Click, Click

Click click, click click, click click.There arenightswhen this sound still echoes inmyheadas if to tauntme, a sound that Iwill never escapefrom. Itwasthesoundofmyi.v.pumpaseachdripclicked down the chamber into my intravenous line. The clicking that would continue as bag after bag was replaced during the 100 hospital days and many months spent in the infusion center. Some days, I felt the clicks even replaced my heartbeats. It is emblematic of the journey that began on May 20, 2011—the day I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia. Everymomentofmyinitial entry into theworldofoncology is ingrained in my memory: a bone marrow biopsy, the diagnosis. I told my doctor they had the wrong guy. But what followed was the placement of my catheter and thenmeeting myoncologist andher teamof residents. Lookingback, I realize just how much I had no clue what I was in for; although, in retrospect, I had no time to prepare for it anyway. Everything happened so quickly; it was like being in a tornado. Then, justasquickly, Ibecamean inpatient.Theclockhadthe short armon the 8 and the long armon the 12, andby the time I could actually comprehend thegravityof the situation, 12hours had passed. In that timemy life had been turned upside down. I started my “713 induction” regimen (it looked like orange Gatorade). I lost40poundsinthesubsequent26daysbecauseof the side effects—an inability to controlmy bowels, losing allmy hair, and vomiting hourly. I had to rely onnurses andmyparents for my activities of daily living, including showering, dressing, and eating. Here I was, young and in my prime, but instead of continuing a life I loved, I was fighting for my life. Still, I remember that as I lay in my hospital bed, exhausted and emaciated, there was one thing that I relied on, looked forward to. It was seeing my oncologist and her team. They listened tomyheart and lungs as anydoctordoing roundswould do, but they also gaveme the hope to keep fighting for the next day. Itwasonly15minutesaday,but in thosepreciousmoments, myanxietywasgoneanddistressdiminished; relaxationcameas the feeling that I was in the best hands eased mymind. To thisday, there isnotanotherhumanbeingon this earth from whom I would take guidance over my oncologist. She listened and considered my input, and she was honest with me even with challengingnews.Shemademefeelrespected,and, inturn, Itrusted her. Beyond my medical care, she cared about me outside of my treatment—she wanted to learn about my interests, dreams, and goals.Shewentoutofherwaytomakethingseasier,likethetimeshe foundicecreamsandwichesformelongafterthekitchenhadclosed. Whethersheknewitornot,thosemomentswerevitaltome.Fifteen minutes per day multiplied by roughly 100 days in the hospital is close to24hours,which iswhat shedevoted tomycare. It doesnot sound like a lot, but tome, its importancewas immeasurable. Everything in thehospital is somanipulatedandcalculated: howmuch fluid, whenmy vitals weremonitored, what I could eat, the room temperature; however, when my doctor would knockonmydoor andwalk intomy room, I felt human. Iwould stophearing the “clicks,”because Iwaswithmyoncologist. For 15minutesaday, Ino longer felt likeacar in forservice. Instead, I was a boy in a bed and a man with a soul. My experiences as a patient have allowed me to look at everything I do inmedical school through aunique lens.Mygoal is to remember the attributes ofmyoncologist as I ambeing trained. Each of my patients will not be my “AML patient”or my “patient with X disease,” but, rather, a person, with a family perhaps, or dreams and goals likemyself. Nomatter how stressed or tired and nomatterwhatmight be going on inmy life, I know firsthand how valuedthetimethatIamspendingwithmypatientscanbetothem. Iwill aim to seemyself in that hospital bedand rememberhowmy oncologist treatedme. Iwill give themmy full attention and effort. Forme,thepracticeofmedicineisaboutmakingacontribution to theworld.Myexperiencewith cancer has shownme, however, that contributions come in all sizes. Whether discovering an outcomethatcuressome,orhelpingeachandeverypatientoneat a time, all of it matters, and it matters monumentally. Some would guess that my abrupt and unwelcome entry into oncology might have deterred me from practicing in the field. Instead, it has fueled my passion for just that. It is an honor to have gone from the vulnerable, dependent patient to now being part of the team on whom the patient depends. Iamtheonemost investedinmycare.ChangesthatIwillmake on behalf of a patient will be lived with and dealt with as I once experienced.Exitingtheroomandtellingmypatienttocomeback in4weeks, Iwill rememberthat itcanfeel likeavery long interim. I have “walked the walk,” and I know that when I “talk the talk,” it will be with the knowledge that my decisions have effects on patients beyond what my fellowmedical students might realize. An oncologist’s opportunity to affect cancer patients’ lives certainly results from medical training, knowledge, and experience; however, compassion and consideration do leave an important footprint.Mytransition frompatient toperson to physician has begun, and my goal is to see that those oncehaunting clicks canevolve into the soundsof hopeandhealing.