Once you begin to accept the unthinkable without putting up a fight or even shedding a tear, without showing any resistance, you know that you have been sucked into the institutional world of the sick. Case in point: Before I was diagnosed with cancer but when things started to get suspicious, I was required to have a biopsy on my neck. While I clearly understood that the surgery needed to be done, I was still rather distressed that the scar would be on such a visible part of my body. When I voiced this concern to my surgeon and asked if there were ways to perform the surgery that would better hide the scarring, he became visibly irritated and said that I shouldn't be concerned about this since there were far more serious things I needed to worry about. My response to said surgeon was that I understood the severity of the situation, but if I was going to live, then I preferred not to live with a massive post-surgical scar on my neck.
Needless to say, I changed surgeons, and the second one - Dr. Black at the Jewish General in Montreal - was far more sympathetic. He explained that he would try to perform the cut on a crease in my neck, which would allow the scar to blend in with the crease and minimize the scar's visibility.
The point here is that the first surgeon was probably accustomed to seeing patients who had already taken on the role of "sick" person. These are the people who have been broken down by the hospital system, by tests and procedures and inconveniences and pain. They are a lot easier to deal with.
Another case in point: Just before starting chemo back in June, 2007, I was told that I would need a picc line, which is a tube for administering chemo that hangs out of your arm for the duration of treatment. I was not happy about this. In fact, I was rather miffed, and I cried long and hard.
But now, just a few months later, I have grown to accept these types of things and see them merely as medical inconveniences rather than as the assaults that they are on my freedom, mobility and sense of dignity. Patients even begin to expect these frequent assaults - it starts with the little things, like walking around in gowns that reveal our butt cracks. But it ends up with spending the night in a bed in the hall because there are no hospital rooms left, or sitting in a public waiting room with a huge contraption affixed to the head and featuring metal posts jutting out of the forehead. (I have seen this guy with the head device every day when I have gone in for radiation - it was Day 3 for me today, by the way. I guess we have back-to-back time slots.) Perhaps patients are too weak to have their voice heard. Or perhaps they have just stopped caring. They have been so worn down, so beaten up by all the public humiliation, the pain, the exposure, that they have become numb.
I try to care. I still pull myself together in my carefully coordinated outfits, my loose tunics, belts, tights and booties, my necklaces and bracelets, my wig and my baker boy cap (these hats are all over town now even though they didn't really hit the Fall '07 runways). But the bottom line is that I have to some extent succumbed to the world of the sick. I wasn't supposed to even receive radiation, but barely lamented when told that I would need to have my organs microwaved. It seems that resistance is futile.
Radiation patients feel your pain, Jean-Luc
FAMILY STUFF
On another note entirely, my little brother (26 years old) was hit by a car today. He is okay. But he fell onto the hood of the car and catapulted back onto the ground. An ambulance came to the sight but my brother said he was fine and didn't go to the hospital (needless to say, my parents and I were not impressed by this). His back started to hurt once he arrived home and ultimately he did go to the hospital. The doctor examined him and he seems to be fine. Between me getting radiation and my brother being hit by a car, this was a little too much for my parents today. They were overwhelmed and ferklempt earlier today, but have since recovered. I cooked them dinner (something I have done on occasion but plan to do on a weekly basis while in Montreal - I live in Toronto but am in Quebec for treatment) and they seemed to enjoy this. I have started to really relish cooking, particularly Asian-themed dishes. The meal consisted of a mango-spinach salad, tilapia with coconut-peanut sauce, asparagus with black bean sauce, and squash, with fresh cantaloupe, grapes and kiwi for dessert.
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