The first call was with the head of thoracic surgery at a major cancer hospital. She explained that my condition had advanced quickly and that, contrary to what the first physician said, there was a surgery that could cure me. It would involve removing both my esophagus and my stomach and attaching my intestines to the remaining little bit of my esophagus I’d have left. She estimated I’d have a 10 percent chance of dying on the operating table and a 70 percent chance of a crippling outcome. But the odds were in favor of my living, so her recommendation was clearly worth taking seriously. Naturally I wanted her to speak with the doctor from Johns Hopkins who originally diagnosed me and recommended a watch-and-wait approach, so right then and there I called the other doctor to see what each would say about the other’s views. This was eye-opening. While the two doctors had told me completely different things when I met with them in person, when they were on the phone together, they sought to minimize their disagreement and make the other look good, putting professional courtesy ahead of thrashing things out to get at the best answer. Still, the differences in their views were clear, and listening to them deepened my understanding.
The next day I met with a third doctor who was a world-renowned specialist and researcher at another esteemed hospital. He told me that my condition would basically cause me no problems so long as I came in for an endoscopic examination every three months. He explained that it was like skin cancer but on the inside, if it was watched and any new growth was clipped before it metastasized into the bloodstream, I’d be okay. According to him, the results for patients monitored in this way were no different than for those who had their esophagus removed. To put that plainly: They didn’t die from cancer. Life went on as normal for them except for those occasional examinations and procedures.
To recap: Over the course of forty-eight hours, I had gone from a likely death sentence to a likely cure that would essentially involve disemboweling me, and then finally to a simple, and only slightly inconvenient, way of watching for abnormalities and removing them before they could cause any harm. Was this doctor wrong?
Dr. Glazer and I went on to meet two other world-class specialists and they both agreed that undergoing the scoping procedure would do no harm, so I decided to go ahead with it. During the procedure, they clipped some tissue from my esophagus and sent it to the laboratory for testing. A few days after the procedure, exactly a week before my sixty-fourth birthday, I got the results. They were shocking to say the least. After analyzing the tissue, it turned out there wasn’t any high-grade dysplasia at all!
Even experts can make mistakes; my point is simply that it pays to be radically open-minded and triangulate with smart people. Had I not pushed for other opinions, my life would have taken a very different course. My point is that you can significantly raise your probabilities of making the right decisions by open-mindedly triangulating with believable people.
Recognize the signs of closed-mindedness and open-mindedness that you should watch out for.