Every year on March 22, the anniversary of my father’s death, I write an email to my father’s oncologist, Dr. M. In my correspondence to him, I thank him for giving my father options to consider in fighting his cancer. I sometimes ask him questions about death, loss and coping. And you know what? Every year, Dr. M writes back. He is a busy doctor, gathering research for his cancer patients, managing his clinical practice, and living his own life. But he takes time to articulate a response that is thoughtful and comforting. He thanks ME for writing him, grateful that I chose to keep in touch.
Dr. M always knew my father’s illness was incurable. He never hid from that fact. But during our countless visits to him, he explained and tried to help us understand what was going on with the pathology of my father’s illness. Often these visits would last over thirty minutes. A mixture of sadness and reality would penetrate Dr. M’s patient room, but there was always some hope too. He always offered a treatment that he believed would help my father fend off the cancer and buy him some more time.
When my father was diagnosed, he had less than twenty percent chance to live six months. With Dr. M and his treatment protocals he lived four and half years. When my father neared the end of his life, Dr. M wasn’t afraid to say that there was nothing more that he could do. When hope was a possibility he offered it; when there wasn’t any, he was realistic. And through it all, he was humble, gracious and kind.
My conversations with Dr. M happen only once a year. But what I learn from his words are truths he can only offer from his purview. He has emphasized that my father was lucky to have a family that supported him through his disease. There are many patients who have no one waiting for them while they are in surgery or getting chemo or sitting with them while they wait for the doctor’s examination. I never thought that my family’s willingness to be there for my father was a matter of luck. I always thought it was a matter of love. But from Dr. M’s perspective there are many who die alone and that makes it unbearable for the dying.
The second truth I’ve learned from Dr. M is that there are very few things we can control. Although we think every decision we make is in our control, there is so much we don’t know. When treating the dying, Dr. M has acknowledged that we can’t control the disease, but we exercise our educated judgment and hope for the best. And that at a certain point we must let go. That God does the rest. And that may sound trite coming from me, but I don’t think that it sounds that way from Dr. M. The lessons of letting go come best from those who observe it on a daily basis.
I’m grateful that my father and family intersected with Dr. M. He has taught me that a prerequisite for being a good doctor has nothing to with medicine. It has everything to do with being a good person. And those qualities are something we all can learn to do better.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Have you encountered a good doctor? Have you learned any lessons from these individuals? Do you think my family’s experience with Dr. M is rare?
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Your final paragraph says it all…if there were more doctors like him, the world would be a better place. I’m thankful for your father, you, and your family that you had a man like that to ease your way through that difficult time.
We are grateful too. The cancer was certainly difficult to deal with, but with the guidance and spirit of Dr. M, the pain was muted at times.
Ease really was not the proper word for me to have used, I mean to navigate or guide.
Rudri, this made me sad. I think that it’s nice that you are writing to this remarkable doctor.
He is a good person and that’s why he is exceptional with his care for others. I am glad he was a part of your family’s life and that he made things easier for your dad.
My intent was not sadness in this post. Actually, I found it rather uplifting to write, acknowledging that someone other than my family also had a stake in my father’s life and did what he could to help him and us. I am sorry it made you feel sad, but I just wanted to acknowledge that there are still doctors who care and practice medicine with grace.
Wow, Rudri. Doctors like him don’t come around often these days; I’m glad your family had him by your side. You would think that it would be easier for him to do his job if he removed himself from the personal side of his patients but in reality, his effort in reaching out makes him a better doctor. And ultimately, a wonderful human being.
Yes, it is ironic that doctors I taught to be detached or not emotionally connected to their patients. I think he was detached in the larger sense, but was able to also infuse some connection with my father and with the family. I am sad to hear that stories about doctors like him are a novelty these days.
I have seen good and bad doctors, those who are honest and caring, those who tell only the best news, those who are gruff. When my grandfather was dying, I wrote to his oncologist. He took the time to write to me, a 13 year old, even though my letter reached him after my grandfather died. That letter meanst so much to me.
Wow, Kate. That is incredible insight by you. I am so glad that he wrote back. And I completely understand why that letter means so much to you.
I don’t think it’s too much to expect humanity in a doctor. But sadly, it’s not a given.
Yes. So true Belinda. There are people I know who have had horrific experiences with doctors. But for every few doctors that are not ideal, there are doctors like Dr. M…
What a beautiful post, Rudri. It brings me to tears, and feeling as though both luck and love came together for your family and quite possibly Dr. M. Yes, we need more physicians of this sort, but quite possibly, it was good for him as well to get to know a family of your sort.
We don’t all have that. If we’re lucky, yes lucky, we can create it. Especially if we believe it’s possible and work to do it.
As for physicians, I have encountered two in my life who made a difference, and all too many who are dismissive and in their own way, disrespectful. I believe they have their reasons – including the complexity of our health care system in the US, and many are surely caught between that rock and a hard place that includes insurance companies, an increasingly litigious public, and their own need to make it through the day. The patient often gets lost in the blur.
We could all do with more good and decent people in all professions. Imagine what that might be like…
Thanks BLW. I know that there are so many physicians who view their professions as just a job, but people like Dr. M are great reminders of what a caring, loving and empathetic physican encompasses. I am grateful that my father and my family were nurtured in his care.
Your experience is so poles apart from my own in dealing with my father’s illness (basically it was a *total* nightmare) and so different from the Consultants I have had to see over the years. (Think of the TV character of ‘House’ and that’s what I’m talking about). It’s fairly easy to find pleasant GPs/family doctors but once medics are up in the more rarified atmosphere of the ‘Consultant’ category they seem too often to carry a certain arrogance that makes them, in my experience anyway, frankly downright unpleasant to deal with.
So yes, I’d have to say that Dr M is indeed a rarity. I think it’s lovely that you keep in touch with him and I bet it doesn’t happen too often because most of us want to steer clear of anything and everything to do with hospitals at the earliest opportunity. I’m sure he really appreciates your letters and they probably ‘put wind in his sails’ to continue on in the same manner.
I realized after composing this post that there are probably not too many people who actually write to their physicians. I think it is an important exercise in practicing gratitude.
I’m sorry your luck hasn’t been better in dealing with people in the medical field. Unfortunately, I don’t believe your experience was atypical.
Wow. What a doctor. I have one doctor that calls me personally with test results and he’s my favorite.
That’s great. I love doctor who still makes personal calls instead of the staff. What a personal touch.