By Emmanuel Fashakin
I had known Frank for almost twenty years. He was a bright-eyed, very respectful young man who enrolled in our Medical Practice in our early years on Parsons Blvd, Flushing. Soon he got married and brought his wife to the practice. They were a happy family.
Frank was in very good health. A very handsome crossbreed of what looked like Italian/Mediterranean ancestry and African stock. Frank got a decent job and settled down to enjoy his life. The only problem was that Frank smoked. Quite a bit. I talked to him over the years but he always promised to stop “sometime.” He never did. Even after he developed high blood pressure, Frank kept his smoking habits.
Four years ago, Frank, now 38 had an accident. He was stopped at a red light when some crazy driver rammed into him from behind. He seemed ok but he came to see me the next day because he had pains in the neck. I gave him some painkillers and muscle relaxants, and also ordered X-Rays of his cervical spine, just to be sure that there are no fractures or dislocations. The result was a bombshell.
The neck was fine, but the X-Rays picked up a suspicious mass on top of Frank’s right lung suggestive of lung cancer. The radiologist suggested doing a CAT Scan of the lungs to further evaluate the findings on plain X-Ray. I promptly called Frank in to discuss the findings.
Frank’s reaction completely took me aback. In essence, he said that I was lying, that there was no cancer nothing, that I was making it up because he had refused to stop smoking. And he didn’t say it in a nice way. He was belligerent and abusive. Luckily, the wife, who is also my patient and actually until then used to be the more difficult of the two to deal with, was also present. She talked very nice and apologized on his behalf. I ordered the Cat scans.
The scans confirmed what we already suspected. Yes: early lung cancer developing in the upper lobe of the right lung, and very operable. I told Frank that the crazy driver probably saved his life. Frank was still in denial. He said he had no cancer. I didn’t argue with him but did my job by referring him to a thoracic surgeon. I was not sure what he was going to do, but my hope was that he would do the right thing after he has thought over the situation.
I didn’t hear from Frank for a few weeks, but I was happy one Monday evening, my only day for late hours consult at the time when Frank came in for blood tests preparatory for surgery. The surgery was successful and after further adjunct treatment, Frank became cancer free. After his surgery and when he felt strongly enough, he returned to the office and apologized profusely. All was well, or so it seemed.
Last Fall, Frank’s wife came to see me. It was already three years since Frank’s surgery. I had not seen Frank for a few months, but that was not unusual. She looked sad and gloomy. She said that Frank had suddenly developed a heart attack and died suddenly. I suspected that Frank went back smoking again after his brush with death three years earlier. Frank was survived by the wife and two beautiful daughters. He was 41 years old. One way or the other, the Grim Reaper got his man.
Emmanuel O. Fashakin, M.D
FMCS(Nig), FWACS, FRCS(Ed), FAAFP, Esq.
Attorney at Law & Medical Director,
Abbydek Family Medical Practice, P.C.
