The Good Doctor

I grew up with a physical therapist for a dad.  It was so fun to have people stop me to tell me what a miracle worker he was.  (Still happens!) Comments like, "I wouldn't be walking if it weren't for your dad," were commonplace.  Gifts were also regular; birthdays usually included a crochet sweater or cherry chocolates for the family from a particularly thankful patient. I especially remember friends and neighbors coming over late at night while we were going to bed, requesting some help from my Dad.

And I always felt proud that my dad helped people.  Even though it sometimes boggled my mind that my sweet, goofy, loving papa could do those things people claimed ... it was fun to be the daughter of a healer.

But do you know what's even more fun?

Being the wife of a healer.

Mark has been in practice for about a year and a half down here, and already I'm hearing stories of Dr. Gunn's magic hands.  He's got people driving over an hour to come to his office, even though there's a chiropractor on every corner. (I'm telling you, Southern California has a thing for chiropractors and liquor stores.  They are everywhere.)

He often has people say, "Wow, I've never had anyone adjust me like that before!"  Or, "He was the first person who really looked at my problem and was able to piece together the specific cause ... and treat it!"  He even has a woman who drives an hour to him because she used to live in St. George and was originally treated by Mark's dad.  "I come here and feel like I've got Dr. Spencer Gunn working on me again ... it's wonderful."

I know this because I've been able to go work for the good doctor a few times.  He only uses me when it's absolutely crazy and he has no other options, so it's usually an exhausting shift ... but I love to do a little muscle work on the patients and hear them gush about Dr. Gunn and his magic hands.  (And also remember what it's like to work all day ... indeed I came home exhausted and that feeling rekindled my compassion for my working man.)

Ooo yes.  That x-ray interpreter is mine.

These patients also give gifts.  Cookies and cakes come home nearly every Saturday, but we've also gotten pajama sets from a sweet old hispanic lady in L.A.  My pajamas ... were ... well, more risque in nature.  Mark was three shades of purple when she gave them to him.  We've also been given cards, Angels gear, produce fresh off the vine (my favorites were the avocados ... heavenly) and even a diamond-studded ring.

And really, I see why they do it.  Mark is a solid, steady problem solver who immediately brings respect and trust from the people he associates with.  He is one of the most aware, caring people I've ever met and he chose a profession perfect for him.  Even the business part seems to be coming easier for him; presentations, events, and business owner groups are a part of daily life.

Nice work, honey.

It has been so fun to watch you grow ... seem like it wasn't long ago that you were yanking on my foot a good 18 times or so, trying to get it to release.

Look at you now!

I knew I married a winner.