An oncologist, radiologist, and surgeon all walk into a bar. Each was feeling frustrated because each felt he was more responsible than the other in successfully eradicating a patient’s cancer. In the midst of their heated discussion, a nearby bar stool swiveled to reveal the very patient they were debating (it was a juice bar). “You all have been a vital part in my healing, but I AM the most important factor in healing my cancer.” Each doctor was struck speechless, whereupon the patient treated each to a nutrient and antioxidant rich green smoothie.
I’m feeling fired up today about many, many things related to health care.
Do you realize how empowered you are? YOU are the common factor that ties your specialists together. Good communication is key. Sure, they discuss your care without you, but you get to integrate that information together. It needs to make sense to you. It affects you the most. YOU are the one who has sought out complementary treatments and again the person fitting all these pieces of your health puzzle together. YOU have done the research and made informed decisions. They all work for you and your interests. YOU are the CEO of your team. That’s powerful.
A lot is being done TO you. You may feel out of control. You have rights. Knowing your rights is empowering.
- Having complete and accurate information from your doctor about your diagnosis, treatment, and prognosis tops the list.
- As a patient, you are entitled to privacy regarding your medical care and records.
- You have the right to quality care and treatment consistent with available resources and standards of treatment.
- You have a right to refuse treatment and be informed about the consequences of that decision.
- You have the right to care and treatment in a safe environment.
- Another big right is that you have the right to considerate and respectful care.
I want to add two additional patient rights.
One: The right to demand more research and more effective treatments for advance stage cancer.
It seems to be an idea I keep repeating over and over. Tell your oncologist, radiologist, and surgeon. Make phone calls and write letters to administrators of treatment centers and hospitals. Find a researcher who would love to give you a tour of their lab and share what is being worked on.
I think this is a great way to create a direct line to the front line.
It also provides a face to the work the researchers do, even though I think many researchers went into their chosen profession because of loved ones who’ve been lost to illness. Every new face can continue to motivate researchers.
Touring a research lab certainly will better my understanding of work being done. It’s on my list of things to do. Spread the word to non-medical people (family, friends, coworkers, followers, etc.) so they can spread the word on the urgent need for more research for advance cancer. When more people speak up and demand more, and keep demanding more, there is a better chance that people will get more. I ask for more all the time.
Two: The right to have more equality and power with pharmaceutical and drug companies.
I feel this is an uphill battle but one worth having because those needing drugs are humans with feelings and deserve whatever can help them feel better. This one relates a lot to the aforementioned right to CONSIDERATE and RESPECTFUL CARE. It is neither when you are treated like you don’t matter or are insignificant. THEY are there for ME, not the other way around. Too often the latter is the norm. I could easily throw insurance companies to the mix.
I am tired of feeling exhausted with efforts to make a positive difference, but I will keep working to do so for myself and for others. I am so sick of arguing and jumping through hoops for what I deserve in order to be well. I have mentioned this point in earlier posts: I’m well enough to argue for myself and hoop jump, but what about the patients who are physically too tired or weak to do so? Those who are sick are vulnerable just like any other powerless or marginalized segment of society. Take your pick – there are plenty of “others” in society. They are discounted. Laws and policies do not work in their favor.
Here’s more depressing news – the cancer the specialists argued about eradicating in the beginning of the post may not have been eradicated. It should be part of the complete and accurate information you get from a doctor about a cancer diagnosis and prognosis. 30% of cases recur or may metastasize. Unfortunately, it could still be lurking, biding its time. A new cancer can also grow. You, being extremely empowered, need to know this is a possibility. You, being extremely empowered, need to stay vigilant in understanding your risks and the red flags that may suggest secondary cancer. I apologize in advance if the following freaks people out. It freaks me out, too, but I feel it needs to be shared. Jo Taylor is the founder of After Breast Cancer Diagnosis and a patient advocate living with secondary breast cancer. She can be found on Twitter @abcdiagnosis and her website is abcdiagnosis.co.uk. The graphic below (used with permission) illustrates warning signs that should be on everyone’s radar.
Years ago, I felt a little tired but just chalked it up to the demands of my job. A lot was going on personally for me as well. These things could very well have been why I felt tired. Many people are fatigued who do not have cancer. Cancer was the farthest thought from my mind. I have no idea of knowing for sure.
Although the above symptoms pointing to a reality (or possible reality) for some is depressing or upsetting, knowledge is power.
Let’s talk about the term healing. Semantics can be tricky. Healed cancer, treatable cancer, cured cancer. Can you be healed without being cured? I think the answer is yes. Healed is more of an element of mind and spirit. Healed and cured are probably the most synonymous. You can be healed and still have treatable cancer. You can be healed and have curable cancer. You can be cured, but not healed. And you can not be healed while having treatable cancer. I still hold fast to the idea that you are the most important factor in your healing as you have to decide what you are going to allow and how it works for you.
It’s time to get back to the doctors who walk into the bar. They may continue to argue. They may nod politely at your declaration. Perhaps they believe you. When you assert that you are the most important factor in your healing, you raise the bar of expectation in doctor-patient relationships. You change how you are perceived. You may even change the treatments offered to you. Maybe you find something that is a possibility for you that your doctor hadn’t considered. You are important. You matter. Your voice matters. The bar is important.
A patient, researcher, and leader all walk into a bar. Here’s the punch line: They are all the same person . . . you. Being an active member on your cancer care team ensures that no aspect of your care is taken for granted. Your team is accountable to you, as it should be. And here’s even more good news: The oncologist, radiologist, and surgeon have been waiting for you. They wave and welcome you to your seat at the table.
- How do you feel you are a part of your team for your health?
- Are there any other rights you’d like to add to your personal list of patient rights?
Doctors’ roles are essential in healing.
They should not be minimized or discounted. Cancer research will someday find a cure for what has affected us personally and our families. I am in awe for the dedication and care I have received. Traditional western medicine is only one route to choose. I know many who have stuck to this road with little question if something additional should also be done. Maybe they didn’t need or desire anything different. Maybe they didn’t know they could ask for anything else. Cancer was a six-month detour that blurred more with every passing year. It became part of their past.
However, if you only drive down Main Street, you only experience one part of a town. Side roads and rural areas are well worth the ride. They offer something different. You don’t have to travel only one or the other. My opinion is both are necessary to live well and/or be cancer free. You are the patient and in control over decisions that affect you. My healing plan consists of many side roads and rural areas that have made a positive difference for me. I am the common factor and pull it all together.
It has been so much more than a six-month detour for me. Parts still have blurred. I have traveled on many roads to get where I am today.
It seems strange that I haven’t blogged much about chemotherapy or my oncology appointments. Chemotherapy has been a focal point for far too long. It sucks energy and manifests more physical symptoms than I care to list. It sustains life while it kills cells. Chemo is reassuring and comforting in its own way. It ranks high as a huge part of my healing plan. I have hit my 100th treatment. That’s pretty significant. It isn’t a celebration, but I am checking off the box and moving on. I am still here.
There are so many other aspects in addition to active treatment that I think are also important to an integrated approach to a cancer healing plan.
A strong doctor-patient relationship is vital for my living as healthy as possible.
The relationship I have with my oncologist is a really good one. He deserves credit for sticking with me, listening to me, and working for what I want. He knows how I feel. Yes, I’d love to be someone who visits her oncologist once a year, and eventually less than that, but it’s not the kind of survivor I am. I’m getting active treatment. I go to my doctor a lot. Sometimes it means I may be a pain in the butt. I do get all my questions answered. I even come up with some good ideas from time to time. The good news is my oncologist doesn’t have a chance to forget about me. If I don’t speak up for me, who will? I am my own best advocate.
Oncologists differ from one another. They’re human just like the rest of us. I met with a couple oncologists at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, shortly after my initial diagnosis. Overall, they agreed with the treatment plan suggested at Carbone Cancer Center in Madison. Mayo was more open to surgery options. I liked them quite a bit but it was just too far a trek for regular care. I had top-notch care a few mere miles from home.
A couple of years ago I sought out another second opinion within my provider network and it wasn’t very helpful. It wasn’t hurtful either, just not worthwhile. This oncologist let me know what his opinion was on my options. I let him know what I thought of his limited research. He was not open to complementary cancer supports. I was not a good fit with this oncologist. In my opinion, he defines healing with a very limited scope. Every once in a while I see a clip of him on the local news. He has a great reputation, but I am so glad I have the oncologist I do, who also has an excellent reputation. My position is that healing includes many different aspects that work together.
I’m going to repeat that: Healing includes many different aspects that work together.
No one heals in a sterile petri dish or test tube.
My health journal helps keep all my medical information together.
A health journal has been incredibly useful for my oncology visits. It really helps with dates and specifics as to how I’m feeling, my questions, how and when medications were tweaked. I am a planner. I make the most of the short time I have with my doctor. Sometimes it isn’t so short, but again, that’s the kind of survivor I am, and I’m going to take the time I need. My health depends on it. I believe one reason I’m still doing well is because I’m able to keep really detailed notes to report to my doctor and have one place to keep all my information.
I’m also more of an anxious person than I used to be. Cancer and anxiety go together. Keeping a health journal eases some of my anxiety because it gives me power. An added benefit is the built-in memory that naturally exists with documentation.
Ask questions. A short office visit doesn’t suffice for what I need to feel as a satisfactory visit, even with my health journal in tow. It wouldn’t hurt if office visits were about ten minutes longer than they are now. The oncology nurses are good resources in getting word to your doctor, as is electronically messaging your doctor through MyChart or any similar online technology. I am important enough, and so are you, to have your questions and concerns answered and acknowledged in a way that you understand. It is okay to disagree. I do believe everyone is there to advocate for your best care, but that doesn’t mean you blindly agree to something you don’t understand or have reservations about. There may be something even better for you.
I do believe the answer, a cure, lies in research and things like immunotherapies, targeted treatments, genomics, personalized medicine, and medical advances that haven’t happened yet.
This is why research for advanced stage cancers is so important. More research dollars need to be allocated to advanced stage research! Click here for some suggestions. There needs to be a lot more access to better treatments and drugs that are more effective for those of us living with secondary cancer. We deserve access to advances in immunotherapies, targeted treatments, personalized medicines, and new therapies. It isn’t an option to run out of options. Keep telling your oncologist this over and over again. They meet with the other oncologists in their network to discuss cases. If they keep hearing these demands from patients, it’s more likely medicine will go in this direction.
Keep speaking up.
Patients can help steer these discussions by continuing to advocate for what they need in their office visit.
Healing and a cure are not interchangeable. A cured person may not be healed. Trauma, fear, and other physical or emotional issues can still interfere with living fully. Healing and a cure will inevitably overlap as healers, doctors, and patients work together. Stranger things have happened. Healing and a cure absolutely can overlap. I keep striving for both.
I am ever hopeful I will find a way. Always.
There is a saying that goes along the lines that a window opens when a door closes. It fits if you’re Maria in The Sound of Music and venturing out of the convent on a new adventure. Otherwise, not so much. I don’t care for it and find it’s misguided. I get the point being made, but the visual doesn’t work for me.
Have you ever tried to walk out a window? I did when I was about ten years old. I held a practice evacuation drill out our dining room window in case other routes were blocked in the event of a fire. It must have been Fire Prevention Week, and well, it was me, talking about my day and being all teacher-like. It was straight forward enough, but climbing out the window is how it happens, not walking. Climbing is more involved than walking. A door closing and a window opening are not equivalent at all.
What about when a window closes? Is opening a gate appropriate? Would you come and go from a skylight? Should you dig a tunnel? No! None of these are equivalent either. They are insane comparisons.
But a door! It closed! What is one to do?
Make a new door . . . a better door.
I love everything about this door. The ivy growth, fresh green planks, and carved heart are all perfect. This will be the door I take when I need to imagine a new door for myself. Maybe one day I will find it.
I don’t have an issue with new endeavors, but it is just wrong to say that walking through windows is the same as walking through doors. Try an experiment and come and go from your home for a week through a window and see if it’s really the best route. Chances are you’ll get better at climbing in and out of a window, but you might also attract the attention of local officers asking to see your identification.
The better path is to use your strengths and personal power tools to create a new door. Maybe you’ll make several doors and mark them A, B, and C, behind which are potential new opportunities.
My trouble is I sometimes don’t know what the new doors are really about until after I’ve walked through them and figure a few things out. For example, when I took a second year medical leave, the purpose was two-fold. My school district really was trying to make life less stressful for me. Leaving a slim chance of returning to business as usual also didn’t close the teaching door entirely. Strangely enough, when the teaching door closed, it instantly transformed into a retirement door and there I was already, moving step-by-step, and making progress. It was the door I needed in disguise.
I have worked hard to make new doors for myself. I’m still working on the courage to walk through a couple of them. It’s a work in progress and sometimes a little scary. Courage is a good companion to have at my side.
Reiki is one of the new doors. Newish. I’ve dragged my feet. The door is there all shiny and ready. I’ve used the door but haven’t invited many to join me. It could be just for me. I don’t know yet. The opportunity is there to give and to positively affect others. Don’t get me wrong – I’m still team medicine all the way – there are just many pieces to wellness that can attribute to overall health. My basement transformed itself fairly effortlessly to a Reiki studio through envisioning a new possibility and help from Amazon. I used to think that I needed a strong calling to become a Reiki Master, but now my thoughts are different. If I can have even more energy available for self-healing, I will take it. Refusing a healing opportunity makes no sense. If I can share that with others so that they feel happier and healthier, I am working on that, too.
Blogging is another new door. It isn’t what I set out to do. It was more of an avenue that I thought would take me someplace else, which is still possible. I’m not blogging because it brings me great recognition or monetary gain. It doesn’t.
It does give me a platform for sharing thoughts and ideas that come from my heart. I’m in it for my heart – that’s why I write.
Realizing this is causing me to reassess my motivation to be represented by an agent. Is that a door I need or am I potentially even happier with my blogging door? Sure, I’d love a little more recognition and visibility. I am excited to see what doors may open and what doors I continue to create for myself through writing.
Staying active is also a new door. It’s never too late to make healthy changes. Having more physical skills would help, but I have more than I used to have. A lot of motivation is needed to keep me focused on fitness. I liken this process to one new door after the other. Every time I experience some modicum of success and feel pretty impressed with myself, I see another door waiting for me. For example, I have very tiny biceps that I can now flex. I am fascinated with them. I can’t do much else with them so I need to keep working. I’m not sure what I see as my next step, but I will figure it out along the way.
There have been hard doors.
Doors of grief and loss.
Doors of changing definitions of normal.
Doors of hard truths.
Doors through which only I can walk.
The door marked cancer has been a doozy. I didn’t make this door or ask for this door. It’s stained with pain, sickness, always something unknown. No narratives, fact sheets, observations, or best guesses even come close to what walking through this door is like. I kind of thought I knew from what I saw my mom go through, but I so did not know. The experience is individualized. No one truly understands, just like I can’t understand another’s experience. Some come close. Empathy and compassion are wonderful supports.
Yet, the hardest times can often lead to the greatest moments in your life. Hard times make and show a person’s character. Who are you when everything really sucks? Sure, I get grumpy and down. Sometimes I cry. But I also try really hard to hold to my core beliefs. My challenges have made me mentally and physically stronger. Supposedly, I have more courage. I’m not sure that’s true. Having cancer doesn’t mark me as an automatic recipient for a badge of courage. Hardly. It doesn’t make me inspirational either. It does make me go through things that many others do not. That’s what I have to offer. Maybe something else emerges from within, but I‘m not so different from anyone else.
Not all doors need to be hard.
Doors of rebirth and renewal.
Doors of love and light.
Doors of hope. I love those doors.
Doors again through which only I can walk.
Trust is huge to walk someplace new.
If one door closes, make all the new doors you need and trust they will be better doors.