For those of us with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), it is imperative to have a good working relationship with our healthcare team. This became crystal clear to me while I was dealing with what appeared to be a healthcare crisis. My pulmonologist and his office staff kept me calm and engaged as we plotted a way forward.

This adventure began on a bleak, ugly, rainy day in September as my friend and I traveled the 62 miles to the Greenbrier Clinic, where we were to have our annual wellness visit. The weather did not help the mood, which is usually slightly less than celebratory because this whole journey starts after a 12-hour fast.

Once we arrived at the clinic, we checked in and received the schedule for the marathon wellness check-up.  It includes when we are to have our blood taken, what immunizations are on the schedule, where to leave the urine sample, and what time to report for the electrocardiogram, the bone density test, the mammogram, and the chest CT scan. Once all these things were completed, we each consulted with our assigned physician to discuss any medical questions.

Though we dread the fasting and the pre-5 a.m. departure, we are happy to have completed what we think is a thorough physical.

By the time I had my consultation, my physician had the bloodwork results and the urine analysis available. Things looked good, except my vitamin B12 level was a little high, so we discussed dosing every other day. The doctor told me that if everything looked good, Iwould receive the results of the mammogram, and Computed Tomography (CT) scan by mail.

Two days later, panic set in when my physician called to say she was sending my pulmonologist a copy of the scan and results, which she would email or fax me. A new spot had been found on my left lung. The report said the place was “deemed malignant until proven otherwise.”

I was debating how to tell my two best friends when the phone rang. It was the nurse practitioner from my pulmonologist’s office. She had already received the results from my physician and said she felt compelled to tell me that the radiologist must give the worst-case scenario because they can be sued, but they cannot be sued for scaring people to death. Her empathy and reassurance helped me to manage my anxiety, and she set up an appointment for me to come in and discuss the results and set up a plan for moving forward.

The appointment went much better than I expected. I was afraid that I would be stuck in medical limbo for a long time, as I had heard from others how hard it was to get a positron emission tomography (PET) scan appointment. I left the office with an appointment for an arterial blood gas test, a PET scan, and a follow-up appointment with my pulmonologist. He said that if the screen lights up, we will go in and take the thing out. There is no need for a needle biopsy and no need to wait longer to get rid of the thing.

Elation Ensues

On the day of the follow-up visit, my pulmonologist greeted me with the biggest smile on his face and announced that God visited my house last week. He said to get a bottle of champagne and celebrate with a friend. Even if you don’t drink, it won’t hurt you just this one time.” He said that it had been a long time since he had seen a good result like this after seeing a spot like mine on the scan. The PET did not light up and the spot had diminished in size and had much less defined margins.

From the first phone call from the nurse practitioner to when I received the results from my pulmonologist, I was not worried about the outcome. I was comforted by the compassion and efficiency of the team’s work. This experience made me more convinced than ever that I had chose the right doctor.