A few weeks back, I found out that my favorite surgeon is no
longer with his practice. It’s all
been very mysterious and the practice has been very secretive as to why he “left”
and where he has gone. I, along
with several of my BC sisters, am irritated,
to put it politely. I know that
several gals have been offered appointments with other surgeons in the practice
and have flat out REFUSED. I
really need to make my quarterly follow-up with Dr. C, but I’m not even going
to bother since I too would refuse to see anyone else.
I am sure that the other surgeons in the practice are
perfectly competent and may in fact be very nice people. They, however, are NOT Dr. C. They do not have the rapport that he
has with me. They do not know how
my body reacts to surgery or how it heals. They know from the office staff that I am a nut-job
runner/triathlete, but they don’t understand my obsession the way Dr. C does.
There are several theories floating around as to why he has
“left” the practice. No one has
disputed the fact that he is an excellent surgeon. Maybe he didn’t do his billing or paperwork properly and
they were sick and tired of correcting him. Maybe he saw his patients too much for the practice’s liking
and caused it to lose too much money.
Many think that the other surgeons in the practice resented his rapport
with all his groupies/patients.
While I doubt we’ll never know the real reason he is gone, I wish the
practice would be a bit more forthcoming with information regarding his
whereabouts. I for one want
to know!
It makes me want to cry that he’s gone and no one will spill
the beans where he is or why he left.
Dr. C is one of those rare surgeons that is extremely skilled, but also
compassionate. He always has a
hug, a joke, a smile. He is
thorough and takes the time if you need it or want it. He is passionate about what he does. I asked him once why he specialized in
breast surgery. He responded
simply, “Because I have a wife and three daughters.” ‘Nuf said.
I credit two men with “saving my life”. One, of course, is Joe because he found
the tumor. Dr. C is the other one
because he removed the tumor, the lymph nodes that it had invaded and all of
the breast tissue that it could have wreaked further havoc on. He treated me gently when I needed it,
held my hand when I was scared, teased me when I was feeling well, or chewed me
out when necessary. Even when he
chewed me out, I knew that he did it because he genuinely cared about me and my
wellbeing.
I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to see someone else for
my care. I wouldn’t trust them to
not “screw things up” or to listen to me and take me seriously like Dr. C does. While the other docs in the practice
maybe just as skilled in general surgery, I highly doubt that they have Dr. C’s
skill with boobs and the fragile women whose bodies they are attached to. Thankfully, all of my surgeries are
done for the next eighteen or so years until I need a trade-in for my
Frankenboobs. Still, I’m supposed
to see Dr. C quarterly for lymphedema checks, general cancer checkups
(aches/pains/weird symptoms), and my annual armpit/chest ultrasounds in lieu of
a mammogram. Because Dr. C has cut
and stitched and removed significant portions of my body, he knows what’s
normal or not. And, while I know
he can’t always be my surgeon, I’m not ready to cut the ties just yet. He’s a bit like a security
blanket to me and lots of other women.
If he says you’re okay, chances are very good that you really are okay.
I’m not the only one that feels that strongly about Dr.
C. My friend Tracy drives six
hours from Florida to see Dr. C whenever she needs a check up. She’s not ready to let go either. If Dr. C starts his own practice and
it’s not in the area, I will do the same thing.
 |
| Dr. C was never too sure about my athletic endeavors, but tolerated me doing them. |
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