Cancer Weekly

Cancer is a threat to everyone. Though heart disease, diabetes, and gout will more likely be diagnosed because of my genetic disposition, I can’t be sure. On the upside of the cancer fight, I am more prepared for an overabundance of cells than most. I have heard stories like Rhio O’Connor’s and they remind me of the tenacity and dedication of my father, Michael, and my late sister, Aurora, who were both diagnosed with cancer.

I gawked, as a child, at Aurora’s fight. She had Hodgkin’s lymphoma and decided that chemotherapy was the best weapon against metastasis, and for years, she pressed on, growing her hair and letting it fall. It was too much, though. The chemotherapy didn’t let her live as a person and she gave up on the chemicals. She died not long after.

My father, on the other hand, had two bouts of treatable, removable cancer when I was nine, and then again when I was sixteen. It was expunged out of his bladder first. The second round, though, was harder with half of a lung removed and chemotherapy on top. He lacked energy and nearly the will to live. Surgical recovery is nothing compared to suddenly not having the ability to taste. He’s still standing, my father.

Rhio O’Connor is a shining example of knowing the facts while ignoring the myths. He outlived his incurable cancer, mesothelioma, by six years and did so with an optimistic fervor, a nose in the books, and an earpiece to the doctors he thought he could trust most. His, Aurora’s, and my father’s fight, I have had to figure my game plan ahead of time. Cancer can strike at any time, as I’ve learned. Preparedness be thy name.

I have health insurance. I am diagnosed with cancer and it’s terminal. Here’s my plan:

First, I’ll find out what kind of cancer it is, how long I’ve had it, what I did to get it, and which are the most common treatments. This information will be most likely found during the initial diagnosis, or a several weeks after.

I will mourn for a week to get it out of my system. All disorders are psychosomatic, in the sense that if one believes that one is sick and helpless, a hormonal imbalance will be created and symptoms could worsen. I will therefore tell myself every day that I will be alive the next day and I will do all I can stay alive, focusing daily on the fact that I exist and how grateful I will be for seeing the sun and smelling the leaves.

I will then find out if there is an easy fix. I will consult my general practitioner for any colleagues he has or had that specialize in the type of oncology that relates to my cancer. I will consult this (or these) doctor(s) about my diagnosis. If I can have it excised, I will, immediately.

My new oncologist will be my center for information until I branch out, elsewhere. The doctor will inform me about the best clinics and hospitals, the medical journals and quarterlies that are most trustworthy, and the names and address of other oncologists. The doctor will also be the first reliable opinion regarding my chances of survival. With names and titles and places, I will begin to make calls to other doctors with a list of my symptoms always at hand. I may travel, but depending on the cancer, the action may be ill-advised.

According to the advice of the doctors, I will begin to look into which treatment will fit my cancer best. Radiation and chemotherapy are not out of the question, but if I can work with my immune system, or use angiogenesis inhibitors, I will. I will try any trial drug, as long as it is advisable under the consideration of my oncologist crew.

I will look into alternative medicine and dietary guidelines to be used as complementary while Western practices are administered. I will read as many articles as exist on the subject of negative synergy between nontraditional and Western medicines so I will be sure that I will not do more harm than good. I will also start praying more.

At this point, where I have intensely educated myself about my cancer, I will have reflected upon why I have this cancer. If my behavior can change so that I will not get the cancer a second time, if I survive (when I survive), I will do all I can to live better because of it. That’s one of the things I’ve noticed about cancer: it has the ability to change the way in which people live and see life. It is the same for many near death experiences, but I believe cancer is a more potent, more powerful wake up call, I will make sure that I change myself.

I will have chosen my treatments and my diet by this time, two or three months after my diagnosis, and I will have much haste to begin. If the quality of life changes for the better, I will continue my regiment until the cancer is gone or I am bankrupt. If I lack the money to support my medical needs, I will write letters to philanthropists, in hopes that one does not take pity, but instead sees the benefit of human life.

If the diagnosis does not improve, or worsens, I will restart the process with my oncologists. If I die from trial drug or a poor synergy or uncontrollable malignancy, it will be recorded so the next person to be diagnosed will know what not to do. I will not die of a lack of hope though. I have no reason to accept that I will not live forever until I die.

My sister died because of not knowing about her cancer, first, and second, not knowing about the other treatments. Chemotherapy is not a be all and end all medical miracle and neither are any of the other treatments. Rhio O’Connor, in spirit, and my father, in body, live on to the testament that rigorous study and edification about one’s disease or disorder can elongate a life. It’s the more one knows that beats cancer.