Written communication

Well, this is something that will help me go to sleep tonight – a letter…

My oncologist dropped by my hospital room yesterday, to pay me a visit, but also to give my parents a letter. The letter is supposed to explain my situation and facilitate my parents’ application for a new US visa. It is a long shot, but maybe the American Consulate in Moscow will even agree to process their application? Then they can avoid making the long flight back to Vietnam.

The doctor handed me the letter in an envelope and I simply passed it to my father. I never saw its content until just now, when a digital copy was sent to my medical account. And one sentence says, ‘He has a very guarded prognosis and if treatment is unsuccessful, he does not have a lot of time.’

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. My doctor already told me that my situation is tough. The last two courses of treatment failed to put me back into remission, and each successive round of chemo has a lower chance of doing so. But somehow, hearing the news from her in person, with her calming presence, was more bearable. And she told me more than just one cold hard sentence. Things like, ‘we still have options and as long as we do, we should try them’ and ‘you’re young and otherwise healthy so you have a better fighting chance’.

Maybe I’m just bad at receiving and interpreting written communication. No wonder I have had so many fights with Diane over texts.