The C-Word

Cancer is one of the scariest words in the English language. But not all cancers are alike, and medical science has made tremendous strides in diagnosing and treating some of them. There is cancer and there is Cancer. And then there is CANCER. In other words, in the absence of metastasis, some cancers, such as testicular cancer, are now very treatable. They even use the word cure in speaking of them, not feeling obliged to stop with the weaselly remission. The more serious Cancers, like leukemia, still claim too many lives, though not nearly as many, proportionally speaking, as they used to. 

And then there are the CANCERS, which still really, really need medical breakthroughs. Which is a polite way of saying they still kill most of their victims. These are cancers of the pancreas, liver, esophagus, brain, lungs, and ... mesothelium.

What's a mesothelium? (Who even knew they had one?) The mesothelium is the lining of various internal organs, including the lung, gut, and heart. The lining of the lung is called the pleura, making my kind of mesothelioma pleural mesothelioma, the most common kind.

I spotted this plushie at my oncologist's office.
I don' t know what animal it was, but I agree with the sentiments.

Another terrifying C-word of note just now is chemotherapy. The very word conjures up immense suffering, which is entirely understandable for a treatment that can trace its origins to the use of mustard gas during World War I. However, since its first uses—and even since I first became aware of it in the 1970s—chemotherapy has become more sophisticated and better targeted at the cancer rather than its victim, and treatments for side effects have likewise gotten much better. 

I start chemo tomorrow, along with immunotherapy, which aims to teach one's immune system that cancer cells are foe, not friend. I am frightened. But I am also eager to get started on fighting back. So far we have done fact finding, strategizing, and defense building, but not yet anything offensive. It's time to fight.

I will bring my headphones so I can listen to whichever of my three specially curated playlists (Peace, Joy, or Fight) I end up feeling I need. I'll bring a blanket and a book. And my loved ones (husband and grown daughter, only one of whom will be allowed in the room with me at a time, but who can spell one another). And, I sincerely hope, my courage.

Meanwhile, my port and I seem to be adjusting to each other's presence, so that's a win!