TWELVE MINUTES

I scheduled the appointment with the oncologist, and was told to have the hospital send my medical records. Instead I had them sent directly to me, and then made copies for the oncologist. Knowledge is empowering. I’ve been a medical editor for years with a specialty in oncology, particularly breast cancer, so I understand just about everything that's in here. My pathology report wasn’t the first thing I looked for.

Like a blood hound, I hunted down that psychiatric consult.

It took place at my bedside. There was quite a flow of visitor traffic swishing by my half closed curtain; certainly not conducive to any kind of privacy.

I remember when he was inquiring about Family and Social History, the loud bustling from across the room suddenly became hushed comments, and the TV volume was lowered. I took notice and avoided intimate details of my tragic life. I smiled through his intrusive questions with grace and dignity. My Mental Status Exam was thoroughly intact, including insight and judgment.

The entire consult was over in about twelve minutes.

Finally. Here's what I was looking for: The Impression.

“This patient’s history is extraordinarily sad...a lifetime of trauma, a number of losses. She is at risk… and I would encourage that she engage in therapy as much as possible.”



Familiar, (like I've never heard that before?) but only after many months of cognitive therapy planted firmly on a foundation of trust.


What makes this psychiatrist so unique is that in just twelve minutes, he got it. He really got it. You have to admit, I spun this guy around pretty good and blindfolded him to the details of my pathetic life...and he still managed to pin the tail on the donkey. Such precision deserves respect.


Bravo, Dr. Gallo.


Now, where is that pathology report?