There are instances in a person’s life that are unforgettable. Moments of clarity or focus that stand out like beacons in our memories. I gained several of these unforgettable moments as a patient over the past 18 months. At the age of 43 I discovered a large 26 cm mass in my abdomen. The initial imaging showed it was likely a sarcoma. Reading the CT report while I was working an ER shift was a crushing moment filled with doubt and disbelief and worry. I felt peace that things would be OK, but I did not know what the future would hold. Another moment came a couple of weeks later when my oncologist called me during my son’s soccer game to tell me that the pathology report on my biopsy showed a likely benign tumor. I felt such peace and relief knowing that there was a high chance that the tumor was likely not to be metastatic. It gave me hope as I endured the fatigue and nausea associated with the next six weeks of radiation therapy. The days leading up to the surgery were filled with a mix of concern and hope. Was it truly a huge benign tumor? Would I have to remove part of my colon, kidney, spleen, or part of my pancreas? Would the surgeons be able to fully remove the tumor without causing life altering changes to my body? Would I be able to live and help raise my children? It was with great trust and hope that I went to the operating room at the Huntsman Cancer Hospital and put my life in the hands of the surgical team and anesthesiologist. As I lay there on the cold OR table before starting the anesthetic I remember feeling profound peace as I accepted that whatever needed to happen would happen and I put my complete trust in the surgeons and anesthesiologist. It was a moment of release and acceptance that I will never forget. I was so thankful for the many years of training that my physicians had put in to learning their trade.
I remember waking up hours later asking the recovery nurse if my spleen had been removed and being told that all internal organs had thankfully been spared and the tumor had been fully removed. It felt like a miracle, but I couldn’t feel part of my left leg or extend my knee. That moment was such a mix of grogginess from anesthesia and relief from knowing my prayers had been answered. I found that my L4 nerve had been damaged due to the tumor location, and I could not bear weight on my left leg without using a walker. I did months of physical therapy, and I was so thankful for the miraculous recovery I was able to experience as the nerve healed. I was able to learn to walk with a cane and then eventually I could walk again without a cane, if I was careful. I was able to return to work and keep a robust schedule. My ability to walk fast and even run short distances slowly returned. About seven months after the surgery my family and I went camping in Yellowstone Park. I went on a run with my wife and I could actually run. I ran over two miles without complication. I could run again with no support and it felt amazing! That was a moment I will never forget. It’s been over a year since the surgery and I am still trying to run and exercise regularly. There are still changes to my body and I will probably always have to be careful with my leg, but I can do most anything I want to do physically, and I am still free of any residual tumor. I have been blessed with many moments of clarity and gratitude over the past year. I feel like life is a gift and I am so thankful for the moments that I get to live. I am thankful that I get to be a physician. I hope I can be worthy of the trust my patients place in me as I help guide them in their uncertain moments.
In medical training most physicians are conditioned to put patients before self and personal needs become secondary. We spend many of our healthiest prime years of life devoted to learning the complexities and art of medicine. Being a physician is still considered by many (me included) to be the greatest profession. The ability to be a calm reassuring voice in a storm is a gift to our patients. Each patient experience is unique, and physicians are there to craft answers to those unique situations. The ability to prevent, diagnose, and treat potentially life altering problems is a blessing to all of humanity. I have always felt that the privilege of being a physician is sacred. It is a true personal blessing to have the privilege to help others in such a unique way. For me, being a physician is as much a calling as a source of income. This heavy and powerful responsibility makes it tempting to avoid proper self-care. I hope that going forward I can learn to be more attentive to caring for myself and remembering that I cannot care for others unless I am healthy, both mentally and physically.
In a time when so many physicians suffer from burnout due to long work hours and a seemingly endless amount of documentation and regulations, it’s important to reflect on why we do what we do. I felt that I was likely to lose my ability to work as a physician. After my surgery when I felt so weak and disabled, I remember feeling profound feelings of gratitude for the physicians, nurses, and other health professionals who participated in my care. Certainly, work is needed to revise the regulatory and insurance issues that lead to so much clerical work for physicians. Physicians still matter, and the work we do makes a difference. We need to advocate to make our field enjoyable for those who will do this work in future generations. I don’t recommend going through huge personal medical problems to learn these lessons, but I am nevertheless very grateful for the insights I have gained though my experience. Like most physicians, I still get up every day and go through the daily grind of patient care and paperwork and phone calls at all hours of the night. I hope that my reinvigorated sense of gratitude can persist. I feel like my life and my health are a gift. I am thankful to be able to work as a physician, a member of the greatest profession.
Peter M. Crane, MD, FAAFP
