Oncologist: Take 2

I felt like I was walking into a magical fairy land at my first appointment with my new oncologist - and not just because it still had that new office smell. For the first time in 50+ rounds of chemo, I was going to walk out without that damn pump.

I can't believe I spent the past year letting a doctor discourage me from going on the pill form of chemo. I can't believe that opinionated, well-read and highly-in-control ME didn't push the issue more. What doctor thinks it's better to send a mother of young children home with her port accessed and a pump, when she could get the same effect from a pill? It will forever taint my opi$nions on what his ultim$ate motivati$on was for kee$ping me on the p$ump.  I'll just add it to the list of questionable things, and close the door on my time with him.

I sat down in my private infusion area for a quick dose of Avastin, and immediately hit it off with my infusion nurse. She played 20 Questions with me, and without going into incriminating detail, confirmed and validated my choice to move on to a new doctor. Let's just say I'm not the first patient in recent months to defect with the same list of complaints. This added to my internal smile, because I knew I was where I was suppose to be. Gone was that unsettled dread.

A long way from my humble beginnings in a 50+ chair open infusion room. Now I sit in my private throne room.
I'm back under the care of what feels like a team. I no longer see a doctor lording over his revolving group minions, but a doctor trusting and relying on a group of nurses and pharmacists to take care of me. Onward and upward, kids.

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