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.
So, where in the world is Dr. C? If anyone knows, please tell me. I’m supposed to see him next month.