Unremarkable: How Do We Uphold the "Care" in Healthcare?

A decade ago, when I was diagnosed with stage IV colorectal cancer, I was informed that my initial step would be to have a port placed in my chest before commencing chemotherapy. At that time, I was unfamiliar with what a port was, where it would be placed, and how it functioned. The night before my surgery, I experienced significant anxiety and was unable to sleep. Being an active and healthy individual throughout my life, and at only 44 years old with much of my life still ahead of me, I found myself in a very dark place.

Upon arriving for the surgery, an IV was inserted into my hand, and a mild sedative was administered to calm my nerves. Despite my grogginess, I recall the surgeon explaining the procedure matter-of-factly. In a moment of vulnerability, I placed my hand on his and expressed, “I’m so scared.” This unexpectedly touched the surgeon, breaking through his professional exterior. It became evident that my words had a profound impact on him.

During my third chemotherapy session, my oncologist inquired, “What did you say to Dr. Smith when he put your port in?” I recounted the earlier incident, and my oncologist responded, “You truly affected him. He asked about your wellbeing. In all my years, I have never known Dr. Smith to inquire about a patient after placing a port. You made quite an impression.” Having worked in the healthcare industry, I felt gratified that I had humanized the experience for someone, particularly a surgeon, and made a meaningful connection. Four years later, as I became involved in patient advocacy, I encountered Dr. Smith at an event, and he remembered me and was pleased to see I was doing well.

Having miraculously beaten stage IV cancer, I recently had my port removed by the same surgeon, Dr. Smith. During my pre-operative appointment, I greeted him, “Hi, remember me?” Initially, he did not. After reviewing my chart, he recalled my journey and expressed delight at my recovery. He calmly noted, “You’re really not even supposed to be here. You’ve been through a lot. I’m happy for you.”

"Don't you remember me?"

My port removal was uneventful, but about a month later, I experienced pain and returned for what I anticipated was a post-operative visit with Dr. Smith. He inquired, “What brings you in today?” When I mentioned the pain at my incision site, he initially did not recall removing the port. I couldn’t believe it. I pressed, “Don’t you remember me?”, but he didn’t answer.? After a methodical review of his notes, he examined me and determined there was no infection, and I was subsequently diagnosed with shingles by my primary care physician.

The term “unremarkable” is often the best news for cancer survivors, indicating that scans do not show anything abnormal or out of the ordinary. However, in general terms, it means unworthy or unlikely to be noticed—ordinary and not particularly interesting. Over ten years, I realized I had become unremarkable. Should I be glad? Is that the goal? While I do not consider myself special, I take pride in striving to leave a positive impression through my interactions. Even my oncology nurse, whom I considered a friend, has since distanced herself following what I assume is my official discharge. In retrospect, I’m sad to wonder if our relationship may have been primarily transactional, or at the very least, situational.

I aspire for a more personal connection with my healthcare providers. I desire genuine care for both myself and my son, who has a rare disease. Rather than being reduced to “a chart with notes” or “a shift that needs filling,” I seek memorable and lasting relationships that, despite their challenging beginnings, culminate in positive outcomes.

As a patient who is fundamentally a person, I aim to be remarkable.

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