I mentioned recently ("Retirement" 8/22/21) that my beloved Oncologist Dr S is retiring (sorry to have such an unnatural, yet deserved venerating relationship with him). The moment is here, and he is gone. We had our final encounter, exchanged best wishes (for his upcoming research voyage, and my continued managed health), as I struggled to find the impossible words to acknowledge what he has meant for my life and my family. And then the baton was passed to the new Oncologist from his team who will be taking over my case.
For many obvious and subtle reasons, they will NOT be Dr S - how could they be? It is both futile and unfair to make any comparisons of the two. My faith in Dr S is unwavering, such that his recommendation of this new Maven of my Multiple Myeloma gives me a sense of comfort and ease. Yes, there will be differences between the two in their style and accessibility, but I am confident that the overall quality and credibility of my new healthcare provider will be a seamless continuation of my treatment. As the two walked out of the exam room and the door closed behind them, it all became clear to me.
Fate and good fortune brought us together. Dr S was the head of the department and had a limited case load. When I needed the "best Onc in the world," I got my wish. He caught my disease, arrested my renal failure, and charted my course toward a successful outcome of a well-managed maintenance regimen. My turn with him is over; I'm now empowered and informed enough to be a helpful partner in my ongoing care, and I will carry the best of Dr S with me toward the goal of an eventual cure (topic for another blog). It's not that I no longer need him, rather it's that I am now ready and able to move on without him (not like I have a choice). There will never be another Dr S - and that's ok.
PS: Just for the record, and a touch of irony, my new Oncologist is also a "Dr S" too - so as not to confuse me or you.
