Healing
Without Daily or Even Monthly Anti-Cancer Actions, We Balance Between Being Declared Free of Cancer and Recurrence
Last week while in New York, I had lunch with a friend and colleague who is also living with prostate cancer. Like me, her husband is also battling metastatic disease and is living through hormone deprivation therapy. Our thoughts, fears and frustrations are strikingly similar. She expressed dismay at how some folks unwittingly minimize her husband’s reality by repeatedly reminding them how good he looks. If he looks well, he must be well, right? But, as the old adage goes, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. It’s not knowing with certainly what’s happening or not on the inside that defines and complicates our journeys. We move forward without the comfort of being told we are cured. We remain one step away from a rising PSA number and are left to wonder if our androgen deprivation therapy (ADT), with all of its side effects, will be beneficial.
Now that I am finished with radiation, my wife and I are forced to live in a realm of percentages and I am feeling the added loss of not having a more active routine to ward off my cancer’s potential progression. Yes, if my team of medical experts were able to target and kill each of my cancer cells, I am indeed cured. But now, and for the next four and a half years, the chances are greater that my cancer will recur. We have no way of knowing for sure the outcome. ADT is only a palliative treatment capable of slowing cancer growth and disease progression if there are cells remaining.
This reality puts patients and the or families on an emotional tightrope, balancing between moving forward with hope while flirting with the chance of falling into undesired perils. The questions persist… Will I become resistant to the hormone treatment…? When might I see my PSA number rise once again…? And, the worst one… Will medication side effects ultimately give way to cancer’s primary effects?
My friend did tell me that every quarter, when she and her husband learn that his PSA remains “imperceptible,” they spend a few days dancing around the house singing that magic word to the tune of “Unforgettable.” I plan on adopting the tradition. Not only do we like the song, I like the ritual. I hope to perform it four times every year going forward.
Living on the ropes. This is is living with cancer.
Last week while in New York, I had lunch with a friend and colleague who is also living with prostate cancer. Like me, her husband is also battling metastatic disease and is living through hormone deprivation therapy. Our thoughts, fears and frustrations are strikingly similar. She expressed dismay at how some folks unwittingly minimize her husband’s reality by repeatedly reminding them how good he looks. If he looks well, he must be well, right? But, as the old adage goes, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. It’s not knowing with certainly what’s happening or not on the inside that defines and complicates our journeys. We move forward without the comfort of being told we are cured. We remain one step away from a rising PSA number and are left to wonder if our androgen deprivation therapy (ADT), with all of its side effects, will be beneficial.
Now that I am finished with radiation, my wife and I are forced to live in a realm of percentages and I am feeling the added loss of not having a more active routine to ward off my cancer’s potential progression. Yes, if my team of medical experts were able to target and kill each of my cancer cells, I am indeed cured. But now, and for the next four and a half years, the chances are greater that my cancer will recur. We have no way of knowing for sure the outcome. ADT is only a palliative treatment capable of slowing cancer growth and disease progression if there are cells remaining.
This reality puts patients and the or families on an emotional tightrope, balancing between moving forward with hope while flirting with the chance of falling into undesired perils. The questions persist… Will I become resistant to the hormone treatment…? When might I see my PSA number rise once again…? And, the worst one… Will medication side effects ultimately give way to cancer’s primary effects?
My friend did tell me that every quarter, when she and her husband learn that his PSA remains “imperceptible,” they spend a few days dancing around the house singing that magic word to the tune of “Unforgettable.” I plan on adopting the tradition. Not only do we like the song, I like the ritual. I hope to perform it four times every year going forward.
Living on the ropes. This is is living with cancer.