Finding the right fit
By Sheryl
March 24, 2010
I’m lucky to have a wonderful oncologist. Sure, I’d rather not have an oncologist at all, but if I have to have one, he’s the one to have.
He’s warm and compassionate, always greeting me with a warm hug. And I know that can’t be easy, because Dr. H’s office is packed with patients; for as many who, like me, are there for their annual visits, there are those who are in the process of grueling treatments, or still, those who are too ill to walk unaided. But isn’t that one of the huge challenges of his profession — putting on a smile when you are surrounded with chaos and uncertainty? My oncologist told me, once, that he chose oncology over cardiology because all his patients are so very grateful and “nice” and often lose their Type A tendencies. (Cancer has a way of humbling you, after all.)
The way I came to find Dr. H is a bad memory, but I’m sharing it with you since it magnifies the need for good communication with your healthcare provider. Just one day after my mastectomy, an unfamiliar doctor stood in my doorway and introduced himself as my new oncologist. I didn’t even know what an oncologist was. Truly.
“I’m here to discuss your treatment,” he said as he looked past me, out the window. Too stunned to answer him, I only nodded. He handed me a white card with an appointment scribbled in a messy, rushed handwriting. “See in you in two weeks.” And just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.
But not before bumping into my surgeon who was on the way in to my room and saying, “If she thinks she’s finished, she’s wrong,” he said, a bit too loudly, to the surgeon. “The rest is not going to be a walk in the park.” The comment still haunts me.
And certainly my follow-up treatments were anything but easy. In addition to difficult chemo treatments, I felt alienated and couldn’t communicate with this doctor whose job it was to make me well. Making me “well” went way beyond the physical. I wanted explanations, reassurance and guidance but all he could offer were needles, statistics, paperwork and protocol.
I hung in for four months until my treatments ended. Once they did, I disappeared as quickly as a wild animal running from danger. I often wonder if the treatments were even more uncomfortable because of the mood that surrounded him and his office.
This scenario would most likely not happen today. Over the years, doctors have learned the importance of communication and compassion. They’re encouraged to do things like speak slowly, use plain language and when possible, demonstrate their points using models or even by drawing pictures. Much has been written about how good communication with your doctor makes a difference – both in the patient’s satisfaction and outcome.
And it helps. I went on to find Dr. H and in finding him, I found not only a newfound appreciation of the challenges of the profession but I also found a growing security that both my physical and emotional needs would be met. We talk. We laugh. I ask questions and I get answers. And when the visit ends, he looks me in the eye, declares me healthy, hugs me and tells me he’ll see me again next year.
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