(Original title – The Potions Master)

The biggest mystery that surrounded cancer when I was diagnosed was who does what medically for me. I enjoy throwing words on a page and I’m feeling kind of queasy after chemo but not enough to sleep yet, so I’m going to talk a little about my team.

First up is my GP. He is an important part of my team because he’s who I go to for the day-to-day health niggles and panic “am I getting sick” appointments. I’ve had only a couple of appointments to check some legit worrying things – my chest infection thing (thanks work xmas party), haemorrhoids (thanks constipation), and my super sore throat to check I wasn’t getting mouth ulcers (thanks reflux burning my throat and making me choke at night on stomach acid).

Next is my breast surgeon. At the moment, this silver fox isn’t playing a big role, but he was the one who delivered the diagnosis and pulled together my wider treating team. He has the most excellent calming bedside manner I’ve ever encountered in a medical professional and a great sense of humour. He lets me say dumb, funny things (like introducing Yvonne as my lawyer and threatening to sue him for poking my boob too hard) and explains things clearly.

My breast care nurse is the person I have the most contact with. She works from my surgeon’s office. She’s a busy woman who pops past when she can if I’m around having treatment or waiting for an appointment. She was with me at my appointment when I had the metastases confirmed, and she cried more than I did and held my hand the whole time. She is privy to all my medical information and pathology results, and any questions that I have about treatment, who is doing what, why something is happening, referrals to other specialists – I ask her. If she doesn’t know, she hassles people until I get the answers I need. She’s like a cancer personal assistant and I adore her.

My oncologist is a wonderful woman and we get along well. My surgeon has worked with her for over a decade across both melanoma and breast cancer and he vouched for her awesomeness when he made the referral. I see her just prior to every chemo session to talk through side effects and their severity from the previous chemo session, she makes any adjustments to the dose if needed, and she gives me prescriptions for painkillers or anything that I need. And then she makes me get my blood taken to check if my blood counts are high enough to go ahead with chemo. She’s very good at delivering bad news and being sympathetic, and doesn’t rush me out the door even if I’m spending 45 minutes asking questions during my appointment time.

The radiation oncologist isn’t playing a huge role yet; if I have surgery, I’ll have radiotherapy on my chest wall (basically, whatever exists underneath your tits, muscular and bone-wise). I met her on the ward when I was admitted for round two. And if I don’t end up having surgery, I won’t see her again because they won’t do radiotherapy on me because the side effects (burns like sunburn, extreme fatigue, swelling) aren’t worth going through for my type of boob cancer unless they do the big double-chop on me.

Chemo day unit nurses are the ones who administer the chemotherapy. Any last minute or random questions they’re able to answer. They specialise in cancer and if they don’t know the answer, there’s usually someone on the floor who does. If you want to know specifics about your blood results (I wanted to know what my vitamin D level was doing) they’re happy to show you. They’re super friendly and checking on everyone while you’ve got needles in your arms delivering poison to kill your cancer. Even if you only see them every three weeks like I do, they remember you and conversations you had with them at previous sessions which is better than your chemo-addled brain can do.

I have a psychologist as well, who obviously does the mental-health-check-in thing on me. We’ve only had one session so far, with another due at the end of the month. He’s a kind guy, and just a provisional psych, which I think is a great way to get some decent experience psyching people before you’re fully qualified. Psych buddies – feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.

My social worker helped me with my Advanced Care Directive, which is the document that states what I do and don’t want and what is important to me for the end of days. She’s a lovely woman and very straight forward.

I haven’t met the Aboriginal Liaison at the Peter Mac yet, but the one at the Women’s is amazing. It’s like having an aunty who tells you you’re being silly and put your big girl pants on and face whatever it is on your plate. That’s what she’s like for me anyway. She’s not a social worker, not a psychologist, but just someone who cares, who can connect you with cultural resources and talk about things in a way that other people don’t. And sometimes, just sitting down and having a yarn with someone makes you feel so much better.

When you’re admitted, there’s oncologists who float by to check in and see you, the ward nurses, and the pharmacy people who come and talk to you about your drugs and check you have enough of them at home.

I’m sure I’m missing some people, which if I think of them I’ll add them in later.