Elana Miller, a psychiatrist who works in UCLA hospital, discovered that she had a rare form of cancer after she felt that “something wasn’t right”.
Miller, who immediately had to undergo a range of treatments, discovered that not only did she have many people to support her, there were many who loved her dearly.
Below is an extract from her blog, you can read the full post here.
Love is when a week ago I go to the ER at UCLA, where I work, for a cough and feeling that “something isn’t right,” and even though my complaints are mild, I’m brought right in and treated respectfully.
Love is when the chest X-ray comes back with some abnormal findings, and the ER attending attentively points out the fuzzy mass in my chest and the collections of fluid around my lungs. “It could be nothing,” he says, “but we need to get a CT scan right now.”
Love is when the CT scan comes back, and the attending carefully, gently, sits down on the gurney next to me and asks if I would like to read it with him. He says he’s not a radiologist, but knows I would want the results as soon as possible.
He points out the fluid collections (called pleural effusions) and a few enlarged lymph nodes. Then he points out a large mass in my anterior chest, measuring 18 x 11 x 7 centimeters.
I ask him, “This is bad, right? It’s lymphoma, isn’t it?” He says he can’t tell me for sure — that I will need a biopsy ASAP. I start to cry. I tell him this was not what I expected when I came to the ER. He asks me if there’s anyone I need to call, and I tell him my cell phone doesn’t have reception. He gives me his phone to use.
Love is when my friend Marya comes to the ER to be with me then share some tea at Starbucks when I’m discharged, even though it’s midnight and she’s an anesthesiology resident who probably had to be up at 6 a.m. the next day.
Love is when I go home and wake up the middle of the night with blood curdling, searing pain in my arm, and panicked that the tumor is occluding a blood vessel or nerve, yell to my boyfriend to call 911. I hear him sobbing on the phone and tell him to stop because it’s too hard for me to see him so afraid. He yells out, “I can’t lose you!”
Hat tip to the Huffington Post for this one.
