The Oncologist

The medical oncologist was the first doctor we met today.

She was ok. The facility was ok.

I want more for him than "ok." I'll admit it.

There were good points. She asserted that Kevin is young for this disease and in generally good health. She said he would not be vomiting endlessly like you hear about with chemotherapy; those side effects are better managed today. She seems like someone who considers her patients as hers and wouldn't be shunting him off to an ER doctor if something came up on a weekend. She didn't rush us through our questions.

She seems capable.

There are things, though, that worry us. Things that seem as if the fit is not right; maybe this isn't the best place for Kevin.

She read through his diagnosis history and didn't examine him herself. She said something about when it comes to "these and pelvic exams" she avoids them whenever possible. Said she would read what the surgeon has to say after he examines Kevin later. Kevin and I both came away feeling like she was sparing herself more than Kevin.

We asked about Kevin continuing to work through treatment. Kevin explained how much he enjoys his work and how much it contributes to his satisfaction and well being. She said most of her patients do not work during treatment. Suggested that he use this time to "consider a new career objective and develop a spiritual life. "

"...develop a spiritual life." Kevin and I stared at each other. We still haven't figured that one out. Was she fishing to find out if we had an active faith life or was she assuming we could use one?

She talked in detail about how when she vacations she goes completely away, totally out of reach of work. "Vacation" struck us as a lousy analogy for the 8 months of chemotherapy/radiation limbo she advocates. And who's in charge of his treatment if she takes one of those completely away, totally out of reach vacations? We would have liked that question answered and it wasn't.

I think she was cautioning Kevin about the strain of balancing work and treatment. It didn't come across that way, though, and totally discounted what he had already said about his work being important to his emotional well being.

We talked about our commuter life between Ohio and Indiana and how that had to be part of our decision about his treatment. She responded with some talk about other places often not being staffed with experienced doctors. She didn't tell us anything about her own experience though.

We asked to see the chemotherapy area. Another area the movie/TV people have wrong. (Just like the day he was diagnosed and I realized being told "cancer" in real life doesn't look at all like it does on TV.)

Forget those individual rooms you see on TV. Forget even those 3 or 4 person suites/sections you see on TV. It's a small and rather intense area with a lot of people for the amount of space available. IVs beeping, patients in a dozen recliners lined up in a row with family or friends squeezed in on stools beside them or across the traffic area from them. Put your arm out in any direction and you're probably going to touch someone. Bright intense lights. I don't think there were windows. Kevin doesn't remember any either. The chemical smell got to Kevin and he is not usually affected by smells. The very medical, very clinical aspects of it really hammered home the reality of what is happening.

The nurses are pleasant, though, and very busy. Seemed well trained.

The oncologist didn't greet them or stop to talk to any of the patients in the room although some people tried to catch her attention.

I know if she stops to talk, she'll never get back to seeing patients for appointments. Still, it bothers me. Chemotherapy patients are going through a lot. A few minutes can't be squeezed in to acknowledge this?

The treatment is more than we expected. More time. More aggressive. More everything; stretching out to encompass something in the neighborhood of 8 months. It would very likely be April or early May before he is finished.

Radiation is handled by a separate facility and doctor. The medical oncologist oversees the entire thing with a radiation oncologist overseeing the radiation treatment. We haven't scheduled yet with a radiation oncologist.

We didn't expect this to be a great visit. It's not something Kevin wants to do and who can blame him for feeling that way?

I wanted us to feel more confident about the doctor and the facility even if we are full of nothing but anxiety about the treatment.

We've tried tonight to put into words what doesn't feel "right" for us about the oncology side of today. Maybe it's just the shock of what chemotherapy really looks like--the time, the sights, the sounds, the smells. And maybe we'll feel better with a little perspective on this day. Tonight, though, it's just overwhelming for both of us, especially for Kevin.