Dr. Richard Delany. My great PCP for close to a decade. If you know, you know: Marcus Welby, MD, or Doc Baker from Little House on the Prairie. Everyone needs a great PCP.
Dr. Delany — affectionately known as Dr. D — was the kind of doctor who’d make a house call on the rare occasion it was truly needed, or put you in his own car and drive you to the emergency room himself. Sometimes he’d just call ahead: “My patient is on the way, tell Dr. So-and-so I called.” A 2 a.m. return text? Sure. Would he sit through your appointment listening to your worries about your child’s health, even though your child wasn’t his patient? Also yes, partly to help the child, and partly to ease the patient’s anxiety.
Dr. D spent over 50 years as a physician, 46 of them at his own “little house” of an office in Milton. To be clear, it wasn’t actually his home… it just felt that way.
So what do you do when you get a notice that says, and I’m paraphrasing (or more honestly, interpreting): “Being your doctor has been the privilege of a lifetime. I did what I loved for 50-plus years. I learned so much from you, and I hope you learned as much from me. Despite my continued strength, passion, and energy, even at 79, it’s time to slow down and retire — for my own health and wellness, and so my grandchildren can see more of their papa, and I can teach them too.”
I repeat: what do you do? You panic. Then you bargain.
“Dr. Delany — cut your practice in half. Treat half of us and spend the time you save with your grandchildren.” Basically, I was asking him to keep half his children and send the rest off to find a new mother. The bargain, understandably, was rebuked.
Next comes begging. I told Dr. Delany, “Do you know what you and Tom Brady have in common? You both retired, and you both un-retired.” I even pulled out my last-ditch Godfather line: “We’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.” He refused it anyway. I considered next steps, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt a horse. (Godfather fans know exactly what I’m talking about.)
Once Reality Sets In
So once you’ve accepted it, what’s next? Find a new PCP. Where do you even start?
- Ask the doctor who’s guided you for the last decade for a referral.
- Ask family and friends who they see, and what their experience has been.
- Check in with your Facebook friends and other social circles.
- Ask AI. (Okay…don’t actually ask AI. I threw that in to see if you were still reading.)
And of course, check availability. Is the PCP you’re considering actually taking new patients — and are they willing to take on an over-thinker?
In Conclusion
Looking for a new, trusted PCP stirs up a lot of emotion, especially after a relationship as strong as this one. Fear sits right at the front of it…maybe even a flicker of your own mortality, if you’ve come to see your PCP as a true partner in keeping your health, wellness, and general sanity intact.
But moving from denial to acceptance eventually brings gratitude — for having been cared for, advised, and taught by a genuinely special healer.
This article is really just the tip of the iceberg. It opens the door to plenty of other questions worth exploring on their own, including:
- Why is it so hard to find a PCP?
- Despite the simple suggestions above, how do you actually find a great one?
- Why do PCPs spend so little time with their patients these days?
- What is a concierge doctor, and is it worth the financial investment?
- Why has our healthcare system become so specialized, when a specialist only addresses one piece of a complex whole?
- Unrelated to PCPs, but related to retiring: when should you retire?
- What are the practical and emotional family considerations around retirement, and how should people approach it?
We look forward to digging into each of these questions as your resource center.
