Tuesday, October 14, 2008

P.S. Regarding Surgeon Number One

My dear and fair-minded friend C. suggested I write this post-script so that you'll know Dr. H is a caring, considerate person...and not a thoughtless power-drunk monster.

When my mom returned home to Maryland after spending the month with me in California, there was a message waiting for her from Dr. H.

He called because he was concerned about me. He wanted to make sure I was getting the care I needed. I wish I could tell you exactly what he said, but I can't even remember if I actually listened to it, or if Mom just told me about it. He seemed to be feeling bad about our interaction.

Of course, by the time she got home to hear this message, I'd already had the mastectomy and didn't even have cancer anymore. I don't know why he called her instead of me. I'm sure I'd given them two or three local California numbers where I could be promptly reached. Mom probably jotted down her Maryland home phone when I asked her to fill herself in as my emergency contact.

This brings me to reason I think Dr. Rocco might have saved my life, and why I feel like Dr. H might not have saved it...had he been my surgeon.

Speed and Accuracy.

Dr. H had me waiting two weeks for my intitial consult, and then dismissed my diagnosis as "not really cancer." Maybe he would have ordered the same battery of tests Dr. Rocco did, but it's hard to imagine he would have. He didn't seem to take my condition seriously, and he certainly didn't seem to be in a hurry about it.

Dr. R saw me the SAME DAY I called, and insisted on gathering as much information as possible about my tumor, before making treatment decisions. Thanks to her insistence, we learned that I didn't just have one walnut-sized lump of high grade carcinoma, I also had a second, smaller lump of the same advanced degree. The mastectomy she performed 2 weeks later removed not just these tumors, but also the surprise third area of cancer in my nipple.

I can't help but suspect that Dr. H, in comparison, might have removed the first lump, but left me with the other two. I can't help but suspect I would have waited a lot longer than 2 weeks before being treated. I can't help but suspect the cancer that had already spread to three separate areas of my breast wasn't right on the verge of spreading to the rest of my body.

Of course, this is all just my feelings and suspicions. Who knows what really would have happened? I'm just so glad I didn't have to find out.

1 comment:

Carrie said...

:)
Really I just felt like the story was incomplete without a note about the phone message. Clearly he was totally the wrong doctor for you, and you and he clashed--but he wouldn't have such a good reputation if everyone reacted to him the same way you did. His approach works for some people at least. What I learned from your experience is how important it is to make sure that you (anyone) as a patient feel comfortable with your doctor, and that there's no reason to compromise on that. I'm so glad you stood up for yourself! I'm so proud of you for walking out and finding the right person for you! I hope that, if I am ever in a similar situation, I will have the strength and presence of mind to do the same.

In the meantime, I was glad to know (when you told me about the message) that Surgeon #1 was the sort of person who recognized that he wasn't the surgeon for you, but at least made an effort (if not a terribly effective one) to contact you personally and make sure you were going to follow up with someone else. That makes me feel a little better about the whole awful situation.

So thanks for posting this! And thanks for being you and walking out in the first place.