Incurable but Treatable

I left work early that Wednesday morning a week ago, saying that I was going to a doctor's appointment over the lunch hour. That was indeed the truth but I didn't elaborate and they didn't ask. I drove the half hour to the Foothills Medical Centre, a large hospital in the NW quadrant of Calgary, Canada but I parked close to my real destination, a largish brown building next to the main hospital building that had large letters on the outside that said, "Tom Baker Cancer Centre".

I checked in at reception and was given a white card that identified me as a cancer patient. Then I was handed a clipboard with some paperwork and told to follow the yellow line to another waiting area. I did so, sat down and started filling the paperwork.

"Do you smoke?" "Have you ever taken recreational drugs?"

Okay, pretty standard questions so far.

"What symptoms concern you today?" was followed by a very long checklist of bad things that patients here can feel. I felt my stomach churning. I checked off a few: nausea, dizziness, diarrhea. I finished the paperwork and sat there, waiting anxiously. It wasn't long before I was called in by a nurse who led me to an examination room and tried to put me at ease. She asked me a long list of questions, confirming my medical history and why I was there. Then she left to fetch a doctor. A medical resident came in, introduced himself and asked me more questions, probing deeper into my medical history this time. He checked my lymph nodes, my lungs and my stomach. The latter was still tender from the liver needle biopsy a week ago. Answering my questions as best as he could, it wasn't long before he left to fetch my oncologist, who I will call Dr. D.

Dr. D's a big fellow who exudes positivity but who also has a sense of gravitas about him. He didn't waste any time: "You have advanced colon cancer. It's incurable but treatable. That means that all we can do is buy you time."

It was pretty much what I had expected so I didn't really flinch. He explained the course of treatment, mainly chemotherapy with some nasty side-effects. I had quite a few questions that the doctors patiently answered. They left and the nurse returned to handle the administrivia of setting up my appointments, explaining the services offered by the Tom Baker Cancer Centre, what my prescriptions were for and gave me a booklet-sized green packet of informational material. She then took me on a tour of the Cancer Daycare, an odd name for the chemotherapy treatment area.

The nurse was trying to be cheerful as she saw me out of the area. It's hard for me but by the look in her eyes, I'm sure it's hard for the nurse too, seeing so many cancer patients everyday. I walked out to my car, clutching the thick green packet. I have a lot to read, then I suspect a good cry is in order.