Last night the Big C returned, not surprisingly with an opening dream sequence. Laura Linney, portraying Cathy Jamison in the Showtime series, is running. The scene turns out to be a nightmare, and she awakens with a headache and her husband by her side.
OK so far.
Within a few minutes, Cathy’s young oncologist informs her that the interleukin 2 hasn’t worked; after two rounds of “chemo” the melanoma hasn’t budged. Sitting at his desk in the consultation room, he suggests she roll some joints for relief of headaches. She says she wants another opinion. It’s about time.
The main problem Cathy faces in this episode is that she can’t get an appointment with her oncologist of choice, Dr. Atticus Sherman despite calling, calling and calling. So finally she thinks out of the box: “That would be a coffin,” intimates her deceased, elderly neighbor Marlene who visits, spiritually, from Season 1.
So Cathy dons a suit and heels, and pulls a small suitcase with wheels – in the style of a drug sales rep – to work her way into the famed oncologist’s office. This desperate strategy, reminiscent of that suggested by journalist Elizabeth Cohen in the Empowered Patient book, and tried at least once by Samantha in Sex in the City when she had breast cancer, seven years ago or so on HBO, nearly backfires. But in a stroke of changed fate, the same doctor’s office calls Cathy to let her know she’s got an appointment for next week.
Such drama, just to get an appointment didn’t move me. But perhaps I’m too removed from this sort of painfully real situation for the countless, frustrated patients who can’t get appointments with appropriate specialists.
I was disappointed with the episode for other reasons. It wasn’t rich with ideas. There was no meaningful discussion of Cathy’s cancer, and only a shallow exploration of her feelings.
Like other TV comedies, this show was about everyday junk and family life: her son’s farting habit, her friend’s active sex life and pregnancy, her brother’s insanity, her dog’s seeming to be dead and then turning out to be alive. This (non) focus is fair enough, I suppose; when a person has cancer, they’re indeed surrounded by people in their family and friends who have their own needs and issues.
A particular beef is this: Clearly Cathy needed a second opinion; that’s been the case all along. But the script-writers made it too easy by having the young oncologist be utterly clueless and behaving inappropriately. The value of a second opinion would be clarified if Cathy had chosen to seek another doctor’s input even if she were receiving seemingly expert care from a solid, more experienced physician.
And where is the Internet in all of this? Her friend Rebecca (Cynthia Nixon) might be looking some stuff up. Or her brother, for that matter, who’s now said to be manic depressive, could be maxing out on free and potentially useful information. His anger at his sister would be more credible if it were less extreme and if he were less bizarre; his is not a fair or typical depiction of his stated mental illness.
How will Cathy’s appointment with Dr. Sherman go next week? We’ll see.