Good-Bye To You!

The oncology radiologist at the hospital where I was first diagnosed admonished me for having taken time to research all possibilities of treatment. I'd contacted a few cancer research institutions to inquire about the best form of treatment for my situation.

Her sharp words cut through me, "If you want to continue to shop for opinions, then by all means, go right ahead. But you have cancer and you need to make a decision about treatment soon. You've already let this go long enough. We're recommending radiation on the right side and Tomoxafin for five years to prevent a reoccurrence."

Sitting in on this meeting with me and the O.R. was a radiology nurse. I looked at her after receiving what felt like a scolding, and witnessed compassion in her eyes. I fought back tears as I refused to lose control in front of this less than compassionate, so called qualified specialist. I informed her that given the circumstances I was not about to make a rash decision that could further adversely affect my health. My intention was to educate myself to the nth degree about side effects from her recommended forms of treatment. As I looked directly into her eyes I let her know that this was my body that could possibly become further mutilated than it had already been from the various biopsies with no guarantee of being cured.

This stoutly built woman shifted slightly in her seat as did her demeanor as she tried to explain that her strong statement was out of concern for my well-being. I responded by letting her know that the individual who had the most concern for my well-being was me...because I was the one living with this disease.

On my way out the nurse handed me her contact information and offered to answer any questions I might think of later. Not long after arriving home, I did call her and told her that I couldn't tolerate having that radiologist treat me. She empathized with me and quickly recommended another oncology radiologist that she knew to be a very compassionate and understanding practitioner whom she believed I would be as comfortable with, as many other patients had been. I expressed my appreciation for her caring nature and support, but as it turned out, I never went back.

Is This a Joke?

More than two and a half years after my initial diagnosis, I sat in my physician's office waiting to begin a routine physical.

"Would you like me to perform a PAP smear today?" the doctor asked prior to beginning my physical.

"No thank you," I replied. "My gynecologist will take care of that."

To which Doc replied, "Ok, make sure you do make an appointment because you know that your risk of ovarian cancer is higher since you've had breast cancer."

I'm sure I had an incredulous look on my face, since she stuttered the following words.

"Well...it's just that it's important to be on the safe side."

As if I didn't already know this...

I understood the importance of staying on top of anything related to my health, and that my doctor was only doing her job. Nonetheless, it more than irked me that she felt the need to use a fear inducing statement to persuade me to be responsible about further exams. I don't need to be frightened into doing whatever it is I need to do to remain healthy. I'd already experienced one of the most powerful fears possible...being told that I had cancer...

"Just a few more questions before we begin the physical. Do you see an oncologist?"

"I was told it wasn't necessary since I had a double mastectomy."

"What about a mammogram?"

"There's nothing left...so there's no need for a mammogram."

Shouldn't a physician already know this? My mind was flooded with memories from earlier days after my diagnosis...