What follows isn’t a criticism of local doctors. I’ve met most and believe them to be compassionate health care facilitators. I’m sure they don’t resemble the scenarios below.
But, I have to wonder if, in order to become a specialist, doctors have to include an insensitivity course in their studies.
Back in 2005 when my 91-year-old mother was dying, her internist kept on telling her she wouldn’t make it to Christmas.
Low and behold, she was there for a check up just a few days before the big day and teased the  doctor that Christmas was coming and she was still here.
How any human should respond to that would be something along the lines of “Winnie, you proved me wrong and I’m proud of you.”
Not this guy. As I discovered later, instead what he said was “Well, Winnie enjoy this one because it will be your last.” My Mom died Christmas Eve.
Now I have an older brother who was diagnosed with stomach cancer just around Christmas. Unfortunately, they’ve found a second tumour and he has to have his entire stomach removed.
He’s been sitting in Orillia waiting for doctors to arrange the dangerous procedure in Toronto for almost two weeks. As he gathers his courage for the challenge ahead, he’s building up his confidence that everything will be OK.
He made the mistake of telling a specialist that the sooner he can get through this the sooner he can start his road to recovery.
The doctor more or less replied to him not to get his hopes up as the survival rate is not very good for this type of cancer.
To these types of doctors their patients aren’t mothers, or brothers, or fathers or sons, they’re a number – and something’s wrong with that.
They should help you get better, not give up.