Tag: Sarcoma

A confession to a friend

Posted on by momilhem

Dear Hannah,

Where does one start to talk to you? I guess simply saying happy birthday might be the easiest place. Last week Iowa read about you and it was refreshing to see how they were saying we miss you.

I remember when I first met you; I kicked your family out of the room so you and I could talk alone. Something tells me you liked that, and you felt I wanted you to tell me what you wanted from me as your physician. I acknowledged your adulthood and maturity. You had grown too fast while facing your cancer. That day we formed our bond of trust. I am honored to know that your family shared with me that you valued what I had to say. I felt very deeply about you and I was hurt badly the day you left us.

I read Molly’s blog with a deep admiration of her courage and how she wanted to grow.   I mustered up the courage to talk to you in a letter sharing my thoughts that have needed to come out. It is my way of closure. You stretched my heart to a place it had never been, your search for hope in me made me realize how we believed in each other. Knowledge of things sometimes makes it harder to watch what actually happens. I confess that I struggled to tell you in part due to how I felt. Your amazing spirit, the love of your family gave me the strength to do so.

I remember the love around you. The fear, the kindness and the respect. I remember your quiet demeanor.  On the day I knew it would happen, I stood silently beside your bed. I fought back my tears as I watched your shallow breaths. I sent you a million prayers in my heart, my eyes talked to you as I stood there in my own language and I said goodbye. Something I have done to so many who have allowed me the privilege of being a part of it.  

Perhaps I am realizing now that I can talk to you every day. Through those who love you and care.  

Dear Hannah with love from Mo.

 

Readers Asked.

Posted on by momilhem

Instead of doing my usual blog post this week, I thought I’d change things up by answering some reader questions that have come through Melanoma Iowa (Facebook), Sarcoma Iowa (Facebook), @MelanomaIowa, @SarcomaIowa and my LinkedIn page. A new page will be added to my blog called “Readers Asked” that will include your questions and my answers. Here’s the first of many more “Readers Asked” blog posts.

Readers Asked:

How did you become interested in treating cancers, specifically melanoma and sarcoma? Why the focus on these two cancers?

I decided to be a doctor at the age of 12. It was a personal experience for me that started after I had gotten stitches from falling down. During my medical schooling I was inspired by hematology the study of blood disorders and became fascinated with the cellular make up of this viscous substance. My curiosity of blood drove me to a career in cancer. During my 3-years of lab work I was asked to do sarcoma as it was the clinic that people feared. It opened my eyes to a whole new world that I found mirrored what I was seeing in the laboratory. Blood and sarcomas came from the same stem cell: mesenchymal stem cells. I would say sarcoma became more attractive as it encompassed such a variety of different types (150+ subtypes).

Why melanoma? The science behind it is riveting, it is smart and relentless; it grew on me and has made me very motivated to “figure it out”.

How do you have the energy to keep up with the emotions and science that an oncologist has to endure?

I think I am very passionate about what I see in cancer and its abilities scientifically. It’s the first cell to cheat death. The science is maddening and absolutely beautiful. My patients make me “bounce” and because of that I have grown more compassionate and it helps me endure.

Have you ever wanted to give up your job and find a more peaceful life without the stress of being a doctor that deals with cancer and all of the terrible outcomes that come with it?

Absolutely. Many times. My wife would say I am “attention-seeking” when I tell her I wish I was a garbage man, I really do. It’s a noble job that helps humanity clean up its mess but a shower fixes everything at the end of the day and I do not carry so much in my heart. What has transpired is I have discovered that because of what I know now I have a responsibility to help those around me, it is hard for me to turn my back on all the knowledge I have acquired and my ability to deliver excellent care.

How do you find work-life balance? What’s a day in your life?

Ah yes, this one perhaps I will blog about – thanks for asking this. Not easy. I do thank my wife for being ground zero to come home to. It’s why perhaps I married a psychiatrist. 

Can you give any ideas or suggestions on how the families of those with Melanoma can help support and say the right things to their loved ones fighting this disease?

I have learned that the best ideas come from you. Those in the battle, if only doctors would take the time to listen to their patients’ struggles. You are in the best position to offer the advice for other families who can learn from what your own experience has taught you. I often connect patients together to let them talk to each other. I really do not know what chemotherapy feels like or what a side-effect is. I counsel then connect. Tell me of your experience; it likely was the right one for the person you helped in their battle against this disease.

Do you have something you want to ask me? Email my assistant at julianna-kennedy@uiowa.edu with your question and I’ll add it to my next “Readers Asked” blog post.

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.