My wife has thyroid cancer. When she was diagnosed a year ago, the doctors did not seem to share the same sense of urgency as us to schedule the removal surgery. When I asked the doctor why this is, he explained that thyroid cancer doesn’t spread rapidly and ravage the rest of the body (paraphrased). We understood, and waited the 4 weeks for surgery.
(As an aside, that is an awful way to live; I would see my wife peek in the mirror and run her fingers over the small-but-noticable lump in her neck. For 4 weeks. “Honey, I think it’s getting bigger. Does it look like it?” I really feel terrible for anyone who has to go to sleep knowing there is a cancer in their body.)
Anyway, a year later and she doesn’t feel any better. So we go to the doctor for her check-up, before which they ran labs. The doctor has looked at the results, and thus begins the most ambiguous conversation with a professional I’ve ever had.
Him: “Hmmm.”
Us: “What’s that Doc? Did you say ‘hmmm’?”
Him: “Yes. I don’t see what I’m looking for here, but maybe it’s just not here.”
Note: Our endocrinologist is NOT Yogi Berra.
Us: “We don’t exactly follow, Doctor.”
Him: “Well, this level is still too high, and this area here might indicate something in the lymph nodes that we did not remove…”
Us: “We had a feeling. So do we run more tests to be certain that we need to go back in for more surgery? We really want to be aggressive in treating this, you understand.”
Him: Says something unintelligible to, the best we can ascertain, his ink pen.
Us: “I’m sorry? Was that a yes?”
him: “Well, there is a chance…and maybe…up these meds…”
Us: …Blank stares…
Him: “So we will go from there. Okay?”
And we wrapped it up. I walked out of that office mad at the doctor, mad at my wife, and mad at the world. Thankfully, we went home and talked about everything he had said, and finally began to see a little humor in it. We have decided that I could probably be an endocrinologist, with my mad BS skillz and repository of large words. See?