On Snagging Sugarbaker

I've made mention of my future surgeon (captain of the "pick it out/pour it in" procedure) many times. What I haven't told you yet is how I wound up snagging Dr. Sugarbaker as my surgeon. 

When I first met with my oncologist, Dr. Lenz, we discussed the inevitability of this surgery (so long as the cancer remained only in my gut, which it has) and who I should seek out to do it. We discussed a couple of people including Dr. Andrew Lowy, a brilliant surgeon (also easy on the eyes if you know what I mean) who I met with early-on to discuss my options. We also discussed Dr. Sugarbaker, who pioneered the surgery and has been doing it longer than anyone.

In the end, I decided that I'd try for Sugarbaker first. The number of would-be patients banging down his door is plentiful, but I hoped that he'd accept me as his patient. Before I contacted Sugarbaker in earnest, I met with a surgeon at NIH just to make sure I was weighing all my options.

I really don't like the idea of weighing all my options, in general. I have a gut feeling about things and I go. I picked my college when I was 9 years old and I met my husband on the first day of college. Getting into Yale Law School didn't make me hesitate for a second about my decision to go to Stanford. And from the moment I walked into O'Melveny & Myers, I knew I wanted to practice law there. Honestly, looking at every single option and carefully weighing risks and benefits feels like a total waste of time to me. I know what I want and that's the end of it.

At the urging of my three nurses, I tried to be different when I chose my treatment plan. So I flew to Maryland with as open a mind as I could. Even though I was feeling like Lenz and Sugarbaker was my winning ticket, I met up with the NIH folks and was impressed with their professionalism and dedication to getting me cancer-free.

But I wasn't changing my mind. The NIH folks suggested surgery first, before any chemo, and I just didn't like that idea. Neither did Dr. Lenz from our first meeting, and given how fancy-pants he is, I figured that going with his gut instinct and mine was the right thing to do. The problem was, I still hadn't even spoken to Sugarbaker and my three nurses really liked what the NIH surgeon was saying, especially his promise to operate. I was definitely feeling a little bit of pressure, as my parents and husband seemed to be pulling in a different direction than me.

I emailed Sabrina, one of my closest friends, a partner at OMM, and the person responsible for my meeting with Dr. Lenz a few days earlier. Before I could even finish my Ben & Jerry's (I figured I deserved a little ice cream given the gravity of the big decision ahead of me), she had already called Dr. Sugarbaker's office. She begged Ilse Sugarbaker (Dr. Sugarbaker’s wife and office manager) to look at my pathology report, and even though that's generally never how the Sugarbaker acceptance process works, Ilse agreed to show the good surgeon my report to get his take on what my treatment should be. (How much do we love Sabrina? A lot.)

By the time we got back to our hotel, I hadn't heard from Ilse and was getting a little antsy, so I gave her a call. I offered to drive over to Dr .Sugarbaker's office to meet him, or her, or anyone, and she rejected my slightly crazed offer. She did promise to call me the minute Dr. Sugarbaker had given her his opinion of the chemo/surgery plan.

True to her word, Ilse called me back about 30 minutes later. She told me that my treatment path was crystal clear to Dr. Sugarbaker -- 3 months of chemo, one month of rest, surgery with Dr. Sugarbaker or at some other NCI affiliate (that's National Cancer Institute for those of you not well-versed in all things cancer), then another three months of chemo. She went on to explain how this was called the "sandwich" method because the surgery was "sandwiched" between 3 months of chemo, and before she could continue, I quickly stopped her.

"Wait a second...did you say 'surgery with Dr. Sugarbaker'? Does that mean Dr. Sugarbaker has accepted me as a patient?"

Ilse responded, "Yes, we'd love to have you as a patient."

I felt a wave of joy and relief rise in my body. Dr. Sugarbaker had accepted me as a patient. My choice was clear. And everything was going to be okay.