Goodbye, Dr. Stupid, Hello Dr. Lin
So, after only 8 or 9 months, I finally succeeded in switching oncologists—I am now going to be seeing Dr. Lin, but she’s on vacation so I’m awaiting her return for her to OK this. Dr. Stupid OKed it—good ridance.
Today I have to go see my gyenecologist, Dr. R. He’s so absolutely gorgeous, that it makes it a bit more awkward. He looks like a cross between Gerard Butler, and RIchard Gere.
Dr. R was the guy who called me to tell me the results of the biopsy last year. “You have a little cancer, there.”
A little cancer.
It’s funny how an every day moment for a care provider at work is so idellably life-changing for the patient. Words have more power than we think they do—the things we say casually to patients have impact. Some times, lifelong impact. I will always remember his voice on the phone “a little cancer.”
In fact, the last time I saw him, he did my breast exam, felt the lump and said “I’m not impressed…” and I joked about how a woman never likes to hear that when a guy is touching her breasts…I was worried about that lump—and my way of dealing with shit is to make jokes.
So, today I get to maybe ask him about the tamoxifen, and how I have had two very long menstrual cycles (not really, but pseudo ones caused by the tamoxifen) and only 10 days apart…this isn’t good.
I’m only worried he’s going to call me again and say something bad—the tamoxifen causes endometrial cancer (granted, in a very small percentage of women who take it)
So, here I go, back to this MD and see what’s going on with other parts of my body now.
