It was a routine, busy day in my skin cancer clinic in Caroline Springs. There were footy and weather discussions, laughs, some tears. There were wound reviews, patients with concerns about a possible melanoma, other anxious patients waiting for results with a fear of the “C” word.
The day was going as smoothly as one can expect. I was, as usual, running behind when I looked at my patient list. A big smile spread across my face - the next name was a very familiar one, someone I hadn’t seen in over a year.
I went to call him from the waiting room with an apology for running late. More than two-thirds of Australians will be diagnosed with a skin cancer during their lives. It was a patient who I had diagnosed six years ago with an invasive skin malignancy and had treated in liaison with the local cancer hospital.
He had undergone surgeries, chemotherapy and radiotherapy. I had been regularly monitoring him and excising skin cancers to the point that he would often come in the room and say, “Doc I have this skin cancer and would appreciate it if you excised it today.” I always laughed at his accurate diagnosis and called him “Sir Doc”.
His routine was to tell me a dad joke before leaving the room. He entered my room, smiled and sat on the chair. I waited for him to start the conversation while I went through his file, but this time he didn’t start the conversation with his routine line.
“Doc,” he said, “today I am here to say my last goodbye to you and thank you for everything you have done for me.” I suddenly stopped and looking over at him. He continued: “My cancer has spread everywhere, and I have only three months to go.
I am on my end-of-life pathway. I have sorted everything out and chose voluntary assisted dying. I asked the hospital to give me a few days to see five important people in my life and you are one of them.
You are the reason I am still alive.” He stood up, shook my hand and left the room. Dr Farrukh Tufail I was in shock and wanted to say something, but words were not coming out of my mouth.
It took me a few minutes to come back to reality. I ran out to the reception, but he had already left. I sat on the floor for some time to get my emotions under control.
They were mixed feelings, of grief and pride. There is a line from Spider-Man that has since continuously echoed in my mind. “With great power comes great responsibility.
” This is my gift, my curse. Who am I?.
