More Than Medicine: The Power of Trust Between Patient and Doctor

At the end of March, we celebrated National Doctors Day, and it got me thinking. We often recognize physicians for their expertise, their training, and their ability to save lives. And rightfully so. But as a long-term kidney cancer survivor, I have come to understand something even more important.

What patients remember most is not just what doctors do. It’s how they make us feel. There is a moment every cancer patient remembers, the moment you realize whether you are just a case…or whether you are truly being cared for.

When you first hear the words “you have cancer,” your world fractures. You’re not thinking about the best treatment options. You’re thinking: Am I going to beat this? How long do I really have?

Great doctors understand this. They don’t just see a tumor. They see a person whose life has been turned upside down. They pause. They listen. They meet you where you are. And in doing so, they give you something powerful: a sense of humanity when you need it most.

I remember the first time my wife Liz and I met Dr. Toni Choueiri. I walked into the appointment carrying a big thick binder filled with research, questions, and a ton of notes.

And I brought something else.

A photo of Liz, me, and our four daughters. I placed the picture on the table in front of him and told Toni: “This is what we are playing for.”

He picked it up and studied it. For a long, quiet moment, he just looked. Then he put it down, looked at me, and said: “I got you. We are going to grow old together.” In that instant, something shifted. Toni didn’t just see a patient. He saw a life worth fighting for, and he let Liz and me know that he was in that fight with us.

Trust, however, didn’t happen overnight. It was built over time. If you ask Dr. Choueiri today, he’ll probably tell you early appointments with me felt less like medial consultations and more like FBI interrogations, and he wouldn’t be wrong. For the first year, I brought that big, white binder to every appointment. I asked everything. Challenged everything. Double-checked everything.

Because when your life is on the line, that’s what you do. But over time, something changed. Not because I stopped caring, but because I started to feel heard, respected, and aligned with Toni and my care team. One day, I realized I didn’t need the binder anymore. I stopped bringing it.

That’s what trust feels like. It’s not blind faith. It’s earned confidence, trust, and respect. Something else happens over time, too. Your care team becomes more than your care team.

They become part of your life.

They are there for the hardest conversations and the biggest victories. They see you at your most vulnerable. They walk with you through fear, hope, setbacks, and milestones. And over time, the relationship changes.

A nurse remembers your last conversation. A lab tech asks about your family and means it. The team celebrates your good scans like they’re their own. But at the same time you learn about their lives and their families too.

These aren’t just clinical interactions anymore. They are human connections. And for me these human connections have become incredibly special to me. For those of us living with cancer over years, not months, your care team becomes an extension of our family, standing alongside the people we love, helping carry us through.

Great doctors also understand something critical: information alone isn’t enough. Patients need reassurance, without false hope. They need honesty, delivered with humanity. They need to feel that no matter what happens, they are not alone.

Because cancer doesn’t exist in 15-minute appointments. It shows up at 2 a.m., as “scanxiety” sets in a week before your next setoff schedule scans, or in those nervous quiet moments post scan as you anxiously await your test results. Great care reaches beyond the clinic, with responsiveness, empathy, and presence.

Years into survivorship, you may not remember every treatment detail. But you will always remember how your care team made you feel.Because great care teams leave a lasting imprint on your heart. They give you strength when you feel weak, clarity when you feel overwhelmed, and hope when you need it

most.

Cancer is one of the hardest things a person will face. But the right doctor, the right relationship, can transform that odyssey from fear to trust, from isolation to partnership. My odyssey continues alongside Toni Choueiri.

We continue down the cancer path together. But more importantly:

We are growing old together.

That promise he made in our first meeting came to life, not just in years, but in milestones: graduations, engagements, weddings, and the birth of my first grandchild last fall.

Moments I once feared I might never see.

And as I look ahead, I don’t just see more appointments or scans. I see more life. More love. More milestones. More memories to be made. And I know that Toni and my care team will be there to share all of those with me and my family in the days ahead.

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