(15) First impressions count ....

2 minute read time.

…. but aren’t always right!

Hands up … who amongst us judges others on their first impression of them? If we’re honest I think we all do to some extent.

I should know not to really, considering I have great fun changing the impressions people make of me!

Roll back the clock to diagnosis day. Everything happened backwards anyway, secondaries were diagnosed first, the next day the primary was confirmed and then in to the office of the last person to be introduced, the Breast Care Nurse (BCN).

For the past six months I’ve wondered if I was just unlucky. Everyone has raved about the BCN allocated to them. How helpful they are, understanding, always on the end of the phone. That first day, Mr BF and I sat opposite a specialist nurse, there to help us process and deal with the horrendous diagnosis and prognosis that had just landed in our laps and she had tears in her eyes when there were none in ours! The “helpful” literature presented to us was useless and only served to reinforce the message that I had bypassed the hoped for intervening “healthy” years between primary and secondary diagnosis. Didn’t this nurse understand what a secondary diagnosis meant? I guess she did, why else were the tears there? Surely this wasn’t how every new patient was received?

Shove the clock forward again to last week and there’s me, sat at the kitchen table with a friend, enjoying a cup of tea and a fair bit of chattering! It just so happens that this friend is a doctor. For whatever reason the conversation turned to nurses, specialist nurses in particular and how Dr. M thought that they were quite useful people particularly when things needed doing and questions needed answering. The story was told of the teary eyed BCN. Now Dr M is a straight talker if ever I saw one and a very competent doctor. She’s also a wife and mum and an incredibly caring person. She asked how I feel when her eyes fill up. Well that’s ok isn’t it? She’s a friend first and foremost, she knows me well and knows my family. I can accept and understand if her eyes fill up! Then she added that on occasion she has shed a tear for a patient, touched by their story or situation. No different to reading a book, watching a film or listening to music ….we can all find ourselves filling up at unexpected moments.

Now I feel guilty. I’ve judged this nurse because she is human. What right do I have to decide that because the nurse had shown her emotions that she was somehow less able to do her job? How do I know what has happened in her life that may have affected her that day?

With Dr M’s words swimming about in my head, I buried my first impressions and telephoned the nurse. After apologising profusely about possibly giving her the impression that her help and advice weren’t welcome we started again.

I now understand the role she is willing and able to play in my life. She now knows that my acceptance of my situation and fate is genuine and not a state of hysteric denial.

We will work together from here on in. As she said, she is officially my advocate and will do all she can to assist me. I suppose that makes me officially her patient …. I hope she isn’t expecting a model one!!

First impressions do count but there’s no shame in changing your opinion!

Bad Fairy x

Anonymous
  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Bad fairy,

    I must admit I make a judgement on a first meeting if they look at you straight in the eye and give you a firm hand shake that will do for me.

    See ya Sarsfield.xx

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Good to see you back Bad Fairy - Works the other ways as well. I may give the wrong 1st impression to people who don't know me. Being hard of hearing people often think I'm ignorant / rude / stupid- sorry folks, but probably just haven't heard you or may have heard you incorrectly.

    Sarsfield - I'll be all right then as I have to look you (almost ) in the eye as I have to lip read !

    Jewels x

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    shaved head, 18 hole doc mart boots , fred perry t-shirt, often with my red braces...turned up jeans...and covered in tattoos.....looking like a 1970`s football hooligan [ which i once was ]

    bloody store detectives follow me in shops ! cheeky gits.....[ never been a shoplifter ]

    even my specialist told me once we had become friends that he was nervous of me when he first met me......lol

    maybe its the tattoo on my head...[ eek ]

    for sure, you cant ever tell what a person is like untill you get to know them....

    handshakes...na id rather give you a hug, and that includes you sarsfield...

    my specialists get hugs as well.......

    maybe that why they all argue about who gets the short straw and has to see me......

    :-)

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    My dear Bad Fairy

    I was so happy to see your blog - I have been missing them.

    You have raised some issues which have been on my mind (now, don't groan).  The first is the way that health professionals behave when they are dealing with this sort of prognosis.  My husband's oncologist has been so 'professional' that he has showed no emotion at all from the beginning and  is absolutely determined that the worst must be accepted.  He is very anxious that we talk 'time-scales.'  My husband quotes statistics back at him. He will, he says,  be one of the 5% who survive beyond five years.   He is, apparently in 'denial' - it is his way of coping.   However, he is living well beyond the time expected of him - so perhaps he is right.   As long as he continues to think this way, I must be behind him.  

    My GP, on the other hand, when I explained our situation, is full of compassion.  Indeed, her eyes were swimming with tears when I told her of the type and stage of my husband's cancer.   I have to say, it was wonderful to be treated like a human being, by another human being, particularly after the coldness of the oncologist.

    There has to be a balance:  you want humanity and professionalism in situations like this, don't you?

    Anyway, my dear Bad Fairy, you clearly deserve both the sharpest professionalism, combined with warmth, humanity and oceans of humour.

    My very best wishes to you and to Mr Bad Fairy.   Magical, Highland vibes to you both.   Grace xx

    PS. Graeme - with the Punk make-up and safety-pins of my youth, I bet I could have scared even you.

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Great blog bad fairy.......I think we all know someone who we have changed our opinion about.  I like the stories where our opinion is changed for the better and not the worse but its not always the case.

    I hope you and your nurse continue to build a stronge and "happy" relationship!

    Debs xx