Your Cheatin' Heart
Thursday ended up being a crazy day. I had my quarterly oncologist appointment scheduled at 11:45. Since the crown my dentist was replacing had come in, he was going to fit me in at 10:45. (All of these doctors are 80 miles from where I live.) Well, the crown didn't fit, so the dentist started drilling and grinding on it to make it work. When it wouldn't, he had to redo the impression of my mouth. I had made a point of telling him about my onc appointment, but he was unable to get finished in time. So I pitched my first fit of the morning in his office and made him call the oncologist and get me another appointment that day. He did, but I now had three hours to kill.
When I finally got in to see the oncologist, I basically threw myself at his mercy. Here's our conversation, in a nutshell. "We need to talk about what the other options are to my taking this drug," I said. "There are none," he said. "There is another class of drugs, but it's for post menopausal women. I could make you post menopausal, but then you might never have kids and then the side effects would probably be even worse than what you're feeling now." Cue the tears. "I cannot do this for four more years. I cannot function." "You have no choice. But you could stand to lose a few pounds." Actually, in the middle of this conversation, he did mention a possible treatment for the side effects. He's mentioned it everytime I've brought it up for the past year. But he, for some reason he won't explain, doesn't want me to have it. I was so upset and ticked off when I left that I didn't realize I had put my shirt on backwards after the exam until I stopped for gas halfway home.
So I'm left with two options. Continue to take the drug, skipping one here and there in the hopes that it will help with the side effects, but at the same time reducing the efficacy. And most likely not helping with the side effects. Or stop taking the drug altogether and hope like hell that my cancer doesn't come back. To me, neither is an acceptable option when there is something that he can do, but won't.
My family wants me to see another oncologist for a second opinion and in my head I know this is the right thing to do. I kind of feel like this man saved my life, and going to see another doctor just feels like cheating. But mostly I'm just tired of cancer and don't want to feel sick anymore.
When I finally got in to see the oncologist, I basically threw myself at his mercy. Here's our conversation, in a nutshell. "We need to talk about what the other options are to my taking this drug," I said. "There are none," he said. "There is another class of drugs, but it's for post menopausal women. I could make you post menopausal, but then you might never have kids and then the side effects would probably be even worse than what you're feeling now." Cue the tears. "I cannot do this for four more years. I cannot function." "You have no choice. But you could stand to lose a few pounds." Actually, in the middle of this conversation, he did mention a possible treatment for the side effects. He's mentioned it everytime I've brought it up for the past year. But he, for some reason he won't explain, doesn't want me to have it. I was so upset and ticked off when I left that I didn't realize I had put my shirt on backwards after the exam until I stopped for gas halfway home.
So I'm left with two options. Continue to take the drug, skipping one here and there in the hopes that it will help with the side effects, but at the same time reducing the efficacy. And most likely not helping with the side effects. Or stop taking the drug altogether and hope like hell that my cancer doesn't come back. To me, neither is an acceptable option when there is something that he can do, but won't.
My family wants me to see another oncologist for a second opinion and in my head I know this is the right thing to do. I kind of feel like this man saved my life, and going to see another doctor just feels like cheating. But mostly I'm just tired of cancer and don't want to feel sick anymore.
Comments