While loved ones, friends, and medical caregivers have been constant companions in this cancer journey, there has been one other constant companion in this stage of my life. It’s the Little Brown Book that accompanies me whenever I am going to a medical appointment.

It measures 6” x 9” x .5” and has a black coil and a brown cover. Made from recycled paper, this lined notebook with a dateline on each page has been my anchor in navigating the world of medicine and gaining an understanding of the complexities of cancer.

As a cancer patient, you’re told early in your diagnosis to write down your questions and lists of medications for your medical visits. It’s been good advice.

There are two reasons why I like my “Little Brown Book”: there are a lot of questions cancer patients have that need to be answered, and it serves as a repository of documentation when “chemo brain” forgetfulness and short term memory become part of your everyday world.

Perhaps this Little Brown Book has become my companion because it’s reminiscent of when I was a print, radio, TV reporter where little log books were the means to hold information for news stories before they were written. Perhaps it’s a little piece of comfort and predictability that I can hold in my hands when dealing with the uncertain world of cancer. Or, maybe it’s just a useful tool to collect my thoughts to share with the array of doctors that have been taking care of me.

There have been several doctors who’ve been privy to the world of the Little Brown Book. All have been patient in the questions posed to them from the lined pages. They have appreciated that the information on the medicine mix I’m using was readily available when they asked about prescriptions.

When I was afflicted with cellulitis after my surgery, the Little Brown Book came with me to the Emergency Ward so that I could be armed with information doctors and nurses needed about my cancer history. It also became the place where my surgeon could write down his personal pager number to be contacted when the condition flared up.

I believe that once you’ve been a reporter, you’re always a reporter. The inquiring mind of a retired reporter has ways of resurrecting when facing the world of the unknown. For me, cancer is the world of the unknown.

My surgeon was the first doctor to be on the receiving line of this old reporter’s questions. There were many questions posed to him with the reporter’s basic queries of who, what, where, when, why and how. Each visit he patiently answered the questions providing information, comfort, and confidence that I was in good hands.

Then there were the various emergency room physicians from numerous visits who likewise faced this old newsgal’s queries with the Little Brown Book in hand. Always professional, the questions were answered with kindness and compassion.

When there have been concerns after hours, the “on call Oncologist” has been guided through my cancer history from notes that have been collected in the book over these past six months. They too have appreciated that the information has been easily retrieved when they have asked me questions about my cancer history.

As can be expected, my oncologist received the most questions when I’d met her for my treatment orientation. Since then, her associate Family Practitioner in Oncology has stepped in as the liaison to the Oncologist to monitor my case. He receives a list of questions each month prior to my next chemo treatment. Both doctors have been very accepting of my questions, and are teaching me so much about this disease by their responses. If I didn’t ask them questions, I would be far less informed about managing my condition.

I am not alone in the questions raised by cancer patients to their doctors. On my last visit to the Family Practitioner in Oncology he would likely substantiate this claim.

“I’m sorry I’m running late today,” he apologized. “In my family practice, I will see 20-25 patients per day for five to 10 minutes each. With cancer patients, the number of people I see in a day is 10-12, because cancer patients have a lot of questions. It’s important that I take the time that cancer patients need to answer their questions.”

The Little Brown Book is part of my cancer history. It is a living diary of my cancer journey. It sits beside my appointment calendar where it can easily be found when my inquiring mind thinks of other “unknowns” that need to be answered.

Despite the “chemo brain,” the inquiring mind of this cancer patient helps to keep me better informed about my treatment. There is less fear when I’m informed. With information and assurance from my doctors, I continue my fight in this cancer journey with Strength, Courage, and Determination.