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Zero Risk is Never, Ever Possible
Over the last many weeks, many of you know that I have been going through chemotherapy. (You can read one of my posts here.)
When I learned that chemotherapy was recommended after having a single mastectomy, I was stunned; we’d detected the tumors early, they’d removed the breast, and the cancer had not infiltrated my lymph nodes. But according to one of the latest, most sophisticated tests (oncotype), I was at high risk of recurrence of breast cancer at my age. The oncologist explained that the “ideal” number of rounds of chemo would be six (every three weeks), but four would be “acceptable.”
At this point, I have completed three rounds. I know that there are many women who find the treatment very debilitating, and although I was miserable and unwell, it could have been worse. But my husband and I began to rethink the decision to go more than four rounds. What was the source of our hesitation?
First, I’m reluctant to rely primarily on the statistics of the test results. It doesn’t take into account my good health before breast cancer, and we are realizing that although statistics can be helpful, it’s just another way of guessing, or of making decisions. Second, although I haven’t yet shown any symptoms of peripheral neuropathy (tingling, numbness, or pain in the extremities), it turns out that those symptoms can appear after the chemo regimen is completed. How often does that happen? It’s unclear since little research has been done to determine the after-effects of chemotherapy. And if neuropathy occurs, it may or may not disappear over time.
So, I plan to set up an appointment with the oncologist as soon as I can. Clearly, he can’t make the decision for me about whether to continue, but I want to be sure I’m understanding as much as possible about the implications. Regardless of my decision, I still plan to get the fourth round of chemo, just to have the satisfaction that I met the “sufficient” measure of treatment. I will be interested in knowing the doctor’s thoughts on the difference between “ideal” and “sufficient.”
* * * * *
My husband and I keep reminding ourselves that medicine is a science and an art. There are never perfect answers; determining long-term results is essentially a crapshoot. And we will never know the degree of long-term damage my body has incurred that will never be recovered. But at 71, I care a great deal about the quality of life, and I believe I’m ready to move on.
Life never can have “zero risk,” but I’m ready to take my chances.
Published in Healthcare
May you have a blessed (virtual) gathering!
Wisdom is part of the process of surviving modern day ailments, and the fact that our medical people may or may not have the answers makes wisdom all that much more needed.
Unfortunately this need comes about just when our bodies and minds may contain more fear than usual.
Before I lost it, I meant to send you this little glyph the other day, a cartoon where a woman wearing a “Breast Cancer Patient” tee shirt is being offered by either a friend or an anonymous stranger a pitcher of organic goat’s milk and juniper berries, with an admonishment of “Add these to your diet and all will be well.” (!!??)
The tee shirt wearer looked understandably gob smacked in the final cartoon panel.
I can’t take my dog to a social day in the dog park without three people I barely know telling me on alternate Sundays, that my dog is underfed, over fed, or needs Element X to have a shinier coat.
I can only imagine the stress and weirdness of having cancer at this point in time.
You have been in my thoughts and prayers since you first posted the news. The world of Ricochet needs you here, as does your private world. As my mom used to say in the middle of my adolescent crises, and for some reason I always found it a comfort “What will be will be,” but in your case Susan, I sure as hell hope that nothing stops your being here for much much longer.
Thank you so very much! Fortunately, most people have kept their treatment suggestions to themselves.
Ultimately, your treatment is your own. Chemo and biologics aren’t without risk or damage. Sometimes the quality of life is more important than the numerical value. We try to help kill the cancer; but good tissue is often collateral damage.
I wish you the best in talking to the doctor. It isn’t just numbers and percentages. It’s how long before recurrence (if any) and how treatable even then. Why be so uncomfortable now? What’s the real benefit?
I will pray for your strength. Do what you need to do, whatever that is. Use your voice and explain exactly what you’re hoping to get out of treatment and ask your doctors to get that for you.