Crossing Paths With My Breast Surgeon in Public

Every year, I attend an art show celebrating the art of people with mental health challenges. The art is a product of art therapy classes held at a local mental health agency. Recently, I saw my breast surgeon at the show. She was the one who removed the cancer from my body. I had the utmost respect for her because she saved my life.

We were both examining a painting done by a man with dissociative identity disorder (multiple personality disorder). The man was standing by his artwork explaining the piece to the public. The painting had eight different images. According to the artist, each image belonged to a different fragment of his splintered soul. I found the painting fascinating because the images varied in color and style.

I wanted to remark to my breast surgeon that I thought the painting was extraordinary, but I couldn’t get up the nerve. It was ironic that a woman who had been so close to me, so intimate, didn’t recognize me, or at least pretended that she didn’t know me. In any case, I didn’t speak to her either.

Doctors have lives of their own. I didn’t want to intrude on my doctor’s personal life. But if I had talked to her, I would have thanked her for what she did for me. I might not be here today if it weren’t for her.

I admired this doctor so much; she was talented and seemed to possess everything. She gave people their lives back.

I remember studying her at the art show. I found myself staring at her, but she didn’t make eye contact with me until the very end of the show.

There are all kinds of relationships in life: friends, acquaintances, family members, health care providers. Sometimes it’s best to keep a distance from them. I wanted to gush over my doctor, but I spared her from my emotions. I could tell she just wanted to enjoy the art.

There would be plenty of time to talk to her at follow-up doctor’s appointments if they came up again.

But if I would have spoken to her, this is what I would have said:

Doctor X, I am so grateful for you. You gave me decades of my life I might not have had without your skillful surgical hands. I remember when you said, “I got clean margins; you should be very happy.”And my heart leaped for joy. More life was given to me. I would be able to raise my son to adulthood and take care of my beloved husband. I count you as one of the most important people in my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

That’s what I would have conveyed, but instead, I said nothing, and she said nothing.

If I had to do it all over again, I would have at least said “hello” and identified myself as one of her former patients. Maybe she didn’t recognize me without the hospital gown and the little surgery hat.

Life is strange. There are times to speak and times to remain quiet. That was a time to keep it under wraps. To fly under the radar. To simply glance at her and give a slight, knowing smile.

That’s what we did. So much can be conveyed without words.

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