Today on Sunrise Rounds, Dr. Salwitz talked about the pain of losing touch with patients in hospice. (Yes, I know you don't like that word. Neither do I.)
What struck me was not his sorrow so much as the concept of the big team the hospice patient is suddenly surrounded by, while deprived of Dr. Salwitz's familiar presence.
I've met plenty of doctors since my move to Texas on a wheelchair flight after spine fusion. As I've mentioned, not long after I became pretty sure the spine would stay fixed, I was diagnosed with DCIS. And more new doctors were added to my life.
I still miss my beloved California doctor who visited me each night near midnight after the fusion. And I miss the GI doctor in CA.
A couple of doctors I met have been friendly, and I am already very comfortable with my surgeon. But I have a long way to go before I have a medical support group around me. Some of us are very hesitant to change doctors during cancer treatment.
All of this is flying around in my head as I look forward next week to meeting the medical oncologist.
My surgeon's appointment today had to be cancelled because of a bad cold that aggravated my inherited sinus problem.
At the first meeting with the medical oncologist, I'll need to know what to do to live with crazy sinuses -- I've read that my standby antihistamine is incompatible with Tamoxifen. And like most of us, I have other questions. The surgeon thinks I will like this oncologist. I need to like him. I need to trust him.
Yes, really, I need to like him.