Martha was the first one to accept my #MetsMonday invitation. Thank you, Martha, for sharing about a topic we can all relate to – the patient/doctor relationship. Any such relationship needs to be one of mutual respect and partnership, but the relationship with your oncologist is like none other. Speaking as someone who has had five oncologists, I sure relate to Martha’s words and how she came to re-frame the relationship she has with her oncologist. I have a feeling you will too. Be sure to share your thoughts at the end of Martha’s post.
I Love My Oncologist. But…
by Martha Carlson
Nancy’s Point was one of the first blogs I came across in the early days of my diagnosis, and I continue to appreciate her point-blank attitude about living with cancer. She is honest when she writes, and that honesty can be a struggle when you want to talk openly about difficult topics yet long to protect those you love from pain in your life.
I decided to write about the patient/doctor relationship when you’re stage IV, not realizing in that moment how hard it would be to live up to the standards of honesty I believe Nancy’s Point brings to the cancer conversation. But here goes…
I love my oncologist.
That’s the truth. She’s a capital-T type A personality, who — I’ve seen this firsthand — can intimidate with a glance. And if she adds a sigh? Forget about it. It’s a personality I’m familiar with since my mom and both my sisters share that kind of mental power and focus. My closest friends do as well. These are not women with time to waste. Plus, there’s the little item of her saving my life.
Still, I listen with longing when other women with metastatic cancer talk about their warm and easy-to-relate-to oncologists. They get hugs, reassurances, conversations about their families and vacations. I kinda want those things too. Mostly, I get hushed when she’s examining me.
So why do I stay?
Nearly every stage IV patient I know has switched oncologists at least once. I dread the day when I must move on or my oncologist retires. For me, the relationship is just that, a three-year relationship with ups and downs and experiences I’ve had with only her.
During the first six months, I saw her every week, then every three weeks, and now we’re up to every three months. A lot can happen in three months. As a reasonably informed patient, I don’t really need many things explained to me, but I do need to feel connected with my oncologist. I need to know that she thinks of me as a person and not just an illness she is treating.
Our now infrequent visits, combined with the demands on her time, have resulted in a tenuous connection. She knows a lot about me, but I sometimes wonder if she knows the most important things.
She knows how to keep me alive, but does she know what matters to me in that life? Even as I ask myself that question, I follow-up with, does it matter?
I sometimes think that if my oncologist and I are in a relationship, it’s one that is unhealthy and one-sided. Yet, I don’t want to give her up.
Maybe “relationship” is the wrong word to use when thinking of my doctor and me. When I think of her as my teammate, I can excuse a lot of things that would end a relationship. I want the best players on my team, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a superstar here, so I want to be her best teammate too.
I’m not big on excuses and justifications, but I can get the best experience out of my oncologist appointments by re-framing how I think of my doctor.
If I take on the responsibility of being a good teammate, rather than expecting her to be a dream-doctor and demanding little of myself, then I can change the dynamic in a way that gives me what I need. I already know to get questions and issues to her ahead of appointments, and I have learned to get straight to the point as honestly and completely as I can. In this way, I can maximize my time with her.
Since my kids all played sports where teamwork was important for success, I like the idea of thinking of my doctor in this way. It isn’t exactly a breakthrough for medical care, but it is a breakthrough for me.
Because again, I don’t want to say goodbye to my oncologist.
Friends may tell me that any doctor would have saved my life, but I don’t know if that is true. I don’t know that another doctor would have the mental gears turning in such a way to help give me a good quality of life for three years of metastatic disease or to be open to changing plans as we go along.
Maybe next time, when I have the urge to talk while she feels under my arms, after all, I’ve only got a few minutes of her time, I’ll remember that her part on the team includes paying close attention to changes, and she does her best work when she’s not being distracted.
Now I just have to work on making sure my teammate knows what I need to be the best player I can be.
My list is pretty short:
Look me in the eye when you ask how I’m doing. Electronic health records be damned.
Martha lives in Illinois, has three children, two in college and one a Freshman in high school. She has been living with HER2+ metastatic breast cancer for nearly 3 1/2 years. She writes regularly for Cure magazine’s online site at curetoday.com and believes in the power and necessity of patient advocacy in all its forms.