When I approached a very special anniversary of sorts (we call it “a milestone” in our world), I started reflecting on the past five years. The anniversary in question marked five years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. For the longest time, I was unable to talk about my experience because of the overwhelming emotions it brought up. Now, I finally can.
As a hematologist/oncologist, I thought that I was already very empathetic to my patients’ struggles. However, now that I have walked the same path, I have a better understanding and appreciation of what each of my patients goes through. Every biopsy and every imaging study we order means a lot of anguish and anxiety for them, both during and after, while they wait for results. Every therapy, even the “milder” ones, has side effects that patients must live with, sometimes for years. Every visit to the office or to an infusion center requires logistical planning and takes time away from work and family.
After my diagnosis, as I imagine every one of our patients wonders when they are given a cancer diagnosis, I asked myself, “I have done everything right. Why me?” I think I now know the answer to that question.
As a foreign graduate, a woman, and an up-and-coming young hematologist who has worked hard to get to where I am today, my career as a hematologist and an investigator was my everything. My diagnosis was somewhat of a wake-up call. I was staying home that spring while going through radiation therapy and, for the first time, my eyes saw the beautiful flowering trees in my backyard that I had overlooked in the several years I had already lived there. I wondered, “Where was I all these years?”
I asked myself another question that changed my outlook on many things while I was making decisions about my treatment options: “If I were on my deathbed today, what would be my biggest regret?” The honest answer was somewhat staggering: I haven’t lived. Although I was alive all these years, I hadn’t lived. I have since made several changes in my life. I have started exploring and enjoying the wonders of the world, making every effort to be more present and take in the beauty of all there is around us – even the smallest things.
To help me cope with all that was happening while I was getting treatment, and with all that was to come, I signed up for a meditation class held right across the street from my office. We learned some of the old wisdoms in that class, including a teaching that struck a chord in my mind and my heart: “The only constant thing in our lives is change. Change is inevitable.” The way we see ourselves today will undoubtedly be different from how we see ourselves tomorrow, whether we want that change or not. That realization helped me tremendously as I tried to cope, and it is now something I share routinely with my patients.
Over the past five years, I have become more present for me, for my loved ones, and for my patients. I learned that taking the time to travel and do the things that matter to me can go hand in hand with our demanding work lives. These pursuits help us recharge so we are in better states of mind as caregivers for our patients.
So, I now know the answer to the question I asked when I was diagnosed. Why me? I had breast cancer five years ago, and I am now a better physician because of it.
