I just wrapped up my time in West Virginia, returning home yesterday after what has been a fun, eye-opening year of locum work. Over the past year, I’ve had the chance to practice at different institutions — from my assignment in Montana to these last five months in West Virginia. Each place was temporary, yet the connections with patients, staff, and communities felt lasting. Even in short stays, you build relationships that make saying goodbye bittersweet. The following post is reflective of those thoughts. Now, as I look ahead, I feel both nostalgic for these chapters and excited for what’s next: currently doing locum in Orlando and joining AdventHealth as Director for Cutaneous/Connective Tissue Malignancies beginning December 1, 2025.
Practicing oncology has always been a calling. But in today’s politically charged environment, it can sometimes feel like a tightrope walk. Patients are overwhelmed with conflicting information. They’re bombarded by social media posts, podcasts, and headlines that often elevate anecdotes over evidence — sometimes even promoting outright misinformation.
I’ve learned that my role as a physician is to explain the diagnosis, discuss the evidence, lay out options, and document those conversations carefully. After that, it’s up to the patient. Their body. Their choice. I can’t (and shouldn’t) force them — but I can be present, consistent, and patient, even when their choices differ from what I recommend.
This past year, while working as a locum oncologist in West Virginia, I met a patient who reminded me how important that approach can be.
He was in his early sixties, newly diagnosed with non–small cell lung cancer. From the start, he was convinced he’d found an alternative path: ivermectin, mebendazole, and other remedies promoted online as “natural” cancer treatments.
I’ll be honest — my initial impression was that he would ultimately die because of his own ignorance, or at least because of the misinformation he had chosen to believe. I had seen enough of this in recent years to feel jaded, even biased. His disease seemed “advanced”, his options limited, and he was resolute. For two or three months, he pursued his own plan. Meanwhile, I continued to see him, review his labs, and order follow-up scans.
The scans confirmed what I feared: the primary lung cancer had grown. His pain was increasing.
That was the turning point. He sat across from me one day and, after reviewing the results, agreed to start chemotherapy combined with immunotherapy — the standard evidence-based treatment for his type and stage of cancer. In many ways, it’s a holistic approach: chemotherapy reduces the cancer burden, while immunotherapy works by enhancing the body’s own immune system to recognize and fight the tumor. Large clinical trials have demonstrated that this combination leads to better outcomes compared with prior traditional therapies alone. And yet, to date, you will never see influencers or TikTok’ers tout this level of evidence as they peddle misinformation on social media.
It wasn’t easy. He had side effects, including anemia and skin itching. At one point, he hesitated even to accept a blood transfusion. But with time and support, he began to recover his strength.
Then came the moment every oncologist hopes for — and one I’ll never forget. We sat together in the exam room, and I pulled up his scans side by side: the baseline images after months of alternative medicine, where the tumor had grown larger and angrier; and the most recent scans after chemo-immunotherapy, where that same tumor had shrunk by nearly 90%, reduced to the size of a marble.
I wanted him to see it with his own eyes — the truth inside his own body. There was a pause, and then almost a tearful disbelief. For the first time, he saw not only what modern medicine could achieve, but also the damage of the displaced-faith in the social media misinformation had caused him earlier.
In addition, what had once been labeled “unresectable” was now being re-evaluated for surgery. Biopsies of previously suspicious areas came back negative. This man, who had once seemed destined to go his own way and discounted by other specialities as advanced disease, now had a real chance at long-term survival with local resection or ablative options.
On my very last day in West Virginia, I saw him again. He was one of the final patients I cared for before leaving. He looked healthy, energetic, and — most importantly — hopeful. His daughter came with him, proudly saying how much better he looked compared to when he first started treatment 5-6 months prior.
As we initially talked, he even joked that maybe I had hoped I’d never see him again — a nod to just how difficult and reluctant he had been in those early days. He won’t admit, and I don’t expect he ever will, just how wrong he was about the misinformation that once guided his health choices. Nobody likes to admit they were wrong — and let’s be honest, we men have our egos. But the scans spoke for themselves. His body told the truth, even if his words never would.
That moment stayed with me. Not just because of his outcome, but because of what it represented.
I’ll admit, in the past I sometimes thought: these people will never change their minds. I’ve been disappointed by the political and public health landscape, where misinformation and mistrust make it harder than ever to help people. The current vaccines debacle is another example. But this patient reminded me that change is possible. He changed. And, in a way, so did I.
If we as physicians remain consistent, patient, understanding, gentle, and graceful — some patients will come around. They’ll choose evidence-based medicine. They’ll give themselves a chance at healing.
And maybe the same is true for us as a society. We can come around. We can choose what kind of community, government, and public health system we want — one built on mutual respect and consensus. It’s okay to disagree. What matters more is that we keep the dialogue open, listen with humility, and search for common understanding.
At the same time, I will stand unapologetically against ignorance. I will stand against misinformation. Compassion does not mean compromise with falsehood. Respecting choice does not mean accepting disinformation as equal to science… “two plus two will never equal five“.
This patient’s journey gave me hope — but as I reflect, I realize this past year in locum oncology has changed me even more. His story was about choosing evidence over misinformation; mine has been about choosing renewal over weariness, growth over cynicism, and strength over doubt. I’ve outgrown more than what any scan can measure — rediscovering my values in the third space, my resilience after a 14-year chapter at my previous institution, and my purpose in prioritizing family and health. That, too, gives me hope: that patients can change, that physicians can grow, and that even in a divided world, we can move forward with truth, compassion, patience, and courage. And perhaps most of all, it reminds me — despite my own initial bias and impatience — to keep believing that tomorrow can be better than today.
About the author
Dr. Sajeve Thomas is a distinguished medical professional and a compassionate guide in the field of oncology. With over a decade of dedicated experience as a board-certified medical oncologist/internal medicine specialist, Dr. Thomas has become a trusted expert in the treatment of melanoma, sarcoma, and gastrointestinal conditions. He brings a wealth of expertise to the complex and challenging world of oncology.
Disclosures:
Dr. Thomas serves as a speaker for Bristol Myers Squibb (BMS), Merck, Ipsen, Natera, Immunocore, Pfizer, and SpringWorks. He also receives industry grants in support of numerous clinical trials.