May 03, 2026 | Janine Praxmarer
Diagnosis: Case number - What medicine can feel like
The discussion of findings has never has taken place. Not until today. And yet my mom suddenly knew that she should have chemotherapy and radiation. Not because someone had calmly explained it to her, but because it was just so was certain. Without context. Without understanding. Without a conversation that would have helped her to understand the situation in the first place. understand.
The initial talks for this were held in December and of course I went with my mom. The only problem was that she had had a stomach bug the week before and was extremely weak. She was almost always lying in bed and had hardly any strength. And on top of that, she had something that had been with her her whole life: these long hospital corridors without windows, the cramped conditions, the restlessness - it was extremely hard on her.
The first chemotherapy consultation would be on a Friday I had been. We were standing at the registration desk when I suddenly realized that my mom was starting to wobble. And then she was simply gone. She fainted. At a moment like that, I just wished that someone would stop for a moment. That someone would understand what was happening. That someone might say: „Let's sit down for a minute.“ Or simply ask: „Are you okay?“
What came was just one sentence: „We can't treat anyone or have a conversation like this.“
No asking. No interception. No attempt to understand. Instead, there was simply a newer Appointment made. And we stood there, with the feeling that it wasn't about the person, but only about whether someone „works“.
In the meantime, the appointment for the radiotherapy was due - the mask was being made. This appointment took place in a cellar. The air was stuffy, there was a strong smell, it was warm, dark and cramped. As soon as I walked in, it was clear that it was going to be difficult. And then exactly what I was afraid of happened: My mom fainted again.
But instead of showing understanding, the doctor in charge also reacted annoyed and angry. There was no calm conversation, no asking questions, no pausing. Instead, we were referred directly to the emergency room. The reason given: The tumor is to blame for the fainting.
I have said several times that this is not true. That it had nothing to do with the tumor. That it was the situation, the excessive demands, the environment. But it interested nobody. It was more as if they just wanted to give us pass on.
So we went to the emergency room. They didn't really know what to do with my mom there. Her vital signs were fine, she wasn't acutely unwell. It was just everything was too much. Nevertheless, we sat there in the aisle for five hours. And nothing happened.
At some point I went to a doctor and said that we would leave if nothing happened here anyway. Only then did a Psychologist. She took a moment to talk to my mom and listen to her. And it was precisely at that moment that I realized what had been missing all this time: Someone who simply listens. He tries to understand. That's all it would have been.
After that, we went home. But that was just the beginning.
Because while we were still trying to process all of this somehow, decisions were already being made in the background. The tumor board decided on a Immunotherapy. Not because they found a way together with my mom, but because they never really understood her. She had only just a serious diagnosis get. She still didn't know exactly what she had. There was no proper discussion of the findings. And yet she had to make decisions, attend appointments and start treatment.
And then came the moment that is still hard for me to comprehend today.
My mom was invited to tell her that they only wanted her Palliative treatment becomes. That no curative systemic therapy can be carried out with it.
Not because it would have been medically impossible. But because it was considered not suitable for therapy has classified.
At that moment, I just thought to myself: Is it actually still possible?
A person who has just been diagnosed with cancer. Who is physically weakened. Who is afraid. Who is overwhelmed by everything that is happening. And instead of catching him, it is precisely this excessive demand that is used against him.
And that's where you start to understand what it really means when you are no longer seen as a human being.
But only as a case.
I'll tell you more in two weeks' time, because this was by no means the end.
If you have experienced something like this, please get in touch - you are not alone!
