The good news is that the chemotherapy seemed to reduce my cancer somewhat and it appears that things are relatively stable right now. The bad news is that I did not receive the miracle I was hoping for, the one that Anita Moorjani (in her book "Dying to be Me") received when her cancer suddenly and unexpectedly went into remission, the one that Teresa Rhyne received (in her book "The Dog Lived and So Will I") when she beat her cancer, and the one that David Servan-Schreiber received (his book is "Anticancer"), a doctor and terminal cancer patient who beat the odds and has now been cancer free for almost 20 years. I think about all those lucky people who beat cancer and were featured in Kelly Turner’s book “Radical Remission”, and also those that did not, in the countless books and memoirs I have read over the past few months. I just re-read Gilda Radner’s memoir “It’s Always Something” and it made me sad.
In the meeting yesterday with my oncologist, we discussed the treatment options that are currently available, and those that might come into play once the current hormone treatments fail. We talked about a new drug that she may try, and also discussed what might happen over the next few months and years and what that may look like. Nothing I heard yesterday was a complete surprise, but I guess I was just hoping for that miracle.
The summer was good. We’re now into September and back to school and the regular routine. The kids are extremely excited to be back at school with their friends, and both are happy with their new teachers which is great. I’m still not feeling 100% although my last chemotherapy session was more than a month ago. Unfortunately my back pain has returned in what appears to be a re-occurrence of the spinal compression fracture issue that I had months ago. I’m back on the pain killers for now but hoping that this isn’t something that will persist as it did last time over many months. My hair is slowly growing back, and I’m especially looking forward to getting my nose hairs back so that I can stop this constant sniffling.
Up until last week, I was reading a most fascinating book called “The Emperor of all Maladies” by cancer physician and professor of medicine Siddhartha Mukherjee. It is essentially a “biography of cancer” (which is actually the book’s subtitle), a look at how cancer has been viewed, treated, and misunderstood over the years. At the same time, I also started reading “Being Mortal” by surgeon and author Atul Gawande whereby he confronts the realities of aging and dying in his patients and the limits of what he can do. Eleven months and dozens of cancer books and memoirs later, these seemed to be the perfect books for me to read at this time.
These books have changed the way I view cancer. They have also changed the way I view physicians and the way they interact with patients. In so many of the biographies and cancer memoirs I’ve read, the authors (patients) would list a myriad of complaints against physicians and hospital staff, beginning with objections to how the news that they have cancer was broken to them. I’m not saying that these complaints were not warranted, as I’m sure that many of them were, but I now look back at some of my own small complaints and feel that I think differently about them now.
How do you tell somebody that they have cancer? Is it possible to be completely compassionate and caring with each and every patient, every day, every year? As every individual is different, every doctor, cancer physician, and surgeon, is also different. This is what makes us human beings - unique individuals. Each has their own personality and special way of expressing themselves and dealing with issues. I don’t envy anyone that is assigned the task of breaking such news to a patient, and then communicating with them throughout their illness in such a way that they feel comfortable. Imagine how hard of a job a cancer physician or surgeon must have, each and every day full of life-changing decisions and high-stress situations. In addition to all of this, we expect them to play the role of psychologist and friend as well, which is a lot to ask. They are human, and I’m sure most do their best, but over the past few months my respect for them has continually increased. I feel lucky to have a great team of doctors/oncologists helping me through this, both at the Grand River Cancer Centre in Waterloo and here at Guelph General Hospital. I’m amazed at their professionalism and compassion.
As for the reading, I’ve had to put these most recent cancer books down for the moment as I feel I just need to take a break from it all. I think I might just take a break from a lot of things. Yesterday was a sobering reminder of my current reality. I feel sad and not particularly optimistic. I think about my kids all the time and the unfairness of the situation. I just may be all out of miracles. I’ve always tried to end my blog entries on a positive note, but today I’m not sure I can, and that’s just reality and the truth, so I think I’ll just leave it at that for now. Time to wipe my face dry, pick myself up off the floor again and get motivated.
Things will get better . . .
