Sunday, May 31, 2015

What's in a Name?

The other day, I told my friend that I was going to see Dr. M at ABC Cancer Center, and she replied by frowning, and saying, 'I don't like that name.' Assuming she meant Dr. M's name, I inquired, 'Huh?' It's true - Dr. M does have one of those names where either name could be the first OR last name, so it's slightly confusing the first time - and especially when your husband is the one who makes the appointment, and then can't remember the name of the doctor, and you are madly trying to Google him to look up his credentials. LOL. However, then my friend replied, 'ABC Cancer Center sounds way too cheerful. Cancer centers should not sound that cheerful.'

I had never really thought of it that way. ABC Cancer Center never struck me as overly cheerful; in fact, it seems pretty standard for where we live. Like... if we lived in a state with beaches, it would be something like 'Beach View Cancer Center.' Which, I guess if you think about it, is sort of overly cheerful. I can just see it: Relax to the sounds of the ocean during chemo infusion. Ahhhh, that makes everything okay. At the same time, it's not as bad as something like 'ABC Yacht and Cancer Club' or 'ABC Cancer Center and Mortuary.' Haha. It got me to thinking... I know there is a lot of thought that goes into naming any business, but I bet naming cancer centers is pretty tricky. You don't want to sound overly cheerful or overly morose or overly spiritual or overly pagan or overly anything. Ever since our conversation, my mind has been going non-stop trying to think of what /I/ would name a cancer center if I, like, won the lottery and could start a cancer center. (As my dad explained to me when I was a kid, there are basically two ways you can get something named after you: either you die an early and tragic death, or you donate an assload of money. The latter seems much more appealing.) But even the Waning Moon Cancer Center has a somewhat morbid sound to it. 

At any rate, I am going to see Dr. M at the ABC Cancer Center tomorrow. (Maybe he can do something about this god damn cough, which I swear is a greater life threat to me than cancer at this point.) I mentioned that Dr. L had suggested waiting until I had my oncotype results to start seeing oncologists; however, Dr. M is going on vacation the week after next, and surgery #2 is scheduled for the week after that. According to my secretary ( = my husband, in case you are new here), he called Dr. L to ask her what to do, and she said to go ahead with the appointment tomorrow, and if we were happy with Dr. M, we could likely communicate by phone with him before surgery #2. All we really need to know from the oncologist prior to the surgery is chemo port or no chemo port, and since I'm reeaaaaally praying to all the powers that be that I do not need chemo, I'm not that worried about it. But then again, I'm not that worried about it in the same way that I was not that worried about my mammogram a little over a month ago, and look how that turned out. 

Reality Check Cancer Center. Maybe that's a good name. Leave your dreams and your future plans at the door. You can pick them up on the way out, if you make it

2 comments:

  1. This is a classic you post. Making me laugh in the middle of reading something pretty morbid. I'm hoping your cough starts getting better soon. Maybe a really good sleep aid that will force you to sleep through the coughing will do the trick.
    Ttys.

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    1. When I was writing this, I kept thinking of when we were trying to name our diving team, and almost ended up peeing ourselves laughing. XOXO.

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