My Doctor Emailed Me The Worst Possible News. It Sent Me Into A Tailspin — And Changed My Life.

I don’t know if it was cowardice, lack of bedside manner, or just laziness that prompted my doctor to notify me by email. One assumes this kind of news is best delivered in person or at least via the phone, but in any case, it put a crimp on my weekend.

“Just received the report from the radiologist, and unfortunately, it’s bad news,” he wrote. “I’m heading out for the holiday but try not to worry. When I return, we will schedule a lung biopsy and additional testing.” He attached a report to the email with test results highlighted with the ominous conclusion I had “advanced and very aggressive” lung cancer.

Try not to worry?

I had family in town for the Fourth of July and didn’t want to ruin their weekend by sharing my prognosis, but I was not good company. When the doctor returned, I stepped into our country’s health care hall of mirrors — a convoluted bureaucracy of doctors, insurance companies and clinics seemingly designed to create such stress that one might drop dead before receiving treatment.

It made no sense. I felt great, had never been a smoker, and from outward appearances was an exceedingly healthy 54-year-old man.

A couple weeks later I had chunks of my lungs removed. The procedure didn’t go well (avoid waking up when someone is poking inside you with a sharp object), and afterward I really did feel and look sick. At my wife’s urging, I sought a second opinion, and my new doctor determined there had been a mistake in my diagnosis. The radiologist had confused my left and right lungs, but the good news was that the biopsy confirmed I was cancer free, and now I was just suffering the temporary effects of a suboptimal procedure.

I fired my original doctors. Knowing right from left seems a requisite of