Cancer Schmancer
Fran Drescher
Language: English
Pages: 256
ISBN: 0446690589
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Part inspirational cancer-survival story, part memoir-as-a-laughriot, picks up where Fran's last book left off.
different, no better, no worse, than the doctors you may encounter in your neck of the woods. It’s not about them, it’s about you. Us. We’re the ones who must change, if we ever expect there to be change. We have to take control of the situation, become educated consumers, network among ourselves, and gain information and insight into getting diagnosed and getting treatment. Someone gimme a podium! I’ve tried to be as honest as I can. Even my editor said, “Fran, I don’t think we need to go into
appropriate answer. “When do you see the surgeon?” She sounded businesslike. “Um, Friday, not until Friday.” I felt whipped, sapped of my strength. “Did they grade the tumor, any mention of a letter or number?” She sounded like a nurse, my nurse. “All she said was that it was very early, very slow growing, and very noninvasive.” By soft-pedaling it, I hoped to convince myself it was hardly anything. The fact that it was indeed cancer was merely incidental. I still needed to be the shtarkar,
seen, she made by far the best presentation. A feather in her cap, I’d say. John took out his pad and pen to take notes, titling the page “Sweetie’s Visit to the Triple C Ranch” (short for “Cedars Cancer Center”). The first and most shocking statement Doctor #9 made was how terrible it was that it had taken this long to diagnose me. She couldn’t understand why none of the previous doctors thought to do a D&C. “What I teach all my students, and what everybody learns in med school, is: bleeding
euphoric. A German Shepherd puppy, maybe six months old, greeted us on our approach. His tag said his name was Joe and he was the sweetest, friendliest pup. Who wouldn’t be if he lived in Shangri-la? He stayed with us the whole time during our visit. It was refreshing to be around such a happy, gawky young dog. John, Chester, and I all really enjoyed his attention. He was pure innocence, there was no heaviness to him like there was with us. He was like an angel in a heavenly place. As we sat on
changes weren’t symptomatic of the same thing. So I decided to call my internist, Doctor #3. I’d already seen two gynecologists, who’d found nothing from my Pap test, pelvic exam, ultrasound, and mammogram. Based on the tests, it didn’t seem like my problems were gynecological. Meanwhile every attempt Peter and I made to connect outside the studio failed miserably. Everything we’d once had together seemed to have deteriorated, and all that was left was the show. We tried marriage counseling, but