You think you’re invincible until you’re not. When this realization occurs who do you turn to? God? Family? Friends? Eventually, once your invincibility has been shattered by sickness you have to turn to medicine. This past September, I went from being a soon to be nurse to a patient. After months of experiencing symptoms I went to a doctor. This small town doctor didn’t know what was causing my symptoms and recommended that I see a gynecologist. After three months of waiting for an appointment I finally saw a gynecologist. I had some blood work taken and received news that I had some abnormal results. These results warranted an MRI on my brain. This MRI took nearly a month for my insurance to approve. It was in this time that I realized the scary and vulnerable reality of how it felt to be a patient. Although hard, this waiting gave me the clarity and the understanding I needed to learn about how difficult it is to be a patient in America. For example, weeks after I had my MRI, I had to call my doctor repeatedly day after day asking for the results. Finally a receptionist answered. She said that the doctor hadn’t reviewed the results yet, but they were in the office and she would ask if the doctor could look over them. I received a call back from that same receptionist while she hurriedly told me that I had a pituitary adenoma. I was shocked and scared, but calmly asked about the next steps of my treatment. The receptionist said that I would probably be referred to an endocrinologist. The next few weeks were filled with endless phone calls; hour after hour in between my classes and clinicals, finally realizing how it feels to be a patient. 

All four years of college, I have been studying what it takes to be a good nurse. One concept I have learned is the difference between disease prevention versus disease treatment. The preventative patients come to their yearly checkups, get all their immunizations, and prevent those chronic diseases from occurring. On the other hand, those who treat rather than prevent the problems are admitted into the emergency room more times than the doctor’s office. While reading the textbooks these two contrasts couldn’t have been clearer to me. I had no doubt that the behaviors that patients practiced to prevent disease was what really mattered. My tumor shed light on the truth and helped me realize that I was wrong. There is never a black and white viewpoint when it comes to the best type of medicine. It is so easy to point a finger when hiding behind the many rules and guidelines learned as a healthcare professional. However, when I finally became the patient I realized how difficult it is to not only practice, but advocate for preventive self-care. 

After weeks of phone calls and cancellations I got an appointment that was scheduled for March. This appointment wasn’t three weeks, not even three months, but five months away from my original diagnosis. By the grace of God my sister had a practitioner come into her class and speak. She loved his passion for his job and shadowed him at his practice. During this time she shared my diagnosis with him and he said that he would be happy to see me. Thanks to this one healthcare professional that treated me as an individual in need, I was finally cared for. I was no longer being passed along because I didn’t have the right insurance, or the right connections; I was treated as equally as anyone else. The decision to break this cycle and care for patients, not just treat them is up to those in white coats and scrubs taking on the roles of nurses and doctors. These powerful people have been given great abilities, but also tremendous responsibilities. By having a brain tumor I have gained the knowledge on what it takes to be a patient. I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. I know that this diagnosis has been my biggest blessing in disguise. I look forward to a long career caring for, and retaining the dignity of the vulnerable who, like all of us, at one point thought they were invincible.