Overexpressed

Yesterday in a conversation with a friend, I told her that my longtime oncologist is retiring in September. Her immediate reaction was, “Oh that’s worse than your hairdresser retiring.” I paused–thought about my fifteen year relationship with Mary at Apsara Cutting Edge and how she has helped me to look amazing, even through cancer–and said, “Actually, not really.” 

Obviously, my hair is much more important than my health! But in all reality, my oncologist’s retirement (since I have known about his plans for a while, I have experienced all of the stages of grief) is great for him and me, too!

At one point, I joked with him, “Look at me! I will outlive your career!” I thought that was hilarious until I realized that two of my friends–also his patients–died of breast cancer at 54 and 49. Suddenly it was not so funny. And I realized how deeply grateful I am to be able to say goodbye to him, rather than the other way around. 

On a particularly grumpy day, when I had to make a hard treatment decision and what that might mean for me, I lashed out. “Why does it matter? You won’t be here,” I angrily shouted into the phone. I couldn’t see him or his reaction. 

I can imagine that he has often been the brunt of anger, sadness, and frustration and that being good at helping others to manage these feelings is an integral part of his job. I knew it was my fear talking, so I apologized. He got it; we moved on, and he answered all of my questions! 

At some appointments, when we were not talking about cancer, we talked about Neil Young, Colson Whitehead’s books, and our kids, though his are older and have kids of their own. He knows my husband and sister. And I know he loves baseball. If you were to ask any of the nurses, doctors, or his other patients, they would say he’s funny and kind; smart and sometimes a little sardonic; makes everyone feel seen and heard; and above all cares about his patients’ individual and unique breast cancer diagnosis. I am honored to have been in his care, and I am certain retirement will suit him! 

So now, I am looking ahead. I am excited to develop a relationship with a new, young oncologist, who has a whole different way of understanding cancer and cancer care. And after twelve years in cancer care, I have learned what I need. So when October comes and my former oncologist is sitting on a beach somewhere (unlikely!), I have a clear list of what I need ready for my new oncologist:

As your patient, please…

• Make me feel seen and heard
• Be up on latest research; engage in new research
• Let me ask many questions
• Know that me and my cancer are same/different than others
• Invite me to help guide treatment decisions, when appropriate
• Let me blame and celebrate you
• Check your ego at the door
• Create a welcoming & opening environment for everyone, not just me
• Discuss clinical trials, when appropriate
• Do not ever discuss timelines for survival
• Be mindful that I believe oncology is an art and science, so be artful
• Help to advocate for me and others
• Look me in the eye and look away when needed
• Have a sense of humor
• Read literary fiction (PS I am reading Yellowface, and I am looking forward to reading Whitehead’s Crook Manifesto.)

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Stay tuned for a OVERexpressed & OUT, a new podcast hosted by me and Roseanne Liberti!