Routine
There's nothing to worry about in these cases, it's routine.
Do you smoke?
No.
Then there's nothing to worry about.
Do you have any symptoms?
No.
Then there's nothing to worry about.
If they had bothered to read his chart, they would have learned that five years ago at a different hospital in a different state, he'd had another routine procedure to remove a growth. He didn't smoke then, either. He didn't have any symptoms then, either. It's routine, they told him, we don't expect it's anything to be concerned about. We'll call you if we find anything abnormal. He didn't want anything to be concerned about, and was relieved when they didn't call.
But they were wrong. It was cancer. Three years later, he discovered that the people who told him they would call if there was a problem had dropped the ball and hadn't followed up with him. They're sorry they didn't contact him, but it was a routine procedure and they removed it all, there's nothing to worry about. Are they kidding? Nothing to worry about? Who's not worried to find they had a cancerous growth removed?
If they had bothered to read his chart, they would have seen that his younger brother has cancer.
These people he's trusted with his life don't routinely learn about the people they're trying to heal. They don't routinely read the patient's medical file or talk to their patient to learn their personal and family history. They have the nerve to glibly say that there's nothing to worry about, this is a routine procedure. But how do they know if they don't know their patient?
Now, five years later, they unexpectedly find another growth during a routine procedure. The doctor tells him to come back and have it removed by someone else, it's not his specialty. He tries for months to have it removed. He makes an appointment. They cancel it. The surgeon has to leave and won't be available. He makes another appointment. They cancel it. The surgeon has to leave again. Is there only one surgeon who can remove this growth?
Meanwhile, his brother dies.
He makes another appointment. It's not a good day for his wife or for him, but he keeps it for fear it will take even longer to get another appointment.
The anesthesiologist tells her the growth they removed was surprisingly large, but there's nothing to worry about. It's routine. They got it all.
His baby brother died two weeks ago.
Well, that changes everything.
You think? But there's nothing to worry about, right?
They don't get it. It's not routine to find a growth in your body that needs to be removed and for which you exhibit no symptoms. It's not routine for it be cancer. It's not routine for your younger brother to battle cancer for most of his adult life and to die before he reaches 40. It's not routine to find another growth in your body that needs to be removed and for which you exhibit no symptoms.
We'll call you if we find anything unusual.
Yeah, right. I'll call you next week to find out the results. It's routine.
Do you smoke?
No.
Then there's nothing to worry about.
Do you have any symptoms?
No.
Then there's nothing to worry about.
If they had bothered to read his chart, they would have learned that five years ago at a different hospital in a different state, he'd had another routine procedure to remove a growth. He didn't smoke then, either. He didn't have any symptoms then, either. It's routine, they told him, we don't expect it's anything to be concerned about. We'll call you if we find anything abnormal. He didn't want anything to be concerned about, and was relieved when they didn't call.
But they were wrong. It was cancer. Three years later, he discovered that the people who told him they would call if there was a problem had dropped the ball and hadn't followed up with him. They're sorry they didn't contact him, but it was a routine procedure and they removed it all, there's nothing to worry about. Are they kidding? Nothing to worry about? Who's not worried to find they had a cancerous growth removed?
If they had bothered to read his chart, they would have seen that his younger brother has cancer.
These people he's trusted with his life don't routinely learn about the people they're trying to heal. They don't routinely read the patient's medical file or talk to their patient to learn their personal and family history. They have the nerve to glibly say that there's nothing to worry about, this is a routine procedure. But how do they know if they don't know their patient?
Now, five years later, they unexpectedly find another growth during a routine procedure. The doctor tells him to come back and have it removed by someone else, it's not his specialty. He tries for months to have it removed. He makes an appointment. They cancel it. The surgeon has to leave and won't be available. He makes another appointment. They cancel it. The surgeon has to leave again. Is there only one surgeon who can remove this growth?
Meanwhile, his brother dies.
He makes another appointment. It's not a good day for his wife or for him, but he keeps it for fear it will take even longer to get another appointment.
The anesthesiologist tells her the growth they removed was surprisingly large, but there's nothing to worry about. It's routine. They got it all.
His baby brother died two weeks ago.
Well, that changes everything.
You think? But there's nothing to worry about, right?
They don't get it. It's not routine to find a growth in your body that needs to be removed and for which you exhibit no symptoms. It's not routine for it be cancer. It's not routine for your younger brother to battle cancer for most of his adult life and to die before he reaches 40. It's not routine to find another growth in your body that needs to be removed and for which you exhibit no symptoms.
We'll call you if we find anything unusual.
Yeah, right. I'll call you next week to find out the results. It's routine.
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