I’ve learned much, the past couple of months, about the battle against cancer.
For one thing, it’s not a battle, it’s a war and wars are won by winning a series of battles.
Mobilizing for war is arduous especially
while defending against an unexpected attack. It takes clear thought to the
goals and what will be lost if one doesn’t win. There’s the cost of fighting a
war, mentally, physically, psychologically and monetarily. One leaves behind ‘normal’ life and has to
focus everything on fighting and winning the war. It becomes the daily
existence. One has to channel funds into getting the best weapons and equipment,
assembling a strong motivated fighting force, and have a good knowledge base of
the enemy and its goals. Not an easy task. The initial euphoria after an attack
often wears thin and so keeping the reasons and goals for fighting the war to
begin with, needs to be kept to the forefront of everyone’s mind. Then it’s
hunkering down for the long haul and fighting to win.
Somewhere along the line I lost sight of
parts of that mobilization process. I was unexpectedly attacked and I mustered
up what was needed initially. Mindset, support group, funds to deal with travel
and tests. I was armed but it was only the first of the battles that needed to
be faced and although there were skirmish victories my mind lost sight of the
long haul. And it’s daunting.
I think one of the problems is I’ve had several
surgeries in my life. Usually, after a surgery for a particular thing, the mind
then faces the healing process (like rebuilding after a war). In this instance,
the removal of the tumor was successful. Pathology indicated that all was clean
in the breast. Lymph nodes all clear. My mind leaped right past the concept of
war and focused on the battle won and onto healing...wrong. It was only the
initial battle. Yes, I won that series of battles but the war was by no means
won.
This trip to CTCA was very intense. I had a
list of questions and one of those questions had to do with further treatment.
See, everything was healing. Pathology showed all clear, so why did I need
chemo or herceptin? I brought my page of questions forward and got back several
pages of answers and much more information for the war beyond this initial
series of battles.
We went back to the preliminary findings
and again defined the cancer I’m facing—Her2 positive, grade II, stage II—highly
invasive and consequently fast growing and with a penchant for stray cells to
migrate to other places and basically homestead. Without proper treatment this
cancer will come back and even more
aggressive than it was initially. I was given a clearer picture of what it
takes to conquer this particular type of cancer and what weapons I will need to
win the war.
Scary stuff.
Countries gearing up for war can divert resources
from existing assets and/or increase taxes to fund it. I have no one to tax and
only a limited amount of funds to divert and yet there is no question that if I
want to live and win this war, I have to go forward. On the plus side I do have
very good insurance. On the negative side the co-pays are going to hurt
financially. Then there is travel, daily food, and lodging that must be taken
care of over the next eighteen months. This war is going to be expensive.
Just like soldiers and civilians in a war,
I want normal life back. Well, that’s not going to happen for awhile. There is
much in between the victory in these initial battles and eradicating the threat
and demolishing the enemy. All the wishing in the world isn’t going to make
this cancer go away as quickly as I want it to.
All I can do is have courage and move
forward, keep my spirits up, and focus on demolishing the enemy. To do that I
have to hunker down for the long haul.
And it will be a long haul.
