.. if I weren’t
such a chickenshit so unwilling to distract them from the very important work of saving lives.
First of all, if you are part of a “team” caring for a patient, then please pass on all pertinent information regarding that patient’s care to the rest of the team so that she doesn’t have to repeat herself ad nauseum. In my case, as far as I know, my labs and test results were shared, but other things that certainly impacted my emotional well being, if not physical, were not. Or they were and having me repeat them was some kind of test of my mental/emotional status. The latter is being generous and I’m guessing it’s more the former.
Please read my chart occasionally. Just before a visit would be awesome if you can fit it into your busy schedule. If YOU sent me for testing you should be looking for those results. If I have to ask if you’ve received them and you have to go rifling through the chart to see if you have, it makes me feel a) the test wasn’t all that important to my case, so why the hell did you send me for it (at the tune of $4,000.00 I might add)? or b) you’re just not all that interested. I realize I am not your only patient. I am not your sickest patient. I have the “run of the mill” breast cancer that elicits a big ho hum in the world of cancer treatment, but for the 15 minutes I am in front of you I should damn well be your only patient. And you should be as prepared for my visit as you expect me to be.
If you are leaving your practice, a mention to your patients would be really good form. When I got my diagnosis I was assigned to a team of 3 doctors. Two of the three of you had been here for only one year. Having lived in this area my entire life and worked in the medical field (first in the hospital where I receive treatment and then as a medical transcriptionist) I am familiar with most of the doctors, at least by name and specialty. It would have been comforting to be sent to a surgeon with a long standing practice, however I was very happy with you and you did a great job. No complaints. Except. You’ve apparently left the area. This is after telling me that if I had any problems in the future I could forego the referral route and just make an appointment. You told me my followup would likely be with Medical Oncology and there was no need to see you on a regular basis but I could (and probably should) check in yearly to remain active in the practice. I only found out you had left when my Radiation Oncologist mentioned it. In hindsight, when I had my port out you said “No need to come and show me the scar. You never have to see me again”. Okay then. While I make it a policy not to get emotionally attached to someone who tells me I have cancer, a quick note from your office manager would have been nice. If I do have further need for a breast surgeon I would hope I wouldn’t just be passed off to whoever happens to replace you. No offense to the newbies, but in the future I want a surgeon who has been here longer than five minutes and plans to stick around. Same goes for my oncologists.
And oh, the breast care navigators. You nurses are wonderful. You are available anytime we need to talk. You come and hold our hands through difficult tests and procedures. You run support groups. I’m not someone who would normally avail myself of a service like this. It’s not that I am unappreciative. In fact, having my hand held during my second biopsy and sentinel node mapping, not to mention getting a phone call immediately after hanging up with the doctor (who delivered my diagnosis over the phone, btw, and only afterwards thought to ask if I were alone) to make sure I was okay was more helpful than I can express. However, sitting me down less than 24 hours after I received the news I had breast cancer and going over such things as drainage bulbs, tattooed nipples, and the importance of knowing how to draw on eyebrows, complete with a demonstration of how alien like I would look without eyebrows by holding your two fingers over your own, was not only unnecessary (in my opinion), but unwelcome. I may have been looking at you intently and nodding appropriately, but in my head I was screaming “what the FUCK!”. I can’t speak for other women, but at that point in time I only wanted to know if I was going to live. Without knowing whether or not I would need a mastectomy (I didn’t) or chemotherapy (I did), much of that information was not pertinent to my case at all. Once my course of treatment was decided would have been the more appropriate time to discuss the things that applied to me. I should mention the nurse who held my hand and spoke with me over the phone was not the same who sat down with me. I have no idea if it would have been different speaking with her. Two completely different personalities.
I don’t want to make it seem like I am ungrateful for my care. I’m not. I feel like I got the best care available to me. My questions were answered and I tried to answer yours as truthfully as I could to aid in your care of me. However, I’m not someone who wears their heart on their sleeve or complains about physical discomfort. Outside of members of my immediate family, if anyone asks how I’m doing 9 times out of 10 I will say “fine!” no matter what is going on with me. I don’t complain about things that I consider minor or things that you, my doctors, have told me to expect and how to deal with. So, when I fill out those questionnaires at the start of each appointment and mention something like daily nosebleeds for 6 months straight, brain fog, exhaustion, etc..if you brush it off, I won’t mention it again. That doesn’t mean my course was “easy”. I know compared to many people it was easIER, but trust me, it wasn’t easy. Not by a long shot.