San Francisco Dreamin'
21 September 2007
The Long Cold Shadow
We have been a very lucky family - so far. Cancer has not found its way to the vast majority of us living today. One notable exception might be one sister-in-law who has been (and still is) treated for a brain tumor. She is in her mid-sixties and her cancer is in remission. We are so very thankful.
A good friend and co-worker's family has not been so lucky. Two years ago his wife was having problems swallowing. The family was getting ready to take their yearly June vacation up north and she thought she'd better go to have it checked out by the doctor. X-rays and scans detected the devastating tendrils of a cancer seeking her vocal chords. I remember talking to Joe about it. We were in his office shooting the breeze about this and that. Neither of us talks much about our personal lives outside of bragging rights about our kids. We have mutual friends, but Joe and I don't socialize. Different circles, and all that. But, I like Joe a lot. He's one of the Good Guys. So, I stepped over the boundary separating work and home and asked,
You know that's not the end of the story, right?
So then, earlier this year, the cancer reared its head anew. This time its tendrils were wending their way into her chest. By late spring, Joan couldn't walk fifty feet without stopping to rest. I asked Joe why that was?
Joe and I were working again together one afternoon early last week. We had been working through an engrossing problem. Finally, as we relaxed and chatted a bit, I realized it was late afternoon and his calendar had said that he would be away that afternoon. He has been taking Joan to UCSF every two weeks for treatment - this was supposed to the day they went back into the City. So I asked him what was up?
Cancer casts a long, cold shadow.
A good friend and co-worker's family has not been so lucky. Two years ago his wife was having problems swallowing. The family was getting ready to take their yearly June vacation up north and she thought she'd better go to have it checked out by the doctor. X-rays and scans detected the devastating tendrils of a cancer seeking her vocal chords. I remember talking to Joe about it. We were in his office shooting the breeze about this and that. Neither of us talks much about our personal lives outside of bragging rights about our kids. We have mutual friends, but Joe and I don't socialize. Different circles, and all that. But, I like Joe a lot. He's one of the Good Guys. So, I stepped over the boundary separating work and home and asked,
"Hey Joe. How is your wife doing?"He looked at me for a moment. His look was tinged with a small bit of sadness, wariness, and a measure of grace.
"Well, we've got a date for surgery. The doctors say it will be tricky, but they think they can get most, if not all of the cancer. It's twining itself around Joan's vocal chords. The worst of it is that they don't know if she'll be able to talk after all is said and done."Fast forward a bit. Joan's voice did come back, if a bit raspy and without a lot of volume. By Christmas things were looking up. Maybe the surgeon did get it all. He said he couldn't be sure. There might be some bits left behind, because of the vocal chords he couldn't cut everything away without paralyzing them.
You know that's not the end of the story, right?
So then, earlier this year, the cancer reared its head anew. This time its tendrils were wending their way into her chest. By late spring, Joan couldn't walk fifty feet without stopping to rest. I asked Joe why that was?
"The cancer has started wrapping itself around her aorta."I stared at him in disbelief. How can that be? The surgeon wasn't able to get all of the cancer, and it had started growing again. Kaiser sent them to a cancer treatment center about 40 miles from here. They had never seen this kind of cancer and wouldn't even attempt to treat her. Next, they tried UC San Francisco. Chemo-therapy and radiation were on the menu - but it was difficult find a good combination. Thankfully, Joan improved with each treatment. She could walk around the block, play with the kids, cook and sometimes even drive them to school. In short, she had her life back again.
Joe and I were working again together one afternoon early last week. We had been working through an engrossing problem. Finally, as we relaxed and chatted a bit, I realized it was late afternoon and his calendar had said that he would be away that afternoon. He has been taking Joan to UCSF every two weeks for treatment - this was supposed to the day they went back into the City. So I asked him what was up?
"We were supposed to go to UCSF today, but there was no point. They said the treatment is no longer working. It's growing again."Their struggles continue. I am reminded of that saying, "There but for the grace of God goes I." I cannot imagine what it must be like to being in the great shadow of death. On the one hand, it is a gift of sorts. You can choose to live with meaning and purposefulness - but you live knowing you may not see your children grow into adults. You cannot live fully for the pain and weakness. Chilling.
Cancer casts a long, cold shadow.
Labels: illness
posted by Tawanda at 2:50 AM
|
<< Home