My, how family medical practise has changed over the years. There was a time in bright living memory when you never saw your doctor without a stethoscope slung over his neck, when after greeting you and asking how things were he went right into the basic routine of checking eyes, throat, ears, knee-reflex, heartbeat, all the while asking if there were any problems you'd like to discuss with him. Trust was pretty absolute. You knew your doctor and liked him or her. Your trusted family doctor took time discussing issues with you, a familiar face and figure who was deeply immersed in his professionalism but yet was an exemplar of empathy and human interest.

The routine now is vastly different with family physicians, where with rare exceptions, doctors are now in the business of diagnosis and little else. And you'd better hope they were good at that, at least. Next would come referrals to other doctors, specialists in particular fields of medicine. Or to emergency clinics where minor daytime surgery would be done. Gone the time when your old doctor, eventually retired to make way for the brave new world of medicine as practised by a younger cohort, was adept at himself performing little medical miracles. Now, your doctor shakes your hand on entry, exchanges a perfunctory greeting, seats himself in front of a computer and staccato-asks a series of what's troubling you questions...?

So perhaps it shouldn't have been surprising that here in Ontario at least, the medical community at the front lines of family practise pretty well shuttered itself. 'Consultations' took place over the telephone or through the computer. If you really, really needed a face-to-face appointment it could be arranged but wasn't particularly encouraged. And regular email updates would ensue telling you when the office was closed -- to take telephone calls, presumably -- at holiday periods.

And then, an early October notice that the clinic out of which your personal physician practised hadn't yet received its seasonal order of flu vaccine, but expected its arrival around mid-month. A later notice informed you that no inoculations would be taking place at the medical clinic, after all. This, while provincial medical authorities impress on the necessity of receiving the seasonal flu shot, all the more so at a time of COVID-19. Give your neighbourhood pharmacy a call, they'll look after you. So that's just what we did, calling the pharmacy that supplies our medication prescriptions to make an appointment.

No appointment necessary we were informed; they weren't busy right then, so why not drop over? And we did. Filled out the necessary forms, surrendered our OHIP cards briefly, waited a few minutes, were escorted into a tight little screened-off area and there was the knowledgeable pharmacist was ready to give us our vaccine, super-strength for over-65s. In no time at all we were re-united with our puppies worried sick that they suddenly inherited a large house they had no idea what they'd do with, and after consoling them in their grief, settled down to a usual Friday.

I baked coconut-lime cupcakes for a change, and prepared an egg-loaf bread dough to be refrigerated and used later in the week. Put on a chicken soup to cook, and prepared other food items for dinnertime. My husband installed the new truck battery he had bought yesterday, and cleaned up the garage floor with the intention of repairing cracks in the concrete with the concrete repair kit he had also acquired.

It was, in fact, an absolutely beautiful day, the temperature had gone berserk, all the way to 22C, the atmosphere dry and the sun sharing space in a wide blue ocean of fluffy white clouds. So off we went to the ravine, with no jackets required, Jackie and Jillie kindly leading the way, steering us in the correct direction and yipping excitedly. 

A more pleasurable weather day couldn't be imagined; in fact it couldn't even be believed that we would transit from the cold we've so recently become accustomed to in the low single-digits, high wind and copious rain to this calm day of utter, bewildering warmth. One day only on special, said the weatherman; tomorrow's high would be back to 7C. Believe it, don't believe it.

So on such a spectacularly lovely day we also discovered that the serene beauty of the landscape had somehow undergone a stark transformation. Overnight. Sneakily, while we slept. Not only were there relatively few trees left leafed, the foliage which had been so brilliantly coloured on boughs and collected on the forest floor had turned dim, dark, crackly; the richness evaporated. No matter how often we go through these transition seasonal periods we will never become fully accustomed to their brief and beautiful presence, will always feel the acute sense of loss when they pass....