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MAW Cancer Chronicles #19:
The support team


25 years ago, at about this time of year, while anxious over finishing my Ph.D, I found out that I had cancer and was well into the middle of my six cycles of chemotherapy.


Previous entries have focused on the technical and scientific aspects of treatment. In this installment, I wish to discuss the human elements of having cancer. Specifically, the support team one needs to fight cancer, how it feels to have cancer and interact with the world, and how to interact with someone who has cancer. A lot of what I have to say is is dependent on the prognosis one has. A good prognosis leads to a smoother treatment, outlook, and social interactions. One who is really fighting cancer will have more serious issues. Those with terminal cancer will be going through a much tougher experience. I can only write from my viewpoint as a lymphoma patient with early stage, and highly curable cancer. This is a more serious post, but I end it with the role of humor as a coping mechanism.


First and most important, find the best medical care that you can afford. A comprehensive cancer center is best such as Dana Farber (Boston), Sloan Kettering (New York), or Fox Chase (Philadelphia). These places have doctors who treat and study cancer every day. There is a lot of redundancy and checks and balances. The support staff, oncology nurses, instrument technicians, and others are used to dealing with cancer patients and they are specially trained. I got nothing but professional and courteous service at Dana Farber. Knowing that those who are treating you are competent does well for ones piece of mind. Also, ask a lot of questions. These are the people with all the answers.


I am fairly independent, an introvert, and a bit of a loner, but I did not go through cancer alone. My family, my labmates, my church family, and my research supervisor were all very supportive of me. I generally like doing things for myself, but during tough times I learned to accept the kindness of friends. Bad times so often brings out the best in us. The only service that I did not use, that in retrospect would have been most likely helpful, especially in the recovery phase was counseling which was available at Dana Farber. If one has cancer, and the disease runs its course, it always ends in death. That is a lot for any one to think about, especially one who is relatively young, in my case 27 years old. I have since concluded that seeking help in such a situation is not weakness. I was blessed by a thesis supervisor who allowed me to skip the labwork, and focus on getting well. My friends and family were very supportive and tried to include me in activities when ever possible, but understood when I was just too tired.


The hardest situations for me was dealing with casual acquaintances and strangers. When one is undergoing aggressive cancer chemotherapy, the pallor and hair loss one usually experience is a clear outward sign of the disease. It is clear that a person in this condition is sick. I noticed that some people would avoid me in the hallways. One insightful friend old me that I was a symbol to other grad students that being young and enthusiastic and at the start of one's career does not make one immune to tragedy. The sight of a sick person can be disturbing, and I learned to accept the discomfort in others faces.


How should you deal with a friend or someone you know with cancer? Another reason people avoid those with cancer is that they are afraid to say the wrong thing. A faux pas in conversation by a friend is generally not the worst problem in their lives so don't worry about fumbling your words. Inquiring shows you care, so that is a thoughtful start. Ask them how they are doing? You must be prepared for many different kinds of answers, though. This normal greeting becomes a different question than the way we use it in casual conversation. You should be aware that different people have different modes of coping with their condition. Some are private and don't wish to discuss it with anyone. Some will just say "I'm fine." or I'm as well as can be expected." and let the conversation die. Some like me would give you details of the their theory and treatment aand every ache and pain. You will have to use some judgement as to the person's temperament, and the seriousness of their condition. Little things to help like bringing a meal, or running an errand, or picking up a prescription can mean a lot for one who feels incapacitated. Keeping in touch with a visit, phone call or e-mail is appreciated. I can only speculate how my experience would have been different in the age of social media.


While cancer is certainly serious and going through chemotherapy can be depressing, all the other human emotions and feelings are still there. In my case, I found humor to be a valuable coping mechanism. In my reading, I have learned so called "gallows" humor is common in terminal patients. I made jokes about death and dying. My appearance was pretty funny. You take eyebrows for granted until you don't have any. I often would be so tired that I lost my train of thought. I have since learned that this is in part due to a condition called chemo-brain. I tended to be self deprecating a lot. My friends learned to laugh with me and make fun of me just like before I was sick. It may not make sense to describe this, but It sure was helpful at the time.


To summarize, even though someone who is undergoing chemotherapy may look like an alien, they are still fully human with all the ups and downs that entails. Connections can counteract the isolation of the feeling that it's me alone against cancer.


Stay tuned for more of the story.


(Cancer Chronicles is a series of status updates that account the events of 25 years ago when I went through a bout with cancer. Its purposes are multi-fold: catharsis, education, information, celebration, etc. )


This originally was posted to facebook November 26, 2012.
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