The Doctors

Having actively avoided doctors except for social occasions believing that the part of the Hippocratic oath that says "First do no harm." isn't practiced with enough diligence, I am happy to relate that almost all the doctors attending to my care were nothing short of wonderful. Those few that weren't aren't worth mentioning.

When first I called my PCP, Dr. Gamponia, I was given a same day, after hours appointment after describing my symptoms over the phone. In spite of the late hour, her examination was thorough, she answered all my questions without telling me my own diagnosis was erroneous letting me learn the truth through the tests she promptly scheduled. It was well after the dinner hour when we left her office.

As I've previously written, Greg and I would see one another at least once a year at a mutual friend's birthday party. On these occasions, Mike and I enjoyed both he and his wife as they are quick-witted and very, very funny. Nonetheless, they could not be properly called friends. That changed once I asked Greg's assistance in determining whether or not I should go to the ER or phone my own doctor. From then I have been treated like family.

While I was hospitalized, Greg monitored my care, let my docs know I was a friend and chose an excellent consulting neurosurgeon. Each day he stopped by asking if Mike or I had questions or concerns as yet unanswered. The doctors who attending each let me know that Greg was asking about me each step of the way. His presence in the wings of my care allayed much of my distress.

Saturday morning, Dr. Newbaugh walked into my room with a smile and an extended hand, introducing himself as my in-house physician and partner in practice with Greg. Right away, I liked him. He allowed time for Mike to return to my room when I said that he was nearby and reachable by cell phone before he gave us a run down on my tumors and what actions would likely be taken.

"It's a surgical issue. You'll be likely considering going elsewhere for the surgery." he said. I heard the words, but dimly. I heard the words but not their meaning. He went on to describe the tumors as skull-based slow growing, probably for many years. The CT-scan showed edema around the area where the brain tissue was breached in the left temporal lobe area affecting speech and movement. That was what was causing my speech problems. He asked if I'd been having balance issues. Though I'd not recognized it as a balance issue, I had been tripping fairly often when on my morning walks and so reported. I'd blamed uneven sidewalks.

"This is a case of bad luck I'm sorry to say. There is nothing you did or didn't do that would have made any difference. It's just bad luck." he spoke with genuine regret. He explained; the steroids were reducing the swelling and the dilantin was an anti-seizure drug. Hunger and manic energy had already set in while my aphasia had significantly lessened in this short time. Because the risk of seizures, he restated I was not to drive. He had ordered additional tests including an MRI after which a neurosurgeon would see me. Another smile, and handshake and he was gone. Mike and I nodded our mutual approval of Dr. Newbaugh whom we saw once more before leaving the hospital.

Dr. Schmidt made comment about our friendship with Greg as he introduced himself to us on Sunday. He hadn't yet read the MRI so excused himself to do so. By this time, Mike and I were ready for final diagnosis and action plan. As we awaited his return, identified why Schmidt looked so familiar. We'd seen him often at the Clay Center for the symphony. We'd labeled him someone interesting, someone we'd like to meet. Casual and direct in his manner, Dr. Schmidt explained the risky nature of my tumors and recommended we seek out-of-state medical care. What I needed was a world-renowned neurosurgeon, Dr. Takanori Fukushima. He would make the referral for us and the surgery should be done as quickly as possible.

(to be continued)