April 7, 2004

• This event is worthy of a journal entry and some deep thought, maybe even a revelation or two, but I am actually at a loss for much to say.  So, I just started writing here thinking that some suppressed or hidden emotion will emerge as I jiggle the brain cells to create a few sentences.  I have a disease called Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.  It is a type of cancer that has many sub-types.  The sub-type that I have is not curable at this time.  Once started down this path, life becomes a series of treatments and remissions.  Remission durations range from a few months to several years during which time one is constantly on the lookout for signs of relapse.  Since symptoms of the disease are ill-defined and are also symptomatic of other, more common ailments, one finds oneself quickly reduced to the paranoia state of hypochondria.   Prior to the original diagnosis and treatment I was one like many who flew along the highway of life using my body to get things done, thoroughly expecting it to keep up the pace, much the same as someone who drives a car for five years and never changes the oil.   Pains and fatigue were things to be endured as they were simply a nuisance and probably not indicative of any major problem.  I went to the doctor seldom, only when a particular symptom was getting in the way of accomplishing what I needed to do.  This approach led to a mode of operation in which the body’s signals and communiqués are tuned out rather than the more rational approach of trying to listen intently to the whirs and purrs of this all-important machine.  I listen for noises and perceive slight nuances in my car’s performance so that I might head off nuisance or even catastrophic breakdowns.  I know my car needs regular care and maintenance or it may leave me stranded on the highway.  Wouldn’t this same approach make sense for the system that…er…keeps me alive?   This state of blissful ignorance ended abruptly with the cancer diagnosis.

  
  

   

  
  

  I had a routine CT scan and Xray done on Monday and last evening my oncologist called at home and said that it was time for another treatment cycle.  There is constant development in the world of drugs and there have been some significant advancements in the seven years that I have been dealing with this.  The drug of choice now is called Rituxin.  It is effective in killing the cancer cells and is also designed to target only the cancer cells and not other cells in the body.  Big improvement!  (Note: this drug is only designed to work with B cell Non-hodgkins lymphoma).  I have had this drug during my previous relapse and tolerated it well and it yielded a three year remission.

  
  

   

  
  

  So, on a conscious, thoughtful level I am confident that the outcome this time around will be similar to previous episodes.  On a gut level however, I am shaken a bit.  If nothing else this is a reminder that this is the road I must follow into the future.  *** This may be the moment of ponderous thought***.  We all must learn to deal with the uncertainties in life, the idea that a life changing event is looming just around the corner for all of us.  Why is it less stressful to live within that condition than to live with a known malady of uncertain outcome?  Cancer is a paradox that brings with it a certainty of hardship while deriving its most trying aspect in the uncertainty of timing.  I am in the position of knowing that there is a significant chance that, at best, I will be disabled by this disease and its treatments or at worst die prematurely.  I have had the question posed to me, “isn’t everybody in this same predicament?”…a fair question.  Aren’t we all just an accident or a doctor visit away from finding ourselves in the same situation?  I have, obviously, been on both sides of this fence.  I have not always lived with active cancer.  It is a truism for me that I am more anxious about my future than I was prior to diagnosis.  Why aren’t we all stressed by the potential hammer blow that is poised above each head?  Is the lack of stress due to the fact that we all live with a feeling of safety from being one of the unfortunate “chosen ones”, “bad things always happen to the other guy”. Or, do we (even the more thoughtful among us) cling, in the deeper recesses of our minds to the notion that people who succumb to such disease must, in some way, be culpable.  This latter is a more fundamental human notion that lies at the heart of many social structures, both past and present.

  
  

   

  
  

  I think the answer has something to do with probability and possibilities, familiarity and the unknown.  What are the odds?  We are conditioned to constantly, unconsciously weigh the potential outcome of our actions.  We know that people die everyday on the highway, yet we continue to drive, we know people are killed en masse in terrible airline accidents, yet we continue to fly, we know that food additives lead to many modern ailments, yet we continue to buy our food at the local supermarket, etc.  These are familiar risks and we have tested the waters many times without slipping beneath the waves.  We can convince ourselves that the number of times we tempt fate is unrelated to statistical outcome.

  
  

   

  
  

  Guess I found something to ramble about after all.

  • 2:51 pm
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