First round of chemo is almost over. After the in-clinic IV drip via my new “central line” tunneled catheter, I go home with an infusion bottle that administers the third of the 3 chemo drugs needed to treat colon cancer cells. So far things are fine though I can’t sleep with the pump on. It will come off tomorrow.
As usual, lack of communication played a role in this encounter with the medical system. My cardiologist never sent a “report” or message with her decision on whether my heart could take the chemo. I was able to get a doctor at my home clinic, where the report WAS sent, to read me the decision so even though my oncologist didn’t have it at least I knew we could go ahead and have my heart fixed later.
The trouble with critical diseases is a person becomes highly sensitive to things like not being told treatment details, cancelled appointments and promises of support that don’t work. From here a person assumes DANGER when really it’s just the usual bullshit of a normally operating system run by humans. Sure these people are more likely to kill you, but you are also closer to death–so don’t sweat it.
The truth is, when they do cause your death there’s already a story in place to cover their ass and gosh, they meant well anyway.
So I’m thinking the physically damaged part of me is going to live in the world of bad communication and careless-to-my-emotions reasons why medical people are absolved of blame and I need to back away from their need to be right and focus on my undamaged self. Yes, it’s important that people in charge of your life have human skills but I’m tired of asking for them to actually care, their acting is the best I’ll get and like most, they suck at it.
Funny, I’ve always felt I didn’t belong anywhere and it’s made me invisible. So invisible patient I’ll be. Not talking allowed when you can’t be seen. Learned that from Harry PotterJ