Behind Enemy Lines: A Personal Perspective

The doctor nods to me, as he excuses himself from the pastel-coloured examining room and pulls the door tight behind him with a piercing double-click of the latch. It is a mystical door that changes lives in an instant; a door you step through as an individual seeking consultation, and one you exit as a person living with cancer. I sit in silence and wait, as Jane, a single middle-aged woman, struggles with an accumulation of unspoken thoughts and emotions. I hesitate slightly, and roll my stool closer to her in an effort to fill an emptiness. I am acutely aware of Jane’s trepidation, as my fingers fidget with the ballpoint pen secured to my lanyard. I know she needs to hear she is not alone. Jane looks to me with fear welling in her eyes, and desperation filling her voice, “What would you do?” she whispers