continued from chapter 8: part 3
Hal expected that his reporter listening skills would be an advantage to establish rapport with the medical staff but he hadn't counted on the Catch 22 of clinics; you won't a;ways see "your" doctor each visit.
The Oncologist has a back-up team of qualified residents who share the assignments, so you never know until clinic day which one you will be seeing. This can be a big obstacle, doubly so if you're not prepared for a substitute and you'll want to think carefully about what you want to accomplish with the doctor of-the-day. This system calls for more flexibility on your part and you may have to adapt your personality to fit theirs to get the best out of the visit and to ensure that you understand one another. Too manipulative you think? You're shedding the no-longer-useful parts of your personality in order to gain this doctor's concentration on you and on your health and welfare. You're not going to change their system, but you have total control over the person they are treating.
Our first clinic visit to the cancer hospital was traumatic for me; Hal never expressed any emotion about it; he behaved matter-of-factly as though this was the next job on the agenda, so let's get on with it. You simply must forget the notion that you walk to the desk and announce you have a two o'clock appointment with your doctor. You might also have an appointment with the haemodialyses lab for the usual blood sample, or you may have an appointment for an ex ray, or a c.a.t. scan. or whatever. You will wait, that you can count on.
It begins the same way: you will check in at the admitting desk, then your file is pulled and sent to whichever clinic area you will be in that day. On Hal's first visit, a volunteer took us off to one side and offered coffee until he was taken in the admissions office to fill out some forms. His photo was taken and stapled to the back of his file, which was a practical way of comparing any changes in his appearance from visit to visit.
Next, the volunteer collected a batch of us newcomers and took us upstairs to the examination clinic. We sat in a crowded holding area and looked carefully around at our companions. Some of them looked skinny, some were in wheelchairs, some women wore those head covers, but by and large, it looked like a normal group. A volunteer called Hal's name and he went around the corner for a weigh-in. She told him his weight in metric, and when we converted it later, could see that his weight was up, probably ten pounds more than he liked.
The holding area is like being with family. You see familiar faces and there is an air of patience; we understand that delay mean one of us is getting special attention because it's needed. One day, you may claim that extra time, and for now you'll try not to begrudge the extra wait.
Eventually it will be your turn and the nurse will direct you to an examining room off the main corridor. Your job is to be thoroughly prepared for your doctor visit. Your trump card is the diary you bring with you, that I will describe in another chapter. It's also your backup system. During our first clinic visits we sometimes went home feeling dissatisfied, and when we analysed the visit over a cup of coffee we realized we hadn't asked the right questions. It's hard to know which question to ask. That's where the diary comes in. We always found that the doctor-of-the-day was unfailingly patient about answering questions and if we had known enough to bring the notebook with us, we would have been so much better prepared. You will have reviewed your questions in the waiting area. Using this method is the best of teamwork and chances are you'll leave satisfied that you've been heard.
continued in chapter 8: part 5
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