Page 7 - Mecklenburg_Medicine_October-2016

Feature
Caregiver to Chemo Patient —
Gaining a New Perspective
By Lee McCracken, Contributing Writer
T he field of oncology takes a special breed of medical
professional. Caring for a patient with cancer involves
positivity (coupled with realism), stamina and tenacity.
After months, if not years, of treatment, oncologists and
nurses often are praised by their patients as being Earthly angels.
But what happens when the one wearing the white coat
unexpectedly becomes the patient? When the healer finds herself
hooked up to the chemo drip? Just over a year ago, Charlotte’s beloved
breast cancer surgeon Teresa Flippo-Morton, MD, died of cancer
(pancreatic) herself just 33 days after her diagnosis and being a patient
at Levine Cancer Institute.
When faced with their own vulnerability, healthcare professionals
gain a better understanding of their patients’ fears and frustrations. Such
is the new reality of Pat McKinney, RN, a former veteran cancer nurse
navigator with Novant Health.
Known for holding the hands of hundreds of cancer patients in the
Huntersville/Lake Norman community (most being women with breast
cancer), as well as volunteering countless hours in the spring for the
American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life Huntersville-Cornelius,
McKinney has traded her stethoscope for colorful scarves that adorn
her beautiful bald head.
Able to Receive
Over the summer, McKinney found herself in the vulnerable role of
patient after she felt a swollen lymph node under her clavicle. Quickly,
she made the round of appointments: blood tests, a biopsy, a PET scan, a
cancer diagnosis and a CT scan to measure the tumors in her left kidney.
“Everywhere I went, the nurses and technicians looked at me like,
‘Why are you here?’ I was totally out of my element at first, being the
one wearing the ID bracelet and lying on the table,” says McKinney.
Adept at compassionate caregiving, she is navigating the journey of
being on the other side. McKinney is learning to walk her talk as she
copes with the side effects of chemo — going in for IV fluids, taking
anti-nausea medicine and resting when her body needs it. During
infusions, other patients (who shake their heads that McKinney is
sitting next to them) are the recipients of her encouraging words and
warm smile.
She says, “Just after I was diagnosed, a church friend asked how she
could pray for me. That made me stop for a minute and think. Finally I
told her, ‘I want to be able to receive well.’” And she is doing just that — interviewed some 70 physician-patients. The book is a recount of their
whether it’s accepting meal deliveries, or leaning on the encouragement
and support of family and friends.
Yet, skilled at fixing broken bodies and healing sickness, many
medical professionals could win awards for their equally expert stoicism.
When personal health issues strike, they suppress their emotions and
struggle over their own physical limitations and, if the prognosis is dire,
their own mortality.
Paul Kalanithi, MD, describes this in “When Breath Becomes Air”
(Deckle Edge, January 2016), the story of a neurosurgeon-in-training
coping with a terminal lung cancer diagnosis. He died in March 2015,
while working on the book. Consider these poignant words: “I began to
realize that coming face to face with my own mortality, in a sense, had
changed nothing and everything. … Who would I be, going forward,
and for how long?”
Lessons From the Other Side
While the daily practice of continuously caring for others may make
it difficult to switch roles, doctors and nurses can grow personally and
professionally by experiencing both sides of health care. Suffering can
lead toward more mutual, compassionate connection with patients.
Kate Granger, MD, wrote about her five years battling a soft tissue
sarcoma. She died this past July at the young age of 34. While still
able, she worked as a geriatrician in the United Kingdom and began
campaigning for better bedside care, specifically for doctors to
introduce themselves to patients. Before her death earlier this year, she
received a special award from the the BMJ honoring her “Hello, my
name is” campaign.
“If being ill has taught me anything about being a doctor, it is the
importance of seeing a patient as a person and not merely a condition
or disease in a hospital bed,” says Granger in a 2013 blog post
(drkategranger.wordpress.com).
There are other enlightening physician-turned-author memoirs in the
marketplace that tell the story of nervously waiting in an open-to-the-
front paper gown for test results. When faced with a health crisis, these
doctors write what patients already know — that being sick stinks,
medicine often has strong side effects and healing seems to take forever.
And through it all, patients often feel invisible and unheard.
This is the story of Duke University School of Medicine graduate
and Harvard-affiliated surgeon Eben Alexander, MD, who wrote
“Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife” (Simon
& Schuster, October 2012). In it, Dr. Alexander describes the battle
between his scientific-trained mind and his grasping-for-proof Christian
faith. He writes, “It took me months to come to terms with what
happened to me. Not just the medical impossibility … but — more
important — the things that happened during that time.”
Robert Klitzman, MD, writes that crossing the border from
provider to patient taught him how much he did not know. Klitzman,
a psychiatrist, wrote “When Doctors Become Patients” (Oxford
University Press, 2007) after he overcame a brief illness and
reactions and roller-coaster emotions.
“I don’t ask, ‘Why me?’” says McKinney. “I’m depending on the
knowledge I have, but I realize the outcome is not in my control. The
support of my family, friends and faith are my lifeline.”
Mecklenburg Medicine • October 2016 | 7