Thursday, July 16, 2009

The world we live in.

The last few days have been interesting. Two days in a row I had appointments with two oncologists. I had concerns on regards of the effect Tamoxifen (the hormone therapy drug designed to decrease my chances of having the cancer comeback) would have in other parts of my body. The first doctor was a well known gyno/oncologist doctor in town, who, by some accounts, is the best in town. I don't even know how to describe the interview with him. It was the end of the day, he probably was tired, but he had a completed disregard for my concerns and my emotions or worries. His approach was simple and pragmatic. Do you want to be dead or alive? What if you have hot flashes, vaginal dryness, urinary track infections - and at worst, fibroids in the uterus bigger than a 4-month fetus or uterine cancer? Put up with it! (his words). Our goal is to prevent the cancer to come back, so, what if you have to deal with this? • I knew going in that my choices were almost non existent, but I certainly didn't think he could be so dismissive. At one point, when he said the side effects of the drug weren't that bad, I said: "not according to some women I've talked to!" to which he replied that maybe he was being a little insensitive because he wasn't a woman! Just a little? I thought. • The other oncologist didn't have better alternatives for me, but he was at least kind and empathetic. He was willing to look into whatever options I was bringing to the table and to not dismiss my worries as plain stupidity (How could I be worried about hot flashes and vaginal dryness when I could be cured from cancer?!) • But what is really troublesome is not just that I went through this, because my case is possibly one of the best-case scenarios withing the worst (getting cancer), but that other women who have to experience more suffering in order to be cured are dealing with insensitive doctors like this one. Does it really have to be this way? Can't they really understand that you are full of worries, fears, anxiety, and that you're just trying to cope in the best way you can? • And so you realize that this is a journey in which you walk alone on the road, sometimes accompanied, sometimes not. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it's hot, sometimes is pleasant — very much like Forrest Gump when he jogged across the country! Some people stay with you alongside all the time, while some others dropout and go do something else. But you keep on running, because that is all you can do.

3 comments:

  1. It seems that doctors (they should be correctly called medics), are the same all over the damn world.

    I truly, don't believe it has to be like that. Not even in a public (or badly called "free") clinic.

    Some how, they really believe that know everything, and that they are above the "common humans"...

    Save lives (and preserving them with dignity) should be an obligation, not a "profession", at least in terms of the conception of the idea of being a medic.

    But as long as we keep making medics "because is a good bu$$ines" or "because my dad was one" or "because my dad want me to be one" we are... fucked.

    But here is one thing, you can always stand up, turn around and walk away from a medic that is as stupid as that. You don't have to take it.

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  2. By the way, it may not be "the world we live in" but the world we make (or allow others to make for us)

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  3. Who is he? Let me at 'em. I'll tear 'em limb from limb....
    Seriously, that's awful. If hope you'll tell him off in letter form if you haven't already to his face. You should refer him to the book Patient Encounters: the Experience of Disease or, another one, A Taste of My Own Medicine.
    We're with you for the long run, what can we do?

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