Through These Eyes: The courageous struggle to find meaning in a life stressed with cancer — John Shaqi
Through These Eyes: The courageous struggle to find meaning in a life stressed with cancerIsaacson, Lauren Ann
Science
Through These Eyes: The courageous struggle to find meaning in a life stressed with cancer
Isaacson, Lauren Ann
Cancer -- Patients -- Biography; Isaacson, Lauren Ann, 1961-1986
Dr. Murrell was a man of few words, who wielded an aristocractic air
with the unimposing quality of a true gentleman. He appeared to own a
sense of inate calm which allowed him to divulge even the worst
verdicts with unruffled dignity and composure; he transmitted ease to
the waiting patients and relatives as if through a sort of osmosis and,
I'm sure, avoided many hysterical outbursts as a result.
As he methodically inspected my stomach region I found it extremely
difficult to refrain from laughter. Ticklish and quite unused to being
touched, his various pokes evoked embarrassing jolts of muscle spasms
as I tried, without success, to squelch my chuckles. When he had
finished, he announced that he wished the opinion of his associate
doctor and departed for several minutes. Arriving once again with Dr.
Errico, who then took a turn applying pressure to various points on my
sensitive stomach region, they asked whether any specific areas brought
about pain when touched. I replied that I had experienced none, and
they nodded in silence.
As the two doctors prepared to leave the room to privately confer the
meaning of my symptoms, Dr. Errico extended his arm to place a fatherly
pat on my shoulder. As he did so, I felt my spine turn to ice in an
unexplainable sensation of pure dread; it was as if his gesture
foretold doom and I recalled the persisting thought which had echoed in
my mind since the moment I discovered the lump. The news was not going
to be good; I knew it now.
Dr. Murrell returned to the room alone, seated himself before the desk,
then turned to face us. He was unable, as yet, to draw any
conclusions, but desired me to check into the hospital for tests as
soon as possible, and the preparations were made. I can no longer
remember how I felt when I departed that day from the office drear to
the bright flood of sunlight; I cried no tear, and spoke no words of
resentment or anger, for those I would have recalled. I knew only that
I had to discover the truth about that mystery which lurked behind a
mask of skin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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