I checked my messages and heard the following: "Hi Amy. I was calling to ask a quick question. Well, 'favor.' Please call me back at your convenience." It was my oncologist. The message made my heart race slightly, but I calmed myself with the comforting thought that I was not awaiting test results or any other information that could turn out to be bad news concerning new threats to my life. But I was very curious. What kind of a favor could I do for my oncologist? I immediately called the office number he gave me. I got the outside-office-hours recording at 4:30 in the afternoon when it shouldn't have come on until 5:00. (The medical staff skipping out early? Now that is scary.) I left a detailed message that was intended to convey my fervent wish to hear back from the doctor promptly.
No call back that evening.
By the next morning, curiosity had morphed into high anxiety. Perhaps the doctor had spent some time analyzing my latest blood counts (after all, what do doctors do when they are not meeting with patients or playing golf?), and discovered new problems. I called the doctor's office as soon as I sat down at my desk. I told the operator that I hoped to hear from the doctor directly since he had left a message for me and I was eager to know what it concerned given that I was a cancer patient. (Once again, I found it helpful to play the BC card.) "Oh sure, sure!" she answered empathically.
I then began a day of watching the clock and reviewing all of the possible interpretations of the cryptic message. A "favor." I suppose if he was calling to tell me that my blood counts indicated extreme anemia or immunity system failure, it would be a "favor" to him if I were to do something about it. A dead patient, after all, could have a negative impact on his reputation. On the other hand, if my blood counts indicated that the cancer had spread to my liver, the "favor" could be to consider discontinuing treatment so as to save precious resources for patients who might benefit from them. A more optimistic interpretation I considered briefly was that he wanted me to speak to one of his other patients because I was a model cancer patient who could offer invaluable advice and encouragement to less experienced, more frightened cancer patients. I dismissed that possibility at about the time I chewed off my last fingernail. I considered the possibility that he simply wanted to change an appointment time. That one too I had to dismiss since it was unlikely the famous doctor would waste his time making such a call. Perhaps he heard that I was planning more exotic travel this summer and he wanted me to do him the "favor" of not going. I killed three hours this way. I made sure not to use my cell phone for outgoing calls.
I decided I needed a change of scenery. I connected my cell phone to my clothes and went outside to do some yard chores.I jumped with every beep my phone made, and each time the phone would fall in the dirt. At this rate I would break the stinkin' phone and never find out why the doctor called...until it was too late. I drove around in the car to do made up errands. I continued to watch the time. I considered the possible times when a busy doctor might be free to place a call to one of his patients. During his lunch break? After normal business hours? At the approximate time of the message that he left me the day before?
No call. After 8:00 PM, I relaxed. He wasn't going to call that late. I needn't worry about receiving bad news that day. I slept soundly that night, the anxiety having wiped me out.
The next morning I prepared to wait again to hear the "favor". I tried hard not to spend more time analyzing the message. This was difficult when every half hour my husband would inquire whether I had heard from the doctor. His curiosity was morphing into anger and frustration, which did nothing to reduce my anxiety.
At 2:00 pm I decided I had to call the vet to ask a question about some medication my dog is taking. (It's comforting to have another family member dealing with medical issues even if she is about 105 years old in people years.) I had to make the phone call from my Blackberry because that was where I could most easily access the number. I said to myself, "this is the exact moment he will try to call." I placed the call. Veterinarians are not so different from oncologists. You don't just dial numbers and talk to them. No sooner had I connected with the not-so-easy-to-reach vet, that I heard the beep that indicated I had another call on the line. I immediately hung up on the vet to connect with the incoming call. Sure enough, it was the doctor on the other line. Why do things like that happen?
He said "Hi Amy. I wanted to ask you whether it would be alright to give your name to a colleague of mine who is writing an article about breast cancer screening..." Feelings of well-being and relief swept through me. I told the doctor I would be delighted to participate. I also told the doctor that receiving a cryptic message from one's oncologist can be anxiety provoking for a cancer patient, and could he in future messages, leave more information about why he is calling so I don't have to go through two days of excruciating anxiety. I didn't get the sense he really absorbed my meaning.
I hurried outside to find my husband to tell him the good news. I suddenly felt the gorgeous warmth of the summer day, smelled the delicious floral scents of the yard, delighted in the green of the lawn and the new leaves on the trees. Everything was perfect and beautiful again. Except, I still have cancer.
That telephone message seemed to trigger all of the anxiety I used to feel during my pre-cancer diagnosis days when I anxiously awaited screening results. Ironically, I haven't felt that level of anxiety since I finally received my cancer diagnosis.
This feeling of waiting for scary news reminds me of a recurring dream I used to have when I was little. I was alone in my house when I suddenly realized that there were bad guys on my roof waiting to pounce on anyone who tried to escape. I had to decide whether to hide inside the house or make a break for my neighbors' house. My instinct was always that it would be better to confront the bad guys in open space than wait for them to find my hiding place inside the house. So I'd pick my exit and run like hell towards the neighbors. Sometimes the bad guys would catch me. I would quickly transform from frightened escapee to charming new collaborator. The idea was to get them to like me so much that they change their minds about hurting me.
I think the analogy here is that I have made the break from the house, have been caught by the cancer villain and am now working on charming him so that he will change his mind about killing me. (And if that works, I'll have to try it on the vet.)
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