When I tell people I have cancer and am undergoing chemo, they always ask the same follow-up question: “How long do you have to do chemo?”
It’s a natural question, made even more understandable because of the number of cancers that can be cured. You often hear people talk about finishing chemo, celebrating being cancer free, or having survived cancer.
For me, though, it’s a reminder that not all cancers are curable, that some chemo is forever, that not all patients can look forward to celebrating a life free of cancer. My cancer (myeloma), while manageable, is not curable. At all. I will take drugs the rest of my life to keep it in check with my fingers crossed that they will never stop working, or that the cancer will not somehow mutate into something resistant to them (or that I will not lose my health insurance). My cancer will always get worse, never better. The rate of progress might be slowed by drugs, but the movement will always be forward. Inexorably, inevitably, irreversibly forward.
I don’t think of this as a problem – well, not a huge problem. A lot of cancers are much more virulent than mine, many people are diagnosed too late to even take advantage of chemo and, for some, their cancers require multiple, painful, often-unsuccessful surgeries. I am lucky to be able to avoid that – for now, at least.
What does my cancer future hold for me? Well, lots of chemo for one thing, a possible bone-marrow transplant down the line, and maybe even a kidney transplant at some point. But, right now, I’m managing my cancer, like (as one doctor put it) a chronic disease, akin to diabetes. Not fabulous, but not horrible. At least I don’t have to inject myself with insulin all the time.
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