"I Am A Doctor!"

“I Am A Doctor!” spoken with true authority that momentarily confused me as it was coming from our cable service technician last Friday at the beginning of a visit to clear up our perpetual TV and internet problem. (Does anyone not have a perpetual cable problem?) The odd thing about this statement, besides the obvious, was that it came just after he pronounced, “I don’t want you too close to me.”

Apparently he believed he was the “Cable Doctor,” and he also thought I would spit on him and infect him with my disease. He wasn’t the most charming of people. When Diane opened the front door at the top of the stoop in answer to his knocking on the gate under the stoop, he barked: “why does it say basement?” (On the Time Warner Cable account – who knows?!) Then he said, “You don’t have dogs!?” She reassured him we didn't and he entered, only to be confronted by a stooped, swollen headed, man who breathed through a hole in his neck and was dressed like a samurai on holiday. To further his unease, I started talking to him – apologizing for my terrible diction and unintelligible voice (an unfortunate and unintended result of my cancer.) When he responded, “ why doesn’t she interpret?” I naturally started to don my ‘kill the technician’ armor, preparing for a loud but unintelligible assault on the jerk.

Diane realized that I was about to sink our chances of ever again receiving my daily salve, the BBC America channel, and hastily cautioned me that “now wasn’t the time.” I disagreed and by nods of the head and hand gestures we commenced to argue, which luckily I lost. Diane talked with the tech, listening to his fear of contagion, fear of my spitting on him, and correcting him about my medical condition and my ability to spit. The contrite tech then confessed that two of his close relatives had died from cancer and apologized to both of us. I accepted his apology instead of lopping of his head and, of course Diane was right, and he redoubled his efforts at perfecting our service going above and beyond.

How does one deal with someone whose appearance has changed from the dashingly handsome, ok I’m taking some poetic license, to totally disfigured and, one might say, grotesque. We’ve been trained by movies and TV to worship perfection. After all the bad guy is always either bald, short, limps, is missing an eye, scarred or has some other abnormality to distinguish him from ‘us’ the perfect audience. My close friend recently told me he was “shocked, I tell you, shocked,” by my appearance when he saw me again after 6 months. I’m shocked sometimes too.

It’s as much a learning curve for me as for others. I am not sure how people will take me: whether I’d make them uncomfortable, whether they would be able to overlook the changes and look for the person who still inhabits this misshapen head. I have to talk myself into going out now. A little pep talk reassures me that, whatever others may think, I must not quit without trying. My difficult speech has similarly influenced my choices – I tend not to answer the phone and am now a listener in group settings, only lobbing in a few bon mots every so often, and then re-lobbing them until people understand. My timing is truly unique. To combat the verbal steamrollering of members of my family I raise my hand before speaking. Quite humiliating, sort of, but very effective!

What do I want people to do? I want everyone to feel comfortable around my appearance. Don’t worry that you have to address my illness in a compassionate way, or at all. Just say what you want when you want. I’ll let you know if you offend, or if I need something. What I enjoy most is watching others enjoy themselves. My friend Steve said “well, you’ve got that portly Asian look down now,” and that was nice, funny and quite off the cuff. It made me feel that I could relax and not worry that the conversation was going to slide into the Grand Canyon of medical awkwardness. My neighbor’s 3-year-old daughter treats me just like everyone else, someone to flirt with! So if you see a slightly hobbled, melon headed, man wearing a hat, walking with a stick towards you just say, “hi, it’s a great day! Isn’t it?” And I’ll say, “yep, it’s a great day!” and feel it too.