Going Head Over Heels with Cancer

PART TWO - a five-minute read

According to the American Cancer Society, there will be an anticipated 2,001,140 new cases of cancer here in the United States, during 2024. As I revealed in my most recent post, this abstract statistic has just come to life, as it now includes my wife and soulmate.

To our surprise, we’ve encountered quite a steep learning curve. So, I’d like to share some of our observations and thoughts. They just might be helpful to someone down the road.

First, for a little context, neither Emily nor I were strangers to the ravages of cancer. We’ve both lost best friends to the disease and my mother succumbed to its merciless tentacles before either of our grandchildren were born. It’s just never been so up front and personal.

Yellowstone back-country on one of our first dates

THINGS THAT JUST WEREN’T ON OUR RADAR

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No two cancer experiences are the same

This observation cannot be overstated! My wife was told within five minutes of meeting her oncologist that "you have stage 4 cancer.” Translation: the cancer is widely metastasized and not likely to ever go away. Some people may not hear those words for many years after their diagnosis, if at all. That might sound bad but having been in medicine for more than three decades, I have to clarify with a tiny bit of medical parlance - “It really sucks!”

There is such a broad spectrum of ways in which the cancer can first reveal itself. For some it might be a suspicious looking, small mass on an x-ray. For a small percentage of “special” people, such as my wife, there’s more of a barrage of nastiness.

As her husband, I’m not going to downplay the CT visual or the gravity of her physician’s confirmation of the extent of her disease. I am saying that all things considered, we’re grateful for every day that she gets to enjoy. We have a strong marriage and an honest relationship that has weathered some tough tides, but this is more like your “hundred-year storm.”

Emily, over a lifetime, has developed a remarkable level of spirituality which certainly softens her response to this unpleasant news. It also translates to a heightened resilience, optimism and tolerance regarding the ever-present unknowns of her situation. In no way should this suggest that she’s not currently committed to doing whatever she can to “be here” for all of her extended family and loved ones. She’s just more “OK” than some others might be in her situation.

Early on, the unknowns are everywhere

What is it? Where is it? How bad is? Why did she get it? What’s the next test and how soon can we get it . . . and the results? Who should we tell since there are so many questions for which the only appropriate answer is - “We don’t know?” It’s only natural to want to share such news with loved ones, but during the first couple weeks the recurrent barrages of unanswerable questions had us reassessing the benefits of waiting to inform the key players in our lives.

At least in our case, there was a frenzied effort on the part of her healthcare team to get tests and results as soon as possible because Emily was obviously way behind the eight-ball. We’re deeply grateful for all of their expediency, but almost daily out-of- town appointments, tests, scans, biopsies or procedures over three weeks left no time for processing, not to mention the typical day-to-day stuff that rolls by like a tank.

Time to merely sit down in a lawn chair, with or without a beer, became a luxury.

The ever so human - “Why me?”

Though Emily and I briefly entertained that question (LOL), we quickly came to an agreement that the more relevant question might be - “Why not me?”

Chronic irritants, and toxic chemicals of countless varieties are suspect regarding cell mutations, and we’re exposed to dozens if not hundreds of them every day. Take a close look at the pollutants in our drinking water, the long list of chemicals in a random box of anything off a grocery store shelf, or the composition of the particulate matter that drifts in from raging forest fires. How many carcinogens are we subjected to on a regular basis? A dozen parts per million might be all that it takes to rattle our cellular status quo.

Living a healthier lifestyle, eating a plant-based diet, getting regular age-appropriate exercise, and the maintenance of an ideal weight all seem to increase the odds of living a longer life, but there are no guarantees. Life is indeed a crap shoot. Though we agree that getting the odds in our favor is a worthwhile goal, we were reminded that we shouldn’t bet the farm on anything.

Everyone would approach this challenge differently -

and that’s fine.

Not surprisingly, we’ve gotten some advice by predominantly well-intentioned acquaintances. I make the distinction because people who know and respect us typically have a fairly good understanding of our skill sets, priorities and values. An example would be our reverence for evidence-based medicine.

With something as complex as this fast-growing, well-established cancer, a fully credentialled, compassionate expert has our undivided attention. There are no double-blind, randomized, placebo-controlled studies for any of the available treatments of our star patient in this setting. We’re relying on Emily’s oncologist and the multidisciplinary team of physicians he collaborates with to get the most favorable results.

We’re also acknowledging that sometimes there just aren’t any good options, but playing games with an aggressive monster rarely ends well.

Emily and I are both on the same page that the degree to which any patient wants to “fight” cancer is very much a personal issue based on their specific variables and priorities.

Kindnesses expressed were, and are, like a gentle rain

As I was typing this, I was pleased to be “interrupted” by a friend from church “just” checking in. We really appreciate the friends, neighbors, relatives and family who push past the awkwardness to just see how we’re doing or send messages of support. The same goes for my friends here on Substack - your big-heartedness is likewise refreshing. Each effort lightens our load a little bit and nourishes us as we strive to set a different kind of roots.

So many people have it worse!

We’ve been blessed to have each other, a loving family and a mostly supportive extended family, a roof over our heads, and a committed and compassionate care team. So many people with a new cancer diagnosis are not so fortunate. Many are not in a position where they can dig into retirement savings to whittle away at the endless medical bills. We’ve discovered that Medicare and our advantage plan have been wonderful, covering more than 90% of the $128K bills accrued over the first few months.

Most importantly, we’ve been particularly grateful that Emily has been feeling well and continues to enhance her native plant and pollinator gardens.

And we’re paying more than lip service to the concept of - living one day at a time. I think we’re going to head off and do some kayaking and then maybe take in a fish-fry.