Andres is one of the older gentlemen on my caseload and we had our monthly meeting this week. He told me he'd seen his doctor the week before. He had a rather grave expression and asked my what chemotherapy was.
I was immediately concerned for him and went into a long and involved explanation of the various forms - pills, injections, intravenous pumps. Then I told him about some of the effects and emphasized that even though it may be hard on your body, the end result is positive and would help him survive to live a long, happy life.
I then asked him very gently if he had been diagnosed with something requiring chemotherapy.
"Well, yeah." He seemed a little confused, but continued, "I had an accident Friday and cut my foot pretty deep. I went to the doctor and got stitches. He said he would probably send me to chemotherapy."
Ooohhh. Physical therapy!
(I would have pounded my head on the desk at this point, but he already thought I was nuts.)
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