I'm Dr. Yenta and I Don't Need A Medical Degree

It's Cancer. I don't even have to see him to know.

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Congratulations, Yentas – it’s finally here! That fabulous moment when all your skills are called upon: Someone you know is in the Hospital and it’s up to you to set things right.

Sure, as a world-class know-it-all, you’ve done this before. Who among you isn’t an expert in Yenta Law? Yentas, as some of you may not know, need not be bothered with such time wasters as evidence and a trial. Just one look at the face of the accused on the evening news – say a husband charged with murdering his wife -- and Yentas can render judgment:

 He’s too good-looking: Guilty.

And what about that perennial Yenta favorite, Whadaya Think That Set Them Back? As those of you who read my treatise, Save the Date For Our $250,000 Wedding, recall, a skilled Yenta — and there is no other kind — attending a fancy affair, can not only announce to the entire table how much every item cost, from the orchestra to the floral arrangements, she can also tell you which bridesmaid the trombone player will be banging later.

But serious illness, for a Yenta, is the happiest time of the year, for they and they alone can save the day.

Although I am a world-class Yenta myself, I would never, ever presume to give other Yentas advice. In fact, I would bow to your expertise, if mine were not so much better.

But for those of you just beginning to stick your nose into other people’s business, a primer:

Regardless of what hospital the patient is in, whether they have yet to get a diagnosis or are hooked up to a machine that’s breathing for them, tell their caregiver to get them somewhere else. NOW!

Caretakers, particularly partners of someone who’s suddenly been taken ill, are often stressed and confused. They are struggling to take in a tremendous amount of information, presented to them in a language (Med Speak) that none of the poor things understand. In eleven out of ten cases, caregivers do not even know how to get their loved one to the right hospital.

This matter must be addressed at once, in no uncertain terms.

“NEW YORK-PRESBYTERIAN’S CARDIAC CENTER IS SHIT! MASS GENERAL IS THE ONLY PLACE TO BE!  GET HIM THERE NOW!”

The caretaker may be taken aback, especially if it is ten o’clock on a Saturday night. They may even say, ‘But how do I do that?’  “We don’t even have a diagnosis yet.” “I live in New York, Mass General is in Boston.”

This is not your problem. You have given the caretaker the benefit of your expertise. If they are too stupid to take it, this is not your problem.

Do not allow the caretaker to be taken advantage of by doctors, particularly so-called “specialists” or “department heads”.

Too many people are intimidated by a white coat or a diploma from an overpriced medical school like Johns Hopkins or Harvard.  How many of these “experts” have your years of watching “E.R.” or “Chicago Hope”? 

Doctors are so busy with their fancy tests, which are just a way of getting kickbacks from the drug companies, that they ignore the obvious.  Did the fools even bother checking for a urinary tract infection, which, in patients over seventy, is the root cause of practically everything?  Or look in the patient’s mouth for a tooth infection, like your cousin’s wife had, which got into her bloodstream and made her so septic that within two hours of leaving her fancy internist’s office, she dropped dead? This was right before she and her husband were finally going to take their dream vacation to Bali, which goes to show. 

Yenta doctors instinctively know what’s going on. Often they don’t even need to see the patient to make a diagnosis. And when they do, they drop everything and contact the family.

Could this be some sort of virus? There was one going around California. I don’t remember the name. Did they test for it?

Often, a caretaker will try to keep friends informed of a loved one’s illness with such programs as “Caring Bridge” or a group e-mail.  These well-meaning missives are often accompanied by notes such as, “We appreciate your concern – it means so much hearing from you – but please contact us by e-mail rather than calls or texts.  I’m putting all my energy into being an advocate for Julian right now and I’m exhausted.” 

It is essential to remember that these directives are for OTHER PEOPLE, not Yentas. Sure, it may have been a few years since you saw Justin, or whatever his name is, but living with uncertainty is not good for anyone, especially Yentas, with their exquisitely calibrated nervous systems.

In such cases, the Yenta M.D. must shoot the caregiver an e-mail:

“Any news?” “Have you considered a second opinion?” “Why not?” And if you don’t get a response, follow it up with a voice message.  “Call me.”  

Some patients insist they do not wish to have visitors in the hospital. They may say they are tired or not up for “hosting”. Yentas must never enable this sort of behavior.

The best thing you can do, in cases where patients say they’d like to be alone, is march right into their hospital room, especially if there is nothing on television that month.

Pay no attention to reports that the patient’s appetite is “off”. Who doesn’t appreciate a Junior’s cheesecake? It will also give you something to nibble as you ferret out the important medical details that doctors, who are forbidden to spend more than fifteen minutes with a patient, even while removing a brain tumor, inevitably miss.

Responsible Yentas share what they learn with others.

There are times when families insist that they are awaiting test results and do not yet have a diagnosis. This is terribly selfish behavior. Friends and acquaintances need to know what’s really going on, not the vague bullshit disseminated in the group e-mail. And once Yentas have that information, it is their obligation to call everyone they know and get it out there.

This may not be easy. Often, a family has rudely blind-copied their e-mail medical reports, making it difficult for Yentas to exchange theories. But a dedicated Yenta M.D. will persevere.

“Managed to see Joshua, before she chased me out of there.  How did he look? Between us, awful.  I’ve seen brisket with more muscle tone. The doctors are saying it was a fungal infection brought on by sitting through a seven hour Antonioni Antonioni festival at Film Forum and they’ve got it under control. Please. I give Jason two days.”

Do not be afraid to bring a delusional partner down to earth.

Have you ever noticed, at funerals, that the bereaved is in a state of shock, even though it has been perfectly obvious to everyone for months that their partner WAS NOT A WELL MAN.  This is because we are a molly-coddled society, which is not entirely unpleasant if you are a man who remembers Molly when she was nineteen. Ours is a society awash in denial, sometimes even snorkeling in it.

Yentas never allow others the comfort of false hope.  They take that caregiver out to dinner and give it to them straight.  

“A 79-year-old man with bladder cancer? They’re not going to treat him with chemo or surgery, he’d never survive it.  He’ll get palliative care. Are you not finishing that desert?”