10/08/2026
I must have asked a million questions at my first oncology appointment.
I sat there, nodded, said "okay" about twenty times, and walked out to my car, realizing I couldn't tell you a single thing they had just said to me.
It wasn't because I'm passive. Anyone who knows me knows I'm not.
It's because I was terrified, grateful, and painfully aware that these people were busy, and I didn't want to be the difficult one.
So I've written down the sentences I learned to ask along the way.
Not "be your own advocate." That's a slogan, and slogans are useless when your ears are ringing. These are the literal words, and what to say when you get a non-answer back.
"I'll look into it" evaporates the second you leave. A request documented in your chart is a record. It follows you. You can point at it later. I've watched clients get physical therapy, lymphedema therapy, and cardio-oncology referrals they'd been asking about for a year, purely because they added the words "put that in my chart today."
Some decisions genuinely are urgent, and I'm not telling you to delay treatment. I'm telling you that you're allowed to know which category you're in, instead of assuming everything is an emergency because it feels like one. Ask. Let them tell you.
Screenshot whichever one you need. Bring it in your pocket, because you know you're going to have your phone with you π€ͺ
You're the only person in that room who has to live in this body afterward, so make sure you have all the information available to you, and so that you can go back to down the road.