2:15.

we live 45 minutes away, but we'll be there as soon as possible.

that kind doctor, masoud arami, stayed an hour past 2:15 and worked for a full hour and a half on my aching husband.

was he kind? i asked when danny returned home.

yes. he mumbled producing two prescriptions for which we had neither the money nor the insurance to cover.

i called my dear friend immediately to tell her the situation and get her advice. no answer.

i hopped in my car and began driving to town. we needed gas too, E was not a comforting sight and the twelve dollars in my pocket wouldn't cover everything we needed. but as i drove, i prayed one of my neandertal prayers, help God. help God. help God. woefully primitive, but effective (i learned that prayer from john wimber, btw).

i drove on, at the pharmacy i saw a dear friend, and said hi. he walked up beside me and stood with me at the counter as i handed the prescriptions to the guy in the white coat.

what are you doing here?

i am here to pay for your prescription.

i burst into tears that did not stop.

he told me how he'd been there. how he loved our family. his wife called and told me the same thing as i stood mid-aisle in front of the condoms (not a necessary detail, but one i vividly remember), weeping.

after filling my tank with gas, he said, we love you. let us know if you need anything. weeping i hugged him, then pulled away.

mercy.

i found mercy. it was humbling to receive their precious gift of mercy, but i was in no place to argue.

this was going to be a piece about the lack of mercy in medicine (something we really can't do without indefinately), but it is more a piece about the faithfulness of God, who is The Merciful Physician.

i told my friend that night when i got home, i had a shitty day but God is faithful. and i hope you find that to be the case in your life. whatever the circumstance, however dire, God is faithful.