Cancer Sidelines

Last night I read the cover story of this week’s Newsweek. Though organized in a way that is shamelessly supportive of Democrat presidential hopeful, John Edwards (whose wife’s reoccurring cancer demonstrates a textbook case of the private becoming political,) the article written by Jonathan Alter and entitled “How I Live With Cancer” was mainly a well-written, if not newsy account of Alter’s struggle with mantle cell non-Hodgkins lymphoma.

Despite the politics, Alter’s story of survival resonated often with my fight against Multiple Myeloma (another blood cancer,) except that when Alter discovered his cancer it was already at a deadly stage. As for me, I am only in danger of dying much later in life than sooner; that is, though I do not accept it, my life may be shortened by Multiple Myeloma. For this reason, my prognosis is deemed very good.

My protocol for survival, though not a cure, is clear: three rounds of chemotherapy and steroids, then a transplant or two. After weathering with few side effects the chemo and steroids, it took six weeks in Houston’s MD Anderson to complete the first transplant. I have just completed it, and I’m going home to Frisco the day after Easter. The only reason to return to Houston again: check-ups and, perhaps, an allogeneic transplant.

Alter’s protocol was similar to mine. He, too, went through some rounds of chemotherapy, though at a higher dose. And he, too, went through an autologous transplant with the same high-dose chemo I endured only weeks ago, which left me and Alter (apparently) without an immune system for a while, hairless and wobbly. He was admitted to the hospital, nonetheless, whereas my transplant was done on an outpatient basis. I still must avoid crowds whose minor diseases and infections could sicken or even kill me.

Despite the similarities between Alter’s story and mine, it’s true that his story, as he writes, “…isn’t typical, because none is. Every patient reacts differently, both biologically and psychologically. The only constant in cancer is inconstancy” (32).

For its preponderance of true, I recommend the story. The link for the story will work all this week; it is http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17888476/site/newsweek/. I love Alter’s daily recovery plan he calls Herman. It is the same as mine.

H stands for humor.

E stands for exercise.

R stands for religion.

M stands for meditation.

A stands for attitude. (He has a lot to say about this one.)

N stands for niceness to his family (not as easy as it sounds.)

Alter also writes about his decision to be candid about his cancer. “I decided early not to keep my cancer a secret. I felt enough stress already without trying to figure out who knew and who didn’t,” Alter writes (33). I agree that telling others reduces stress, but not for the same reasons Alter states. For me, telling others was a choice inspired by the idea that things brought into the light have less power over me and can, therefore, be defeated. In spite of this openness, Atler decided to keep “the prognosis under wraps for fear that people would pity [him] or write [him] off.” Then he writes of a phenomenon I’ve experienced quite a few times already and even very recently. “…I knew,” writes Alter, “that for all the new openness about cancer, sick people still get sidelined” (33).

“Sidelined” is an excellent word for it. While I know that I am loved by family and friends more than I ever really allowed myself to know before, I have also been sidelined by family and friends. The phenomenon reveals the unpretty, narcissistic and even instinctual underside of human nature that inspires some (and I include my own past behavior) to ignore, marginalize or flee those with cancer or sickness. For, I have been both preyed on and ignored in waiting rooms, classrooms and hallways. And I’ve been told to stay away because my presence, it was reasoned, may bring the spectacle of “crisis”. I am avoided, walked around and seen as symbol of death—even a representative of others who (sadly) died of cancer.

Imbedded in Alter’s article is a reflection by the patron saint of cancer survival, Lance Armstrong. Here, he makes many statements I can agree with, some that I cannot. One I agreed with in particular says something that’s haunted me since I had a steroid-induced experience back in December:

“It’s clear that the way we battle cancer is deeply at odds with our values as a country, and with our common sense. There is a serious gap between what we know and what we do; what we deserve and what we get; what should be and what is” (37).

But that is a topic for another blog. Meanwhile, bless you Jonathan Alter for making me feel less alone. The article helped me to remember my struggle against this thing is not solitary. There are others, and I can gain strength from them just as others have gained strength (I hope) from me.