Anybody else?

First of all, I feel the need to thank everybody for all of the amazing support given to me and my family during this adventure. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers, your calls and cards, your emails and blog comments, your cancer questions and stories, your delicious dinners and desserts, your hugs and kind words, your friendship and love. If you're gonna fight cancer, there's nothing like a superlative support group in your corner. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Now then, on finding myself in a waiting state between phases of treatment, I thought it was time for a few olio acts here on the blog. An olio act is like a musical number performed in front of the curtain to keep the audience engaged between acts in a theatrical show. There are several tales in this turbulant trip that have yet to be told. So let's start the music.

Story participants:

    Attending doctor , Dr. Anker.

    Resident, Dr. Chen.

    Medical student, Brian?

    Patient, Steve (that's me).

Story observer:

    Spouse, Carla.

I am meeting Dr. Anker for the first time to set up my radiation treatments. Carla is along for moral support, taking notes as needed. This being a university hospital, Dr. Anker introduces me to his resident, Dr. Chen, and some random medical student, Brian. Brian will wish he stayed home before this visit is over.

It is a small exam room occupied by five adults. Kinda crowded. After exchanging a few pleasantries and noting my medical history, Dr. Anker explains that he would now like to touch my tumor to determine its exact position for radiation. Would this be alright with me? Sure, I say. Come on in.

Dr. Anker finishes the digital rectal exam, and as I hear him removing his rubber glove he politely asks me if it would be alright if Dr. Chen could touch my tumor? Let's see... My pants and skivvies are down around my ankles and I am still leaning over the exam table. Sure, I say. Come on in.

Moments later, as Dr. Chen is removing his rubber glove, I hear Dr. Anker politely ask if it would be alright if Brian could touch my tumor? Let's see... We need good doctors in order to beat cancer and all good doctors were once students. Sure, I say. Come on in.

Poor Brian. He gloves up and determines to make a good go of it. I feel the difference immediately. His touch is both hesitant and heavy. What doctors Chen and Anker accomplish gracefully in mere seconds takes Brian about sixty. I find myself praying for him the whole time.

Finally, I hear Brian removing his rubber glove. This time Dr. Ankor hands me a box of tissues and invites me to get dressed as he politely turns his back. I see Carla out of the corner of my eye and wonder why she didn't get to touch my tumor.

Anybody else?