Every four months
Every four months, I go to see my oncologist. We chat, and I get an exam. The problem is that cancer is not on the outside. It's on the inside. So no physical exam is really going to rule it out. But we do that anyway, because it makes us both feel better. He doesn't order labwork, so I just order it myself. Again, it makes me feel better if it comes back normal, even if that doesn't mean a whole lot.
I really hate going to that office. Don't get me wrong - it's a perfectly nice office with perfectly nice doctors and nurses. It's just that for 362 days a year, I don't have to think about that office and what goes on there. Three times a year I have to go in there. So as I'm driving there, I get nervous. I start to sweat, my stomach hurts, my ulcer hurts, my hands shake, I can't breathe, and I want to cry. Because who knows what's going to happen? He could come in and say something awful. The cancer could be back. Bad things happen in that building. I know, lives get saved in that building, but chemo is given in that building. Awful, horrible news is given in that building. They try to make it nice, but no one really wants to be there.
I sucked it up and went there today. I had to, because four months had gone by.
My oncologist had a stroke in the spring. He was 42. I was very upset for him. I didn't want a new doctor if he didn't come back. I put my life in his hands, and I trust him. He's important to me. Lincoln is small enough that you run into cancer people everywhere. We all kind of know each other. And everyone wants to know who your doctor is. A lot of people have my doctor, and we were all upset. He was too young to have a stroke. He cares so much about us. He didn't deserve a stroke. Not that anyone does, but he really didn't, if you get what I'm saying. So I wanted to hug him and hear all about him when I saw him, but then I didn't want to, because what if he had horrible news for me? What if I was so happy to see him that I forgot that the appointment was to discuss my cancer? And then what if he said oh by the way, it's back? So I shook his hand. Then he sat down and told me about the stroke. And he blamed his nurse Catherine for giving him a stroke. And she agreed that it was her fault, but that he drove her to it. And I suggested litigation. That's when I knew that it would be okay. That's what cancer people do. When you get to the point where you can have a dark humor about your disease, then you're okay. And clearly, he has a dark humor about the stroke.
So at some point he asked me how I was doing. And I said that I thought I was okay, because that's what cancer people do. We never say that we are fine without some kind of qualifier. Because we don't know, absolutely for sure, if we are okay. And we don't want to sound too confident, lest we jinx ourselves.
And then at the end, I went to shake his hand again, and I thought that it was probably too late to hug him at that point. But then he hugged me. And at that point I realized how happy I was to have this doctor back in my life. Then I sat in my car and read my labwork results. And now I'm good for another four months. I hope he is too.