Yesterday I came face-to-face with the man who gave my mom the news that would change all of our lives. He gave her the diagnosis, he gave her five years (if she was lucky, he said, but not likely at the rate she was “deteriorating”), he gave her the brutal reality of the disease and he handed it all over to her on a platter devoid of hope and compassion. He even took a social call in the middle of the appointment and went about his life while my parents stared at the floor where theirs lay in pieces. Since that day almost 6 years ago, I have harboured a special kind of distaste for that man.
I have thought about writing him a letter. I have pictured myself storming into his office, words flying. I have contemplated writing a review on those online rate-your-doctor sites. I tried to stuff him away so that he would disappear. He didn’t disappear and neither did my anger or my grief or my sorrow for what my parents had to have experienced sitting in his office.
So the Universe stepped in. It got me in his office, in the patient’s chair of his sterile clinic. It got me to face my demon – my own anger. Thankfully, after an extensive exam and detailed questions, it was determined there was no physical need for me to be there. But boy, was there ever an emotional one.
We talked about my mom and I needed to do that with him. She wasn’t just another sick person, my tears told him. She was my mom and I am what’s left. I nodded when he suggested, “It must have been so tough to watch her go through that terrible illness.” Your patients are people with families. Sometimes when they leave your office they have to tell their children they are very, very sick. I am the after-math. I saw that he understood that; his eyes were no longer just scanning my body for signs of a connective tissue disease. He could see the ripples of his words in my quivering chin as I blink, blink, blinked to stop the tears. “You are going to be fine,” he said without a hint of condescension. I know that because my mom told me that before she left.
I looked him in the eye as I stood to go. We shook hands, this man and I, this man who was the physical representation of my fury. I walked back out in to his waiting room where an elderly woman waited for the doctor’s time. There’s your next patient. Handle with care.

Me, Mom, and my brother - celebrating our birthdays one year after diagnosis.
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I am sharing this experience with you, dear Readers, because I want you to look at your own demons. What are they? Where are they? In whom are they housed? The next time you find yourself in a situation that evokes a strong emotion, ask yourself why you are there. Because there’s a reason. The Universe, in its helpful way, will put you in that seat. You might make it easier on yourself if you put yourself there first.
Tasi,
This picture you posted really reminded me of our childhood. I remember your mom’s gentle spirit and kindness. Every memory I have of her was her smiling in the kitchen. I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you during her illness. As an employee of the hospital where my dad recieved his care before his passing, I often come across the doctors who treated him. My experiences with them since then has been good. It’s hard to see them because it reminds me of my dad and his struggles, but they did treat him like a human being and with civility. I am not sure if it was because they worked with me or if they give that kind of care to every patient. I am hoping for the latter. Your blog reminds me of the way I should be treating the patients I see and their families. You would think because I’ve been on the other side I should know better but I think I separate myself in order to deal with the situation. Why are you so intent on making me a better person? It is so much more fun to be mean and self centred. Keep up the great work. Love you, K
Oh Kay – in a world where I’m not really sure people are actually laughing out loud when they say LOL, I have to say, I ACTUALLY LOL when I read your writing. First of all, your memories of my mom mean the world to me as they keep her here with us. Second of all, life brings people together when they need ’em most…and I need you now so thank you! And finally, when I have my heart set on something…WATCH OUT 🙂 Thanks for the comment, really – it made my day!
So powerful Taslim. Thank you for sharing this experience. I’m moved.
Thanks Rachel – and thanks for sharing this on your facebook page!
Hi Taslim,
Working in healthcare, I can relate to your story. I see it daily how patients become diagnoses and syndromes…and lose their identity. How families are rarely included in the whole process of healthcare and at times are left in the dark regarding treatments and important decisions. I am really glad you spoke up to your “demon”. In fact more people should but don’t. Doctors often forget the “caring” portion of healthcare and it is our duty as patients and healthcare workers to remind them of that. I am very proud of the way you handled yourself. I am sure that doctor went on the rest of the day a little more concious of how he deals with his patient. Good for you.
Thanks Marilyn – it happened in a different way than I imagined it. I didn’t want to point fingers and bring up his past behaviour or judge his manners. I just showed my emotion, shared the struggle we went through during her illness and demonstrated that, obviously, there are still struggles for those of us left behind. The words in italics in my post are the messages that my tears conveyed – beyond what was said, these were the messages that hung in the air. And yes, hopefully they will linger in his office. You know, I didn’t realize that by talking about this I would be connecting with other people in healthcare. Amazing what writing can do! Thanks for your comment.
I feel the need to make another comment here – to clarify that the demon I am referring to is actually my anger and not the doctor. Poor guy – his ears must have been burning all day today! But seriously, the anger I was harbouring probably had more to do with my mom’s illness and struggles than the one episode in his office. And I had to face that anger to help me move on. Because I had poured all that darkness into the vessel that is the doctor and felt justified doing so because of his behaviour, it was he I had to face to get past it.
And on that note, I am now going to turn to happy happy thoughts and draw the lucky winner of Dr. Susan Biali’s book – I’m off to random.org to do that now!
Wow Tas…
Thanks for sharing Tas. The universe does have a strange way of putting you in the driver seat with your demons. Bless.
Thank you Tabish – it’s a wonderful blessing, isn’t it?