I spent my entire childhood trusting that my parents knew all the answers and could conquer any problem or obstacle thrown their way. Of course I eventually realized there were situations, where their magical wand couldn’t be waved and instantly solve everything –like a broken bone, or worse, a broken heart. Although I finally came to this realization with my parents, I have saved up these unrealistic expectations for another group of people: doctors. Regardless of the situation, I expect them to have all the answers, to know all the details, and to be able to wave that magic wand.
Finding out that the man in the white coat across the table from you doesn’t know much more than what you have dug up via a quick Google search is a scary realization. One that’s quite hard to swallow when actual lives are at stake. Of course he was apt to rattle of historical stats and averages, and throw out various hypothetical scenarios. But...he didn’t have the answers. And worst of all, he didn’t even pretend to.
I think we both would have liked a little sugar coating. I knew full well that oncologists, who stare death in the face day in and day out, aren’t the most feel-good people around, however, I did hope for some more certainty, some more conviction in his answers. But he was only being honest, only telling us what he knew for certain, and openly admitting what he, and the general medical community, didn’t fully understand yet. And so, my naïve assumptions came crashing down yet again.
I light of this mess I am amazed every day by C.’s strength. I can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to have your entire life flipped upside-down over night, yet he is handling it with his usual great sense of humour and humility.
