Monday, February 25, 2008

Chapter 30

Cancer is vicious and underhanded. But in Alex’s case, it just waltzed through the front door and settled in. Innocuously, she could not shake the aftermath of the flu. It was only normal that her breathing and stamina would be affected, but after she wimped out of three tennis dates, and after a month of failed antibiotics and escalating hoarseness, her family physician ordered another chest x ray, and then a CAT scan.
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It took less than a week before Alex was referred to an oncologist, “There’s some concern, it’s not clear, let’s play it safe”—the doctor had said. “He’s the expert. Let’s see what he has to say.”
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With more work-ups and less assurances, Alex and Mike spent an impossible and short- fused weekend driving Amy to her dance lessons, dropping Andy and his friends off at the movies, shopping, fixing dinner, puttering, making love, making small talk—keeping their hands and minds busy—until Monday morning at 8 am, when they sat across from Dr. Mark Chambliss, Chief Oncologist at the New England Cancer Institute.
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“Mr. and Mrs. Fournier, I’m sorry to confirm it is lung cancer”, Dr. Chambliss said.
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Neither fear nor faith can protect a person from certain news. Defenseless, Alex and Mike both gasped. Alex instinctively put her hand across her mouth, as if to hold back a horrid bile.
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‘How many times has he said these words to how many other people?’, she thought. And whatever he would say next, how many of those other people lived, survived, thrived after this moment and this day that they could never, would never, forget?
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“We’ll treat it with a combination of radiation and chemotherapy. I’d like to begin next week.
You'll need to start on some medication before then, and we'll give you some help for anxiety and nausea.”
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Alex stared at Mike and then down at her clenched hands, which had ripped the wad of Kleenex she was holding to shreds. Mike was sitting straight up, military style, and chaulk white.
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“Whoa. Jesus. What stage is it, Dr. Chambliss?”, she asked.
'
“It’s stage 3”.
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Alex and Mike knew what this meant. Still, she stared at this physician with the cropped grey hair and John Lennon glasses and said, “What are my chances? I want to know”.
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“Well”
the doctor said, “25% of patients with stage 3 lung cancer survive two years or more. There’s no reason you can’t be in that 25%." He paused, looking to Alex and Mike for how much information they really wanted.
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“Look” he said, “I just saw a patient who was diagnosed four years ago. She’s in remission and feeling fine. It’s not always that way, but you’re young, strong, feisty. It’s non small cell lung cancer in a single site. We can treat this, Alex. We will treat this. You’re not a candidate for surgical resection so we’ll go in with radiation therapy in combination with chemotherapy. You’ll feel terribly sick, you won’t be the bell of any balls, but we’ll aim to knock it out.”
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In an instant, stunned and stupefied, without sound or movement, a primitive wailing moan rose from deep deep inside Alex's head . “Oh Amy, Oh Andy, Oh Mike, Oh Mom and Dad, Oh Lily.”. it cried, “Oh Lily, oh Lily, oh Lily.”

9 comments:

  1. "Neither fear nor faith can protect a person from certain news."

    KJ this is so well written, so close to life and real in every way.

    In a personal way this one touched me more than any of the other posts because there was not one iota of it that did not hit home.

    Bravo!

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  2. miladysa, i wish it were not so for you. may i ask if everyone is doing ok now? i so hope so.

    your words mean so much to me. we writers inspire one another...

    xo

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  3. KJ - My grandson received the three years all clear on 24th January 2008! *grin*

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  4. miladysa, GRIN, DOUBLE GRIN!

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  5. What a scene ... so well written, KJ ... it left me feeling like I was there hearing the news with them. Whew. That last paragraph brings it home ...

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  6. Well done. I sometimes wonder why it takes someone finding out they are going to die, to really think about how they really want to live.
    We are all going to die and the truth is, none of know when, so why not live that way now?

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  7. What a treat, after a long day, to read this. Subject matter aside, this was very well written and felt true to life.

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  8. Awesome line.."waltzed through the front door and settled in"

    It's so scary...so matter-of-fact, that it IS happening. Very difficult to contemplate because it feels so personalized.

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  9. OH the last line! I so agree with what Red Mojo said!

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