Tag: melanoma

The Teacher.

Posted on by momilhem

Elated. Content. And thankful. Today was a good day. I walked in to a clinic room and I asked “so what do you do for a living?” and the answer was well I am a teacher. I usually pause. I have an immense rush into my heart as I remember when I was a child looking at my teacher in awe loving every minute of the knowledge they had to share with me. Never did I dream that I would be in a place to return that favor that they gave to me. I usually do a “Mo” Bow and say your student has come back to help you.

In the back scenes of my clinical practice, I am bombarded with students, residents and fellows. Each at a different point in their learning curve. I try to teach what is not written. The art of medicine. Today I showed one of them how important it is to forget the rules and humble themselves to understand who the real teacher is. Each human has a journey that they must face, alone. I have touched on the voice in our head that is unique to us. But if we share this journey with others then we are not alone. I watched today as one human spoke to another. New connections were made. I watched my student being engulfed by the journey they were learning from. What a pleasure it is to be a part of that creation. To see the minds of those who learn to grow. It makes me proud. And today I am joyful.

My day was filled with atoms racing in all directions having a  purpose and happy. I found myself dancing in rhythm  as I “bounced” between the rooms delivering good news, all around. It was a good day. We had excitement build up in our minds like 4 year olds when we made a discovery. It was infectious, chattering away, feeling accomplished and on top of the world. We could not even sit still. I got a lot of hugs today sharing in the relief of being told you will be ok. What can I say except, I love that ! Perhaps that day is coming when I can walk in and always say – Hey there,  you will be just fine. Today was a taste of what I see in our future.

My students watch me practice and I watch them grow. “To know” has been the treasure of the learner. I am teaching them to  wield the power of this knowledge to understand how to make gold from metal; it is priceless. I said today that what you learn my student you must teach others, share with everyone and make sure you know who taught you.

Each experience shared. Each Journey travelled. Each human that I meet.

What wonderful teachers you all are.

Mo

Confidential.

Posted on by momilhem

It is a very interesting place to be in the room with one of my patients. The medium of trust allows them to share their intimate secrets with me. It is tranquil and exceptionally vast. Where am I tonight you might wonder as you read this? I guess I’m with myself; in a place where I do not wish to share secrets that are given to me in confidence. They are mine to treasure, each time I think of one they are very personal. I try to write about them and find my hands guided away from sharing. What a difficult thing to truly share with you all. While driving home tonight, my friend said “where do you draw the line with a patient?”  It made me think of barriers perhaps we as physicians put up to protect ourselves from our patients’ feelings and emotions. Is there a line one draws when you are evoking their confidence to talk about things that they hold sacred?

I have often thought about my voice on a radio. After recording it, I always tend to say “that does not sound like me”. Our voices are unique to us; we all hear a different version in our heads of what people around us hear. It’s my confidential voice.  It is fascinating to me that I am the only one who hears it my way. It strengthens the thought of my own journey in life.  Personal.  I feel when I am with my patient that I am hearing that voice that is so unique to them that I cannot find the words to talk about it with anyone. I feel I connect with them inside as they navigate their decisions. I share my thoughts of the same situation they are in, it’s like I dared to go down their journey too. When they take chemotherapy or when they throw in the towel and say enough, I am with them. It is that voice that I try to find the frequency.  And I try to align it with how I would feel.

The question is, how do I find my way back to myself?

I guess in this dark night, that is exactly what I am doing. Finding my home again, finding me. It is cathartic that I could share in all the decisions I made with my patients today. It is a pleasure at the end of my visits with them that they stand up to shake my hand. I hope they see that I too am shaking theirs, in complete confidence that what we shared is sacred.

Mo

What have they got that I ain’t got?

Posted on by momilhem

Courage.

You can say that again. It has been playing like the movie in my mind, with the cowardly lion staring at Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.

Courage.

I have had an eventful weekend amongst my heroes, my heart is heavy. My tongue is tied. I’ll try to share why.  I saw so many. Perhaps I should call them butterflies. People bursting out of their cocoons. Families who had lost, people in the midst of their fight and those that had won. They all came out to stand up to cancer. They were smiling, they were positive, they believed and they made a difference. They hugged me and pulled at my heart. As I pulled on theirs. They reminded me of the battles I had lost, the ones that I am still fighting and the ones I had won. They said “Mo keep fighting the war”. Their eyes, tears and minds echo inside of me as I sit and write to you. They wanted our team to succeed. I am touched and humbled by my weekend experience.

I have stared into the eyes of my patients, wondering what it would be like to be in their shoes. I always say to them “I put myself in your shoes”. I’m really wondering now,  would I trade places? Would anyone? Here they are faced with an illness that could end their life and they say, “I want to fight”. I see the cowardly lion trembling uncontrollably, yet displaying the power to stand up to the Wicked Witch.

I have used many analogies to help my patients see cancer as I do. A good friend of mine on Sunday reminded me and said  “Mo you just know how to explain things to people- thanks for coming out”. I was looking at the golf course, the trees and the eager faces of people who took time out of their day to care.  “I think I have an empty brain that facilitates things”, I said back. I use simple things to show a point. Thanks for making that point meaningful to me. I stood before you and you all had the courage to ask me questions. I hoped I showed you that no question is “silly” and every question is the researcher in you showing its innate curiosity.

What have they got that I ain’t got? It is a loud echo.

Courage.

Mo

Courage Ride, Saturday, August 24, 2013, Kalona, Iowa.

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For more photos from the Courage Ride, please visit the Sarcoma Iowa Facebook page.

The Steve Yates Melanoma Awareness Golf Tournament, Sunday, August 25, 2013, Waterloo, Iowa.

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For more photos, visit our Melanoma Iowa Facebook page.

Nonsense.

Posted on by momilhem

“That is what the protocol says.”

I was annoyed. “So you want me to have the patient drive back 2 and a half hours because the protocol says…”

“I know it does not make sense and it is not logical but that is what the protocol says, Mo”.

This was going nowhere. Frustrated, I hung up the phone and I just wanted to break this rule that was nonsense. I was angry. Many things rushed through my mind at that moment. Too many rules I thought out loud. Clinic today was smooth except for this glitch. Got home and went to the gym, it helps me to sublimate and deal with situations that are not sensible.

I sometimes wonder how an idea starts and maybe a lot of you do too. Is it at the gym? Or in the shower? Or are “smart” people putting on their thinking caps? That would be a funny sight. How does one think in a world filled with rules and observations preset and pre-determined. How do you think “outside the box”? I have always thought of it as a black box that has edges that will all fall off. I have marveled at children and their innate curiosity always reacting to that which is new, how rules don’t seem to apply and how their curiosity leads to discovery and excitement. Can I access that part of me that was a child, so I am not biased by observations already made? Are all these rules necessary even when they overpower logic? How does an idea get trapped and shaped? How does it stay free and alive? How can we make our system flexible?

I always try to find a way to make it work. People who work around me know that “no” just does not cut it for me. The rule approaches me rigid. I flex it, find a hole in it, bend it and help my patient get to where they need to. I have watched other scientists do the same- that rare gleam in their eye as they see an opportunity to find a weakness in a theory or a concept. Glad these “thinkers” exist, like misfits they really help add spice to the mix.

I lost a close friend this weekend. She made me think outside the box. She made me bend cancer to fit her life. She made what I do sensible. Thank you….

Mo

Closure.

Posted on by momilhem

“I didn’t know I could talk to you” he said to me in the clinic today. We hugged and he sat down, “It happened so fast.” We were both fighting back some tears. “She was an amazing woman” I chimed, trying to find the right footing as we talked.

It was the end of my clinic and a family came to see me to find closure in the care of their loved one. This is a side of me that is very private and my voice is sharing this with you. My heart is not.  It is a rare event that I come full circle and have a chance to talk about someone who lived.

What is important to me in the closure of a patient who passes? I’ll share this intimate detail with you now.

When patients cross my path on their extraordinary journey, I deal with their cancer, their treatment and their ailments, I talk shop, science, but I never hear about the way they lived during this time. I never hear about what they did and what they really felt. I want to know that they embraced each day and that they did not let this beat them and that they fought for what they wanted. This was true for me today. I heard how she lived………………… “She hated that pill” and “the sun was all she wanted to do and went out despite you telling her not to” (my goodness, I laughed at that) ……… and we talked more………and I had closure. YEAH! My heart yelled. She LIVED. I always thought I would make the worst patient. I would never let an illness eat away at my life, and I would live despite what the “doctors” say.

“I feel better that I came and talked to you, Mo, I had no idea how to initiate this, I did not know it was even an option” he said to me, staring right at me, through me. I explained he was and always will be my family, and is welcome anytime. I have done this with many families. I guess I want them to know how it makes a difference to me and how it helps me heal too from the loss of a friend. “Thank you for taking the time” he told me, hugged me and left. Really? I believe I have to thank him for taking the time to come to me, to sit with me. One human to the next, is this so hard? What did he have to face? Memories of her treatment, bad news, decisions made……and he came anyway. “I was very anxious coming, I did not know what to expect.”

Perhaps our medical system should have a closure visit built into the system to allow physicians a chance to heal from wounds that sometimes make us appear indifferent or callous. Wisdom has softened my heart, and death has opened my compassion.

I never thought I would be writing like this, talking like this to all of you. When I first started blogging, I thought I couldn’t be myself and that I’d have to talk science and other stuff and be the “doctor”. I am discovering I am not able to do that. I picked Tuesday evening to write because it’s a clinic day for me and I am the closest to my patients when I am in clinic. I also realized how they make me feel.

Thank you, my friends.

Mo