My week with a gynecologic oncologist

Taken prior to observing a hysterectomy

A gynecologic oncologist specializes in a field of medicine that deals with cancers of the female reproductive system. The gynecologic oncologist I shadowed at Weill Cornell Medical Center – New York Presbyterian Hospital (#7 in the nation and #1 in the state) is an African American, middle-aged genius who is incredibly knowledgeable and personable with his patients and colleagues. He’s also one of the top physicians in his field.

I had the opportunity to shadow him as he examined, consulted with, and operated on patients. I learned more about procedures like a hysterectomy (removal of the uterus) and conditions like peripheral neuropathy (damage or disease affecting the peripheral nerves; can cause tingling in the extremities). Dr. Holcomb sees quite a number of women with medical conditions such as cervical cancer, ovarian cysts, and endometriosis.

Pelvic exams: a dreaded part of the routine check-up at the gynecologist

I’ve noticed that the women Dr. Holcomb sees are generally comfortable with pelvic exams. Very few were uncomfortable, and rightfully so. Having a stranger, even if it is your physician, stick his fingers and speculum inside you to examine your hoo-ha isn’t exactly something you'd get excited about. Some women winced or openly showed their nervousness by shaking or covering their mouths, while most just sat there and stared into space. The doctor carried on conversations during this uncomfortable time. I was surprised that no one was opposed to having an unknowledgeable pre-medical student in the room during this private, personal examination.

In the OR

During my days in the OR. I tried my best not to get in anyone's way (including Dr. Holcomb himself, the residents, a couple of nurses, and the medical student) and just to watch the procedure from a distance. A couple of times Dr. Holcomb was very kind to let me move a bit closer to take a look at what he and the residents were doing over the patient.
On my first day in the OR, the first thing I saw as soon as I entered the room was a vagina on the operating table. The woman was covered with sterilized sheets, and only the portion of her body that was showing and would be operated on was her vagina. Actually, she was getting a vaginal hysterectomy, so her uterus was actually the site of operation. I wasn’t disturbed by the sight… I admit, I was a little startled. I'd never seen anything like this before, let alone observe any type of surgery. But it was an incredible experience, and during the few hours I spent in the OR just staring at the professionals do their job, I began to reflect on how privileged physicians are to heal and treat the illnesses of our patients.

Here are a few interesting encounters I had during my shadowing:

• Earlier this week I met an older woman who chose to delay chemotherapy treatment for her ovarian cancer (she had valid reasons). She looked like she was reaching the end of her lifespan. She sat and talked with Dr. Holcomb to discuss her treatment options, then after her pelvic exam, she left. I pegged her as a bitter old woman because of her comportment toward the doctor and the reality of her imminent demise, but on her way down the hallway out of the office, she turned around momentarily, caught me watching her walk away, and waved and smiled warmly at me, saying, “Take care, and good luck!” I was immediately stung by my previous impetuous dismissal of her. I was unfair to not have given her the benefit of the doubt, and to not have tried harder to be empathetic and understanding of her.

• On Thursday, right before Dr. Holcomb made his way into the exam room to see another patient, a loud voice came over the loudspeaker and boomed urgently, “Attention! Code red, code red!” I froze, thinking we were about to die. Then I looked around anxiously to see how the rest of the hospital staff was responding. “Uggghhh, it’s so loud!” one of the PAs (Physician Assistant) cried, covering her ears as the person on the other end of the loudspeaker kept calling out “Code Red!" Thankfully, it was meant for another part of the huge hospital, and I calmed down. Code Red in a hospital typically means that there’s a fire. (Code Blue, another common code, means that a patient is in need of immediate medical attention). Everything ended up being alright, I later learned.

• Yesterday, the doctor was speaking with an Asian couple. The woman couldn’t speak English, so the husband translated everything for her. The doctor then told them that she did not have that much time left to live… I didn’t realize until a few moments later that I’d been holding my breath. The woman’s reaction to this news was, “Oh my goodness!” and the man simply said, “Oh!” but there were no tears from either of them. I couldn’t move until the consultation was over because I felt that if I did, someone would turn to me and yell at me to leave the room. I felt as though I didn't belong there anyway. The conversation left me feeling heavy and deeply saddened. I don't think I can ever become an oncologist. My heart went out to the sweet woman whose life would be ending soon because of a horrific disease we are still striving indefatigably to find a cure for.

• The New York-Presbyterian University Hospital of Columbia and Cornell is flooded with wealthy patients. Dr. Holcomb has treated a number of well-to-do women, including a movie producer who was recently interviewed by CNN, a family member of the CEO of Hearst Corporation, both the daughter and sister of a Russian billionaire who publishes many well-known U.S. magazines (such as Golf Digest, Forbes, etc.), and many Arabs from places like Kuwait and Saudi Arabia whose care is paid for by the kingdoms. Can you believe this? I had no idea this hospital was filled with such affluent patients, or that people come from faraway places to be treated here.

I had a great shadowing experience with Dr. Holcomb. I'm blessed to have been able to complete this as part of Cornell's Pre-Professional Programs. My resolve to pursue a medical career has grown.