A letter to … my breast surgeon

The letter you always wanted to write
  
  


I was diagnosed after a routine mammogram, when I was told there was a very small change from the previous year's mammogram, but we all thought it was probably nothing to worry about. The diagnosis came as a bolt from the blue – this was the fourth time I had heard the words "you have cancer", but it was just as hard as the first three times. Though the tumour was very small, it would necessitate a mastectomy; my body wouldn't take any more chemotherapy, and this was the best chance of a full recovery.

You were not my original surgeon; he was much older and a professor, and he came highly recommended. Sitting through his consultation was like being in the eye of a storm, with all the experts whirling around me deciding on the best course of action. Then quietly, calmly and without warning, the specialist breast nurse suggested I meet you – you could offer a different view on my condition and possibly an alternative kind of surgery. You were an expert in your field and you were – this is confirmed by everybody I have met since – lovely.

Carried away by the heat of the moment, I decided to meet you – after all, what could I lose? There had to be an alternative to losing a breast, and I hoped you might offer it. On meeting you, I knew I had made the right choice – you made me feel part of the debate about my health, you listened to my thoughts and fears and you answered them with the knowledge of a professional and with empathy. You had utter faith in your abilities, and from that first moment I trusted you implicitly.

In agreeing to take my case, you took on a huge risk – the previous cancer treatment through radiation had damaged my skin, meaning that healing might be a problem, which is why the first surgeon wanted to offer a mastectomy with reconstruction a year or two later. Both you and I thought that, because of the risk of poor healing, it was better to do the reconstruction immediately rather than let healing take place and then reoperate on scar tissue, and for this suggestion the professor took you to task.

It is only now that I understand you had to endure full-blown rows in support of me, and for that I am truly grateful.

Your ability to reassure me and explain the situation, all in a second language – I believe you are Latvian – was, and is, truly inspirational. You have this ability to explain quite complex medical terms in a way that is understandable without over-simplifying or dumbing down.

You never seem to have an off day, and nothing seems to shock you. And you always take the time to explain everything to my husband and daughter. My daughter has been party to some horrific moments during my treatment, but you always treated her with the same kindness you showed me, and she is now as impressed with you as I am.

Altogether you and I have undergone three surgical procedures, one of which you even let me watch. And we have one more to go, which I am dreading, not because of the procedure itself, but because it signifies the end of your time as my surgeon.

You have offered me and my family support during the darkest hours, given me confidence with my new shape, and for that, and taking the risk in the first place, I just want to say thank you. Anonymous

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