Waging a War With Cancer

   I saw my primary care physician for the first time since being diagnosed with lung cancer. He was in total and complete shock...seriously. He said in all of his years of being a doctor, even with people who smoke, he has never seen someone of my age have lung cancer and especially not Squamous Cell, Bronchioalveaolar, and Adenocarcinoma in both lungs. He wrote me a prescription for stronger anxiety medication, a wheelchair, and I got the application for a handicapped license plate. I am officially permanently disabled. He told me to let him know if there was anything he could do for me and he would do his best to get it accomplished. I love that man. He is so easy to talk to and his voice is so very calming.

   When I tell people that I have lung cancer, I make no mention of whether I smoked or not. Most people will ask me anyway. I view this as an opportunity to educate: nonsmokers get lung cancer too. But what if I had smoked? Would there be an awkward silence after my affirmative response? Would the air hum with an unspoken "You got what you deserved?"

   This is but one of the reasons why you hear lung cancer referred to as the cancer with a stigma. 

   When regarding a person who is morbidly obese, it is likely not uncommon to assume that they have failed to regulate self control when it comes to food consumption (whether or not that is actually the case). But how often does someone go up to them and ask, "did you eat too much?" Such restraint is not observed when talking to those of us with lung cancer. I feel compassion for everyone who shares my diagnosis, and I certainly don't believe anyone deserves cancer. 

   Cancer is a very serious illness and in many cases life threatening. Even if caught at an early stage and treated successfully, fears of recurrence can linger. Beyond that point though, cancers are not created equally and although there is no good cancer, some are indeed worse: offering less hope or perhaps promising more suffering. For instance, in my case, since there were no mutations present, I have to undergo both chemotherapy and targeted radiation...and I have to have radiation therapy on my brain to help limit the possibility that my cancer will spread to my brain.

   I am at war. This is not just a personal battle, but rather a fight waged against cancer by many, for many. As is inevitable in any war, there are casualties. But, perhaps, like those men and women who serve in the armed forces, I feel as if there is a greater meaning to what we are fighting for than our individual losses, and that makes me feel braver at those moments when I might indeed lose courage. 

   There was a time when I never could have imagined myself as a soldier. I certainly wouldn't have volunteered for service, but if you will, I was drafted. I have only been at this war for almost 3 months now, but it is one battle I am willing to wage. I have to beat the enemy.

   I had a bit of an emotional melt down this morning with KB. I cried on his shoulder for about five minutes...but like any good soldier, I picked myself back up and went on about my day. I cannot, I will not allow "It" to take over my emotions. I am fighting for all cancer warriors. We are allowed to cry. We are allowed to have our emotions turned upside down, but we are not allowed to stay down because that is when we let the cancer win.

   Cancer may have started this fight, but I WILL finish it!

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