My 21st Century Cancer Tour—so far

Or, My Life is Getting Stranger and Stranger…

 

I made it through more than 60 years in the 20^th Century with nary a cancer—that I know about. There were aches and pains, broken bones, minor surgeries, stitches from time to time, and all was good. 

The kids were born, grew up, and had kids of their own. Carol and I aged gracefully (that’s our story), and all was good.

But then came Y2K and, although there was no Internet meltdown, my cancer cells decided to assert themselves. They did it very quietly at first and grew in a secret place in my prostate. A doctor or two was sure it was curable and I agreed to have it removed. Later I had radiation therapy because it turns out the prostate cancer was not all removed or curable. For some years after that hormones of one sort or another kept those pesky cells in check—still growing but very slowly. And all was pretty good.

I have read a lot of cancer research and discovered that having one cancer greatly increased your risk of getting other cancers. Turns out that was true for me. In less than six months I was diagnosed with a nasty melanoma on my back (October 2014), a carcinoma on my leg (January 2015) and (also January 2015) cancerous growths were found in my beleaguered bladder (technically still prostate cancer). Minor surgeries and a bladder cystoscopy have removed all of these (more or less). Some may grow back after a while, I'm told. 

While I really don’t much care for cancer in any form, there is an upside. I am doing my share (and more) to keep Big Pharma in the chips, to keep doctors and nurses fully employed, to add interesting scars to my body, and to continue to live longer than anyone has a right to. And that’s all good, too.

axman

The Devil You Know…

My wife, Carol, and I have a long list of diseases and conditions between us. In most cases we have a diagnosis, explanation, and some sort of treatment that helps manage whatever it is. Not the way we prefer life, but a reality we can, and do, live with it pretty well.

 

So when Carol recently came down with something really nasty—headaches, earaches, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, no appetite, and extreme weakness—we were off to the doctor for a diagnosis and a time-tested treatment. It was not to be. 

After numerous tests at two medical clinics and a hospital there was general agreement about what wasn’t the cause. Her heart, lungs, liver, and other organs were fine. Good. Her condition was caused by a virus (we had our flu shots), probably. Adult Viral Syndrome was the consensus; maybe related to the newest flu strains. The treatment was unanimous—“Go home and take it easy and in a while you’ll feel better.” Kind of a helpless feeling. No pills, no procedures, no miracle injection. Just wait. Hard to do. 

I discovered that not knowing what to do and not knowing when she would get better, or worse, was difficult for both of us. I hovered a lot, made sure she had water and a warm blanket, and mostly was a useless onlooker. Eventually, after more than five weeks, she is getting better. 

Will it (whatever it is) come back again? Could it be worse? What can we do to prevent it? I guess I’ll need to learn more tolerance for the unknown. But I’ll always feel more comfortable with the diseases I know than those mysterious ailments that can come and go.

axman