In 1989, Ken Duckworth, M.D., had just started his fellowship in child psychiatry at the Massachusetts Mental Health Center in Boston when he was diagnosed with an early stage of testicular cancer.
“I felt a lump and 'pow!' My life changed in a short period of time,” recalled Dr. Duckworth, who is now medical director of the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill in Arlington, Va.
He endured surgery and a year of chemotherapy. “I didn't have the easiest type of [cancer], but thanks to the miracles of technology I was able to have three children with my wife and I'm still alive, so I feel very blessed that I was fortunate enough to pick a cancer that was curable,” he said.
After his treatment and surgery, Dr. Duckworth saw his physician for routine scans and follow-up visits, but it took about 5 years for the shock of the initial diagnosis to subside. “I felt like I was looking over my shoulder a lot. I started to relax a little bit, but I don't think a day goes by that it's not in my consciousness. In that way, the old expression 'Anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger' is kind of true.”
Despite the misfortune, he managed to complete his child psychiatry fellowship on time, thanks to support from his family and colleagues. “They made allowances for me to get the chemotherapy I needed,” he said. It was nice to see people stepping up to look after me.”
The incident caused him to evaluate his priorities and embrace healthy living as a way of life. For example, he tries to eat 10 fruits and vegetables a day (including piling on six slices of tomato when he has a hamburger); he swims twice a week, plays basketball, and caps his work week at 40 hours so he can spend time with his family.
His experience as a patient with a serious illness made him realize the importance of actively pursuing treatment options. “You get no extra points for being a doctor. You're a man getting chemotherapy,” he said. “Get second opinions. Don't be a passive recipient of medical advice, because I got very conflicting medical advice.”
One physician took a wait-and-see approach. Another advised him to have surgery. Yet another told him to have chemotherapy. “It turns out they were all right,” noted Dr. Duckworth, who practices in the Boston area. “I did nothing at first, then I got the surgery, then I got the chemotherapy.”
He added that he learned a lesson for his own psychiatry practice from the conflicting medical advice he received: Accept that sometimes the best course of treatment is unclear.
“So when we psychiatrists tell a person, 'I don't know whether we should give you lithium, Depakote, or Lamictal,' we are completely consistent with our brethren in medicine,” Dr. Duckworth said.
When Carmen Febo-San Miguel, M.D., was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1993, she did her best to maintain her normal routine as a full-time family physician in Philadelphia while she underwent a mastectomy, 6 weeks of radiation therapy, and 6 months of chemotherapy.
For example, she scheduled her chemotherapy appointments for Friday afternoons and would be “miserable” all weekend from the effects, but she usually felt well enough to return to work on Monday. “As the months progressed, I wasn't able to bounce back as quickly,” she said. “Sometimes I tried to go to work on Monday and had to come back home. Sometimes that was the case on Tuesday. I kept … as close to my regular [routine] as I possibly could. The cancer was something else that was put on the agenda. It was unfortunate and it was unexpected, but it was one more thing that I needed to do.”
Dr. Febo-San Miguel credits the support from her family, friends, and coworkers as instrumental to her recovery. “People rally to help you, especially if you're doing your share of what needs to be done,” she said. “If you're not claiming some kind of advantage because you're sick, people understand that you're going through hard times and they chip in.”
In 2001, she experienced a recurrence of her breast cancer that spread to her liver, ovaries, and abdominal cavity. “When I had the second recurrence … my fear was, how spread is it? Is it in my bones? Is it in my brain? A regular patient may not even have those thoughts and anxieties.”
She completed her last chemotherapy treatment in November 2002. She had no major complications, but has neuropathy in her hands and feet. “My hair is back and so is my weight, unfortunately,” she said.