I'm back in the chair again today, which means I'm back to finding ways to avoid doing work on my laptop and updating my blog with the crazy journey that cancer is. Well, not really, but it's kind of funny.
I've developed a cold to complement my bloody nose...creating a runny/bloody nose mixture that requires me to blow my nose constantly, lest I bleed all over the floor of wherever I'm currently at. This has gotten a bit tricky, as it resulted in a group of native Americans following my blood trail over the course of this weekend in the hopes that it was a wounded buffalo. After several days of tracking, they turned the corner into my yard hoping to find the majestic animal lying dead in the yard, which would provide them months of meat and a variety of tools. Instead they found a bald, pale, overprivileged white man sitting on his porch Googling "How to cook a goose" on his phone. Disappointed at the decline of mankind into this species that is so entirely dependant on technology, the native Americans gathered up their spears and left. One cried a single tear that rolled down his cheek...I tried to get a picture of it with my Blackberry, but I forgot which hot button I set up for the camera and instead started up my GPS app.
I got an e-mail from my "Cancer Buddy," (my Nana who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer) who half-jokingly talked about friends that keep suggesting "the best doctor" they insist on having you go see.
This is something I can relate to. When I was first diagnosed, I had several people suggest I get second opinions, check out "their oncologist" or drive up to Rochester, which seems to be like the holy grail of cancer treatments. For me, the last option was out due to the fact that everyone I know that has gone up to Rochester has been for the "serious cancers." I'm not saying testicular cancer isn't serious...it can be...but for a cancer that hasn't spread to my brain, I'm not going to go into lifetime debt.
Really, the people that have gone through cancer that suggest oncologists are completely understandable. There's something about going through a cancer diagnosis with a person that makes you feel like they are the greatest human beings on earth, and mine is no exception. If you told me that after leaving the hospital each day, my oncologist puts on a cape and a mask and fights crime across central Iowa, I would completely believe that. My oncologist is awesome, and he's helping me through what is a pretty intensive process for a pretty nasty disease.
Nobody has had cancer, goes through a successful treatment and says, "My oncologist was OK. I could have gotten somebody better, but he got the job done." Hell no...you're not hiring a high school kid to mow your lawn or eating a hotdog when you're really hungry. This is cancer, and if there's even a slight chance that you won't survive, you don't want the friend of a second cousin who really needs the experience doing it for you. You want "Thor, Battler of Cancer," and oncologists know this...that's why they put a lot of effort into getting to know you and answering every single one of your 500 questions during your meetings. Once you get going, you put a lot of faith in your onc, and they end up looking like Superman because of that.
When you're first diagnosed, however, you don't have a lot of time, exactly, to hop on Angie's List and start comparing oncologists like brands of detergent. Things move fast...I went from feeling healthy to having cancer and losing a testicle in 24 hours...I've eaten slices of pizza that have been sitting out longer than that (I'm not proud of that, but it's a true statement). That leaves you no time to go out and shop around, but when you get your oncologist you immediately recognize their awesomeness. It's no doubt that they recommend their doc so strongly. "Oh, you have cancer? I have a cancer guy...he's the best."
When it happens to you, you've got a very small window if you want to shop around, and by shopping around you're likely not going to find someone better. I found out later that someone who had my onc sought a second opinion at Mayo, and everything - prognosis, treatment, etc. - was exactly the same. All oncologists are good...I don't think there are many that just skim through their classes, get wasted on the weekends, and somehow land a job as an onc at a reputable hospital. "Oh, hey bro. Heard you have cancer...bummer. Let's try and 86 it, cool?"
Almost finished for today, and feeling decent so far. We'll see how this goes once I get near the end of the week...by that time the first week, the sight of an IV bag made me feel nauseous.
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