Mum and I pleaded with the surgeon. He came highly recommended, a well regarded specialist in colon and rectal surgery, who even operated on a former president. Earlier this week the same surgeon operated on mum's brother to remove a lump in his colon.
Mum waited almost two weeks to be seen by this surgeon, and she was not easily going to give up.
The surgeon explained, confirming the oncologist's diagnosis, that the cancer had spread to the duodenum and was blocking food from leaving the stomach and entering the small intestines. The vomiting is a "naturally" (it's far from natural... But it's what happens when there's a severe blockage.) reflex of the stomach to eject everything out the way it came in; through the mouth thus. It's very serious, and the doctor said it must be operated on. Either to remove the blockage, or as is very likely the case, to put in a bypass duct to redirect the flow of flood past the tumour.
At least we knew and confirmed the cause of the vomiting, even though it was very hard and difficult news to... (literally, pun intended, if it's not too crude...) digest.
Then came the bad news.
"You can go see the surgeon who operates on you before. I have too many patients..." the surgeon said, referring to the surgeon who performed the operation to remove the original colon cancer back in May 2006, on Mother's Day of all days. Mum's face turned when she heard that the surgeon did not want to treat her. She looked so small and sad slumped away in the chair, even smaller and sadder now that she lost so much weight...
But mum has not seen that surgeon for almost six years, on account of his poor attitude and lack of compassion toward her. Mum was assigned to him by the ER ward after a routine checkup (arranged by my dad, who pushed mum to get checked...) revealed the Stage III tumour there. She did not choose him, and did not look around for a surgeon she was confident with or trusted (which is often done here... Patients can choose and pick their doctors). On a return visit after the surgery, mum complained that she was feeling very tired and drained of all energy. That surgeon replied: "Tired?! Can civil servants ever be as tired as doctors?" No need to explain why mum never went back to see him.
Mum narrated the experience to the new colo-rectal surgeon, who is the head of the department at the hospital and well respected. He was unmoved for a while, and kept on saying he simply had too many patients to deal with, and that he was simply overwhelmed with work. But mum and I persisted and tried to persuade him to change his mind. For a while, mum just sat there, and it was a tense moment, and I was half expecting, half fearing the surgeon would throw us out of his consultation room. I felt like crying.
The surgeon sat there and was quiet as mum continued to plead her case. "I've not been able to eat for three weeks, and I've waited so long to see you." The surgeon said he could not take her, for he would not be there the following week to assess mum's case, and that this would endanger mum's health. But mum pleaded more, and my aunt (who was with us, and whose husband was operated by the surgeon a few days earlier...) added a few words too. "Please doctor, we know you a good doctor, please don't refuse us..."
But something moved the surgeon eventually. When he heard mum's complaint about his colleague he finally said that there are some doctors who will only take "good patients", ie patients who have a good chance of recovery and surviving. He never mentioned mum's surgeon six years ago by name, but from his words and tone, and from the way he was forcing a smile, it was as if he was implying his colleague was one of these doctors.
Eventually, after listening to us for almost ten minutes, the surgeon finally said: "You're really willing to wait? I won't be able to do anything until the week after." The surgeon was somehow moved, and despite his initial resistance to taking the case, he relented and said he could make time and make sure a bed is freed up for mum.
And mum quickly agreed to wait. There was a look of relief on her face, as if half her worries have gone.
"You can go to ER and get some care and treatment before the surgery. Or you can go home till we call you." the nurse told us. Mum chose, of course, the latter. Home meant better sleep quality, better comfort, less noise, even if mum has not been able to sleep much and any good anywhere...
We returned home, i wondered how long it would be before we were called in, and how long it would be before mum receives some kind of treatment.
But at least we have some hope yet.
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