Don't Leave Me This Way: Or When I Get Back on My Feet You'll Be Sorry by Julia Fox Garrison
Authors: Julia Fox Garrison
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without a brain biopsy showing the diseased cells, he is “working on an assumption.” He insists that you be treated with the standard drugs used for vasculitis.
He is not pleased that you have refused the second chemotherapy treatment while in the rehab hospital. You are still arguing that you don’t want to push it: Additional chemotherapy seems like an extreme step, and a great way to make absolutely sure you become sterile.
You want to have another child.
He brushes this off—again. “At least you have Rory.” As if to say: Isn’t that enough for you? “I have an only child,” he continues, “and it’s great.”
“Well,” you counter, “that’s your choice, not mine, and I don’t want science changing my options.”
“Don’t you think it would have been wise to consult me about the brain biopsy?” Dr. Jerk asks. “All the other doctors are still testing and diagnosing you. I’m actually treating you.”
Sensing a fight in the offing, Dr. Doogie leaves the room.
“That’s why I didn’t consult you,” you tell him, looking him straight in the eye. “You’ve already made up your mind about what I have. I don’t believe your diagnosis is correct, and Dr. Neuro is not so sure either. At least he knows enough to say when he doesn’t know something. What if the biopsy proved negative? Then what would your treatment be for me?”
“It would be the same either way—chemotherapy monthly for life. That is the correct treatment for your disease.”
Talk about not letting the facts get in the way of your work.
“Look,” you say, “I want to be absolutely sure I’ve got this disease you say I have before I poison my body for the rest of my life. My gut is telling me I don’t have this. I trust my gut, which is my consciousness, which is ultimately my soul. You’ve heard of a soul, right? I mean, did you, you know, get one during orientation?”
“The only way to get a conclusive diagnosis is through your autopsy,” Dr. Jerk snarls.
You’re stunned. “Well, I’m not going to rush to have that procedure.”
Dr. Jerk snorts, and then bolts out of the room in a huff.
Your relationship with him, now openly contentious, has been deteriorating for so long that it is, you can tell, at odds with your becoming healthy. He is so bent on being right that he simply can’t see anything but his own opinion.
A FEW MINUTES LATER Dr. Jerk is standing at your bedside.
“I’ve set up an appointment with Dr. Guru in Ohio. He’s the premier expert on vasculitis disease. He actually is doing me a favor by seeing you. I’ve already consulted him. You will fly to Ohio to have him examine you. Of course, he deserves to get paid for his time.”
“When did you make this appointment for?”
“When you’re released from the hospital in a few weeks. You should feel privileged to see him. He’s going to confirm my diagnosis.” Dr. Jerk was giddy with pride that he had such a powerful connection.
“Wait a minute. I’m supposed to fly to his hospital, have Jim take time off and leave my three-year-old, and go halfway across the country to talk to a guy who you already know is going to confirm your diagnosis? I don’t call that opinion, I call that collusion. I’m not doing it. Anyway, I’ve already decided I’m not going to do the brain biopsy. Jim doesn’t want me to; it’s too inconclusive.”
“You’re making a mistake by not seeing Dr. Guru. He doesn’t consent to see just anybody.”
“Well, I don’t consent to see him. It’s too bad he won’t get the pleasure of meeting me.”
“You’re being an obstinate fool. I’m trying to help you.”
“Obstinate. That’s a new label for me, I already have denial and impulsive. I prefer determined, positive, and hopeful. I’ve got news for you: I want to have another baby, and I’ll be Rollerblading with Rory before too long.”
“Make no mistake, my dear. You really are in DENIAL.” He turns on his heel and leaves.
Just
He is not pleased that you have refused the second chemotherapy treatment while in the rehab hospital. You are still arguing that you don’t want to push it: Additional chemotherapy seems like an extreme step, and a great way to make absolutely sure you become sterile.
You want to have another child.
He brushes this off—again. “At least you have Rory.” As if to say: Isn’t that enough for you? “I have an only child,” he continues, “and it’s great.”
“Well,” you counter, “that’s your choice, not mine, and I don’t want science changing my options.”
“Don’t you think it would have been wise to consult me about the brain biopsy?” Dr. Jerk asks. “All the other doctors are still testing and diagnosing you. I’m actually treating you.”
Sensing a fight in the offing, Dr. Doogie leaves the room.
“That’s why I didn’t consult you,” you tell him, looking him straight in the eye. “You’ve already made up your mind about what I have. I don’t believe your diagnosis is correct, and Dr. Neuro is not so sure either. At least he knows enough to say when he doesn’t know something. What if the biopsy proved negative? Then what would your treatment be for me?”
“It would be the same either way—chemotherapy monthly for life. That is the correct treatment for your disease.”
Talk about not letting the facts get in the way of your work.
“Look,” you say, “I want to be absolutely sure I’ve got this disease you say I have before I poison my body for the rest of my life. My gut is telling me I don’t have this. I trust my gut, which is my consciousness, which is ultimately my soul. You’ve heard of a soul, right? I mean, did you, you know, get one during orientation?”
“The only way to get a conclusive diagnosis is through your autopsy,” Dr. Jerk snarls.
You’re stunned. “Well, I’m not going to rush to have that procedure.”
Dr. Jerk snorts, and then bolts out of the room in a huff.
Your relationship with him, now openly contentious, has been deteriorating for so long that it is, you can tell, at odds with your becoming healthy. He is so bent on being right that he simply can’t see anything but his own opinion.
A FEW MINUTES LATER Dr. Jerk is standing at your bedside.
“I’ve set up an appointment with Dr. Guru in Ohio. He’s the premier expert on vasculitis disease. He actually is doing me a favor by seeing you. I’ve already consulted him. You will fly to Ohio to have him examine you. Of course, he deserves to get paid for his time.”
“When did you make this appointment for?”
“When you’re released from the hospital in a few weeks. You should feel privileged to see him. He’s going to confirm my diagnosis.” Dr. Jerk was giddy with pride that he had such a powerful connection.
“Wait a minute. I’m supposed to fly to his hospital, have Jim take time off and leave my three-year-old, and go halfway across the country to talk to a guy who you already know is going to confirm your diagnosis? I don’t call that opinion, I call that collusion. I’m not doing it. Anyway, I’ve already decided I’m not going to do the brain biopsy. Jim doesn’t want me to; it’s too inconclusive.”
“You’re making a mistake by not seeing Dr. Guru. He doesn’t consent to see just anybody.”
“Well, I don’t consent to see him. It’s too bad he won’t get the pleasure of meeting me.”
“You’re being an obstinate fool. I’m trying to help you.”
“Obstinate. That’s a new label for me, I already have denial and impulsive. I prefer determined, positive, and hopeful. I’ve got news for you: I want to have another baby, and I’ll be Rollerblading with Rory before too long.”
“Make no mistake, my dear. You really are in DENIAL.” He turns on his heel and leaves.
Just
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