Doctor I LOVE My Chemo!

I sat next to a big fish tank in the waiting room to read magazines and look at my list of questions for the doctor.

I was a patient with (Stage III) Colorectal Cancer, My new chemo drug had just completed clinical trials. I was the first patient to start this new drug in my oncologist practice. It was easy to manage the side effects. I took my daily dose by mouth at home.

The older treatment would require me to have a PIC line in my arm and a portable pump to give me 5-FU for six weeks. I was SO GLAD to skip this old treatment.

On a weekly basis I had to come into the oncologist office for what I called my booster chemo drug. I entered the doctor’s waiting room and signed the clipboard next to the frosted sliding glass door hiding the receptionist.

I miss being greeted by a human being. Those days seem to be gone. I miss a human face behind the frosted glass.

Do you remember years ago having a service station attendant pump your gas, clean your windshield, check the engine oil and check your tires for proper air pressure? Gasoline was less than a dollar and you sat in your car and you got friendly service. Today you have to be handicapped to force the station to fill your gas tank. We have lost “service” at the “service station”. Maybe you pay for gasoline inside the station to an attendant who is protected by bullet- proof glass.

On this visit I needed to talk to my busy doctor. His practice was expanding. During my six months of chemo treatments his oncology practice had changed from a small office with one nurse to a bigger office with multiple treatment rooms. More patients, more treatment rooms, more nurses and less time for me to see my doctor.

In the waiting room I reviewed my list of questions for the doctor. Questions about my treatment schedule, side effects like memory loss and diarrhea. Questions about my chemo drugs. I wanted to get my questions answered but I needed to grab my doctor’s attention. He was very busy.

During this treatment everything was moving along smoothly for an efficient medical treatment. Clipboard signed. I sat in waiting room next to fish tank for five minutes. The nurse called my name and escorted me to my treatment room. I sat with my questions in my lap.

The nurse started an IV with saline solution. I had fifteen minutes of mental clarity before the chemo slammed my brain into a chemo fog. I looked at my watch. I had fifteen minutes before blastoff. I thought of a NASA space launch. I was in the lounge chair with an IV in one arm and water bottle in the other. 15, 14, and 13…the minutes ticked by as the saline entered my veins. 12, 11, 10…

Lucky for me the nurse had left the door open in the treatment room so she could easily sprint from room to room. 9, 8, 7 and counting. I watched to door like a hawk. My arm was cooling down as the chemo inched up my arm to my brain. I saw the flash of the oncologist’s white coat. Finally my opportunity!

“Doctor I love my CHEMO” I yelled as loud as possible across the room through the crack in the doorway.

I got my Doctor’s attention. He stopped. Bewildered. He peeked his head in the door of my treatment room. My doctor peered through the door at his patient ready for blastoff.

“What? No patient LOVES their chemo drug!” he said with a puzzled look on his face.

“I do, but I need five minutes with you to go over my treatment plan before the chemo fry’s my brain.” I begged for five minutes of his time. My weird comment grabbed his attention.

The doctor entered the treatment room and he closed the door. He sat down next to me. We went over my list of questions and concerns. We mapped out on a calendar the rest of my treatment plan. I felt much better. I took notes and wrote down his answers to my questions. I relaxed my shoulders and closed my file folder. I floated off into chemo space with answers in a folder on my lap.

An exceptional patient gets their questions answered.