When the mail came and I found an envelope from my
oncologist’s office, I felt fear rising in my chest. A knot developed in my
throat as I slid my finger underneath the pre-moistened flap of the long, white envelope.
Sliding my finger along the flap, I held my breath until the letter was finally opened. As I withdrew
the enclosed letter, I braced. I had no idea why I was receiving any form of
written communication from my doctor. I hadn’t had any recent blood work or
other tests. I began to read the letter and was instantly put at ease. It was
just a standard letter. My upcoming appointment had been canceled. I needed to
call the office and reschedule. I wondered why. I’d made the appointment
several months earlier with the scheduling clerk. She’d offered me that
specific date and time.
At first, I wanted to give my doctor the benefit of the
doubt. Maybe he’d had a surgery scheduled that he’d forgotten, or perhaps he’d
been called out of town on a conference. Maybe his wife wanted to go on a
family vacation. Then, I remembered this was not the first time I’d received a
rescheduling letter in the mail. This was actually the third time in several
months. I wondered why they didn’t just try to call me, like most of my
physicians did when they needed to change my appointment time or date. The more
I thought about the letter in my hand, the more I realized things hadn’t been
quite right with my doctor for some time.
I noticed it almost immediately after I was diagnosed. When
I refused chemotherapy, my doctor seemed to become closed toward me. Although I
explained I wanted to conquer my cancer as naturally as possible and avoid
conventional treatment as much as I could; he seemed disinterested in me. Each
visit after my initial diagnosis seemed extremely uncomfortable. The doctor
barely spoke to me and only spent a few minutes of time with me. I chalked it
up to a busy practice with many patients scheduled each day. So when I saw him,
I tried to get straight to the point and not take up his valuable time. One of
my friends suggested that perhaps he wasn’t pleased with me because I had
decided not to take the anti-hormone therapy. She even said some doctors take
kickbacks from pharmaceutical companies though they’re not supposed to do that.
I didn’t want to believe he’d stoop that low, but I just didn’t know.
When I discovered a small, grape sized lump in my side, I made
a mental note to bring it to my doctor’s attention. On my next visit, I asked
him to feel it and let me know if I should be concerned. He lightly rubbed his
hand across my abdomen and said he didn’t feel anything. The lump was palpable
even to my untrained fingers. There were several incidents afterward that
caused me to wonder if perhaps my doctor was losing interest in me. He’d slip
out of the room to have a personal conversation on his cell phone. He’d pay
more attention to his watch as I talked than he’d give to me. I didn’t
understand why the sudden shift in interest. When I first began to see him, he
seemed so kind and caring. I wondered if it was because I’d voiced concerns
over my regimen of care. I hadn’t ever dismissed his suggestions and always
deferred to his medical expertise, but I did explain my desire to avoid any
unnecessary side effects along the way. That was why I’d refused chemotherapy
and had stopped taking the Aromasin, Arimidex, and Tamoxifen after several
months. I wondered if maybe he thought I
didn’t want or need his help but I’d never missed an appointment or scheduled
test. I’d always respected and listened carefully to him.
I talked the situation over with my husband and explained
how I’d noticed a decline in my relationship with the doctor over the past
three years. He suggested I look for another oncologist and advised that I
needed a doctor who was genuinely interested in my health care. If I felt
uncomfortable with my current doctor and didn’t feel the freedom to discuss
things with him, it was time to move on. I’d never given this option a thought.
I assumed when you began treatment with an oncologist you were with them for
the duration. After all, this wasn’t a minor health care issue. This was a
lifelong illness. So I promised I’d consider it and I began looking.
The first concern I had in seeking a new oncologist was
wondering if he’d accept a patient not currently in active treatment. Would an
oncologist take on someone like me who seemed to be in remission and might just
need to come in for periodic “tune-up” scans? The first thing I needed to do
was make a list of potential doctors. Next, I’d have to check with my insurance
company and make sure the doctor I was considering was “in network” under my
plan. If he was not, I’d have to keep checking until I found one who was on my
plan. After finding a new oncologist, I’d need to check credentials. I
preferred a board certified oncologist. It was important to me to find a doctor
who’d been practicing for a number of years, one with a good reputation, and
one with a good education. The most
important requirement for me was to find an approachable doctor with a good
bedside manner. I wanted a doctor who would not only listen to what I had to
say but hear what I wasn’t saying. Was it too much to ask that I could feel
comfortable enough around him to consider him a friend? This was going to be a
long term relationship. I also needed him to talk to me in a way that I could
understand. I didn’t want to be afraid to ask him questions. The more I thought
about all the things I needed and wanted in a new oncologist, the more I
realized I didn’t have any of those things with my current doctor.
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