Part 3 - The Doctors
Dr. Timothy Miller, a native of Oregon, has been my primary physician for the last two years. I have a lot for which to thank him. When I went in about my swallowing problem he jumped on it, ordered a Barium Swallow test that revealed a jagged growth at the junction of my esophagus/stomach.
Dr. Miller is up here doing his internship at Providence Family Medicine. I was one of his first patients, and we got along from the beginning, but he will be my primary for only another year. He is the fourth intern I’ve had in 5 years, and will, like the rest, move on after he finishes his residency. I’ll then have to break in another, so I may change to a new Medicare unit that just opened – would like to see the same doctor from now on.
That test launched us on a quest in which it now seems that I’ve seen as many doctors as in all my previous life. Dr. Charles Shannon performed an upper endoscopy a week later, didn’t like what he saw, and ordered a CT scan for the next day. Once the biopsy came in he told me to find an Oncologist. Normally I would have looked up the word, but under the circumstances the meaning was obvious – cancer doctor. Mary and I have been on the Internet these past two months. She has concentrated on getting names and looking up info on doctors. I focused more on my cancer, how it would likely be treated, and by what type of doctor.
One of the first things I discovered was that three doctors would work as a team while treating my cancer. One specializes in Chemo therapy, one in Radiation Therapy and the last is a surgeon. I assumed all three would be working out of one office, so all I had to do was decide which team I liked and just settle in for treatment. It doesn’t necessarily work that way. We found several “Oncology” clinics, one at each major hospital, but all the doctors in those offices were Chemo specialists. Radiation therapists had their own clinics, with several radiation specialists working at each. Surgeons worked independently. Once we made our separate selections the three doctors would then coordinate their work.
We chose the oncologist (Chemo) first. Dr. Verneeda Spencer is a likable, down-to-earth, physician, without pretention. She is a African American/Choctaw native of Alabama who left that state for medical school in New Jersey some years ago. I got the impression she never looked back other than to visit family. Doctor Richard Chung became our Radiation specialist. He is a native of Taiwan and San Francisco who came to Alaska soon after completing his residency in 1994.
We settled on Dr. Richard Peters as my surgeon once his assisting physician, Dr. Peter Marbarger, a specialist in vascular surgery, said he would want Peters to operate if he were in my shoes. Dr. Peters was a career military doctor, certified in trauma surgery, and the most experienced in the state for the type of surgery I require. The two physicians are a “Mutt and Jeff” combo, Peters being the short one. He is military tidy, sports a neatly trimmed mustache, dresses sharply, and jokes with a biting sense of humor. Marbarger is tall, scruffy, sports a shaggy beard, wears casual clothes that seem ready to fall off his body, but evinces a comfortable, nonchalant presence.
The last member of my “team” is a Naturopathic doctor. I decided I would cover all bases. Doctor Markian Babij, a certified naturopathic oncologist is a native of Canada, has worked at several cancer treatment centers, and provided tips and a list of supplements to help alleviate the undesirable effects of Chemo and Radiation. I now swallow a fairly large number of pills throughout each day.
I started radiation yesterday and have my first chemo injection tomorrow. I am as ready as I’ll ever be for what comes.
I have a twenty percent chance of being alive five years from now. That’s the survival rate for those with stage three esophageal cancers. That’s a statistic, a number average drawn from a pool of thousands of similarly diagnosed cancer patients. That number has little significance to me or any other single individual in the sample - we are all different. Most people are diagnosed when they are in their seventies and I‘m seventy-two. Many stomach/esophageal cancer sufferers have no symptoms until they are in an advanced stage. I’ve had a bit of luck with early detection. Some people are already sick when they are diagnosed, either with the cancer or other ailments, but I’m basically in good health. Some have lost a lot of weight by the time the cancer is discovered. I weigh in at about 195 pounds. That’s been my minimum weight for several years. I had wanted to lose ten pounds (without success), but the doctor now gives me orders to eat healthily and whole- heartily (which I happily comply), and even to supplement it with Ensure or other high protein drinks. Some patients respond better to chemo and radiation treatment than others. I don’t yet know how that will go.
There are other factors. My wife, Mary, offers a legion of support and that’s boosted by the concern shown by friends, neighbors, and family. Lastly, I think a huge factor is a person’s outlook on life. I’m a “What! Me Worry?” sort of guy. I refuse to fret over the infinite possible realities that can spring from a situation. I’d rather just deal with things when they arise. I try to control my mouth and bowels, and have lived long enough to know little else in this world can be managed with certainty. So, my bottle is half-full, and the sun follows rainy days. There was that initial shock upon hearing the word “Malignant tumor”, but now I’ve gravitated back toward my usual attitude of taking life as it comes. It surprises me though of what one can get used to.
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