How 'bout a little humanity?

It's another day, and another abrupt, unempathetic call from a health care worker at my local public hospital telling me I need to set up an appointment to take a medication she knows nothing about.

An injection.

It dawns on me that the generic medication she is referring to is the unpleasant menopause inducing shot that is given in the tender, sensitive skin of my stomach. Ugh. This is just one small part of my next line of cancer treatment. I ask more questions, and she knows nothing and is clearly just the messenger. She is only able to tell me more unsettling news regarding the change in hospital policy: they are now only offering the monthly shots at a certain time of the day, convenient for those of us who are also trying to maintain a full-time job.   She says all of this without any reaction to my noticeable disappointment. I am not surprised. It only gets worse: instead of a private room (where I could maybe salvage an ounce of dignity) and deal with the pain in private, I will instead be in the treatment room. I know what this means.

The chemo room. Great. As if that isn't immensely triggering for a cancer patient...

I hang up the phone and the silent, familiar tears sting my eyes.

I assess why I am so angry, frustrated, sad and defeated. It is the boundless lack of humanity. I decide to call my oncologist's nurse, who politely explains "This is a public hospital, and we are doing the best that we can. We are just following the new policy"

This all-too-common callous interaction with a health care worker is unfortunately very familiar. The issue now is that this is in SUCH stark contrast to my appointment last week at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL. I sought out the Mayo Clinic because of the lack of humanity in the healthcare system/public hospital/health insurance; I wanted to talk to a doctor about how to mitigate my severe symptoms from the drugs I was about to take. My previous local oncologist told me "We should just see how you feel first."

No, I will not "see how I feel first." I know how I will feel. This isn't my first rodeo. You cannot bamboozle me with your false assurances that it really won't "be that bad." I've gone through medically educed menopause before. It's no walk in the park.

I decided that a less than two-hour drive to the Mayo Clinic was worth it to see about finding more comprehensive care. From the first intake call with Mayo, I couldn't believe I was being treated like a person. Kindness? Humanity? Dignity? These were not things I would ever associate with any of the hundreds of health care calls I've experienced over the last five years.

As my husband and I drove onto the Mayo campus last week, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Bizzaro world? Pleasantville? Big, beautiful oak trees lined the shaded, perfectly winding road and expertly manicured landscaping. Where were we?

It only became more extravagant as we entered the building where my appointment would take place. A beautiful Starbucks?! Yes, I will take a latte with my oncology appointment, thank you very much. Everyone we encountered could not have been more kind and friendly. Are we really in a hospital? The exam room that we were escorted to was nothing short of magnificent. Everything from the clean, new carpet on the floor, the beautiful green and gold wallpaper, the iris photograph that took center stage, and the comfortable couch we were sitting on... Everything exuded warmth and calm. I was warm and calm.

But it wasn't just the environment of the room. It was the doctor that took the time to listen to my concerns about the severe symptoms that will come with my next round of treatments. She happily discussed the stack of research articles I brought with me to the appointment. The doctor suggested that she could work with my local oncologist at the public hospital, so I could get my monthly shot closer to home. Before the appointment ended, my oncologist said "thank you for being so transparent and telling me about the additional treatments you will be pursing to help manage your symptoms."

Mind blown. She was thanking ME? Could this be happening?

Not only was she thanking me, but she also wasn't firing me or shaming me for not being the "perfect patient" or the "good soldier." You learn early on as a cancer patient, that the oncologists really just want you to take the meds that are prescribed. Don't ask too many questions. Don't complain about side effects. They are normal. Heaven forbid, you try to modify the "standard of care" protocol to fit your personal needs. This new doctor listened and offered me her expertise.

I was a human. For once, I wasn't just the patient.

Next level Mayo exam room:

I will end by saying that everyone should be treated with dignity and respect. Every cancer patient should be treated like a human. Health care (public and private) can do better; this country can do better. I realize I am very privileged to have the opportunity to seek out care at the Mayo Clinic. With that said, we pay A LOTTTTTT of money every month for comprehensive health insurance, as we are self-employed.

It pains me to know Mayo Clinic, and other research hospitals, are not available to everyone who might want to seek more comprehensive care.

We can do better. We have to do better.

****I'll leave you with a cow picture because life is hard. Cow pictures do the heart good.