By Joel A. Moskowitz, M D, FAPA, FAAP (retired)

The news is distressing for all of us.  Thank you for asking 'how can I help?'  

To the extent that I have, I believe, done my homework, the help I require will come from my physicians and the nurses. Even before I became a medical columnist for a weekly newspaper, I developed the skill of obtaining the best thinking about treatment in behalf of friends, family, patients, and other physicians.  

With myself as the patient, I researched the useful literature, made contact with leading surgical authorities in the world class medical centers e.g. Sloan Kettering Memorial Hospital, Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital, The Mount Sinai Hospital, St. John's Medical Center, UCSD, etc.  

It was heartening to have the kind, courteous time of these physicians.  Reassured that were I Bill Gates or the King of Saudi Arabia, I would get no better information, I felt confident of the
course I must pursue.

What do I need?  Emotionally, it is comforting to know that my wife is being given the assistance, which she will need to (a) be my advocate (b) keep things going till I can get going by her side.  Our 40 year marriage partnership is a two-person activity.

I have found, sadly, that some people upon learning of my serious problem, react inappropriately.  Perhaps out of their own fears.  They ask personal questions; demanding to know the medical details.  They think they justify their actions with phrases as "just curious".  This is offensive.  Thankfully, thus far, I have not been the recipient of 'advices' of what the 'best' treatment, doctor, hospital is.  Nor have I been the target of blaming that had I led a different kind of life, had another dietary practice, took the right life steps this wouldn't have happened.

Attacking and/or interrogating inquiry under the guise of concern is not only anti-therapeutic but also alienating.  It is in my nature to attempt to see the humor in almost every situation.  A quip, a pun, a clever twist gives me satisfaction and usually brings a smile to  others.  There is
some believable evidence that humor; a positive attitude can be healthful. If so, I have a long experience with acerbic wit.

When my surgeon's staff indicated that the first opportunity to schedule the operation would be about two weeks away, I thought couldn't he rent a hotel room and get it done?  I had actually utilized hotel room treatment for some of my more famous patients who wanted anonymity.  True, I did it as a psychiatrist and surgery would be another thing.  But it was kind of fun to think of the logistics.

In this interim two weeks, I chose not to pursue the 'findings of the CEA or the CT scan of the abdomen'.   Enough that my doctors will know and act accordingly.  When friends or family are confrontational demanding to know exactly what has been found, I feel abandoned and unhealed.  What is the need of these people to force me to face the facts?  Will knowing these
results enable me to speed up the procedure?  To take positive steps to rid myself of this onerous condition.  I already am!  I don't need to spend the two weeks pre-op obsessing about what I will, soon enough, be told and with which I will be obliged to deal.

As a (retired) psychiatrist, it is my knee jerk reaction to consider the patient's feelings and needs first.  It is difficult for me to remind myself that I am the primary patient here.  Gratuitous remarks and idle curiosity are unacceptable.   Next time someone asks about the diagnosis, I hope that I can react, "And how will knowing the precise histologic type enable you to help me..doctor?"

A modicum of levity is my antidote to stress.   A good friend asked, "What is this about April 19th (the date for my surgery).  My instant quip, "I had nothing else to do."  We both laughed.  It was refreshing.  There is a need to relieve the tension of my bottled up worries.  Neither of us is
disrespectful of the seriousness of my situation.  This friend has troubles of his own.  To the degree that we can look at the ridiculous, we can smile and yet share release.  He inquired further and I volunteered that I intended to sneak out of the OR.   Richard's unconscious response
was, "Yeah and they will say: 'where did the ass hole go.'"   "Exactly", said I.   A millisecond appreciation of the double meaning, it is an operation for colon cancer, enabled both of us to laugh.

I am worried but I don't know of any instance where worry remedied anything and I am after the big remedy.