Yesterday was almost too painful to write about. See, all I really strive to do is help put the physician in a direction to come forth with truth to the patient. A human being deserves that. Providers sometimes have these huge egos and don't care what the advocate or patient says; they'll do it their way. Meaning keeping the visit short and sweet - try not to ask questions so I don't have to think about how not to answer them - things like that. Well bring a pitball into the mixed bag and things begin to change. Either for the better or for the worse. Yesterday I was pleased to meet Ann's' Oncologist. He is a short, Asian man with a gentle temperament. I remember how he spoke with his hands to make a point and how easy it was to talk to him. A gentleman. Pleasantly surprised. We talked about Ann being stage 4 cancer. Ann looked shocked!! She said am I terminal? When the doctor replied yes, she said someone told me there's another stage. I looked directly in her wanting eyes and said there is no further stage, however you can live for a very long time with stage 4. All the while I'm thinking you're getting worse at a pretty rapid rate. Just because the cat scans have spoken loud and clear; as your almost constant pain has. Which is the truth, I think. You see, I believe in miracles. All that means is that the books tell you one thing but your soul tells you another. It's your choice to believe which voice works best for you. Anyway after holding her hand, and reminding her I'll be here for her I left and went home. There I proceeded to cry. Thinking about all the tears I've shed in the last couple of years for those who have given their last breath. The people who passed from Hepatitis C and a few from cancer. Saying good bye never feels good. Even with all the make believe smiles and hand shakes, I prefer hellos. Lots and lots of hellos.