Cancer in Context

Scott Reid lost his wife to lung cancer 19 days after they were married. It has been 15 months since she passed away. She was 46 years old.  

“I still miss her more than anything,” says Reid, who has used his grief to energize his efforts to become a patient advocate in this months since his wife, Gail, died.  

Scott and Gail

Surviving for only a year with stage 4 lung cancer is not unusual. It’s a fact that weighs on the mind of a person like me, who got a stage 4 diagnosis last March.

“You read the statistics on lung cancer and you hope and pray your case will be the exception,” says Reid. “But as time goes by, you realize it’s not.”

His words send chills up my spine.

I don’t know when my end will come, but so far Gail’s story sounds a lot like mine. I also had good health through middle age, then wham! Diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer.

The other day, I received a $100 honorarium from a cancer research organization for participating in an interview conducted by a group called Patients Like Me.

It struck me that I ought to donate the money, and my initial thought was to give it to a charity set up for the treatment center where I am receiving care, MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. It also occurred to me to send it to The American Cancer Society, a mainstay of the cancer community.

Then I met Abby Milloy (pictured to the right), a “cancer navigator” for the Livestrong Foundation, which aids disadvantaged cancer patients by providing such necessities as help with insurance and free rides to treatment sessions. 

I’ve seen the same dentist, the same gynecologist and the same internist for years, even decades. They are competent, and nice enough. But I recently dropped my oncologist because, in part, I didn’t love him. And I need to. After all, my oncologist has my vulnerable life in his hands.

Before getting a cancer diagnosis in March 2013, I had no reason to believe I needed to like my doctors, let alone love them. As long as they were competent and honest, showed integrity and treated me with respect, I was content.  But cancer made me realize I wanted more from my oncologist than I got, a lot more.

I went to see him again not long ago after several rounds of treatment — four rounds of chemotherapy and some targeted radiation therapy. Then one summer day in his office, he told me what I dearly wanted to hear — – that my stage 4 lung cancer, which had spread to my brain and rib was, for all intents and purposes, in remission.

With the Obamacare rhetoric flying, the president of the nation’s leading cancer doctors’  group says worried cancer patients may be unnecessarily concerned. He has come to the view that Obamacare will be a boon for cancer patients, and a high-profile advocate for the controversial new national health care policy.

“I think what’s true for your average cancer patient is that nothing changes,” Dr. Clifford Hudis, president of American Society of Clinical Oncology (ASCO), told me recently. 

Hudis, who treats patients and is chief of Memorial Sloan-Kettering’s breast cancer program in New York, says some of his elderly patients who are covered by Medicare have confided dark fears to him.

The pink frosting on the stack of brownies at the hospital coffee shop last week was another reminder that October was breast cancer awareness month. Pink was everywhere. I wondered aloud to the barista what color the brownies would be for November, the month designated for lung cancer victims. She shrugged, and said nothing except that I owed a couple dollars for my coffee. 

About.com says the official color for lung cancer is pearl, clear, or white.

But I think the color of Lung Cancer Awareness month is pretty much a drab gray because lung cancer is so depressing. It kills more people in the United States than any other type of cancer, including breast cancer. The prognosis for lung cancer, the type I suffer from, is often grim. And to make matters worse, it lacks what I have come to think of as cancer chic—that hot pink color that festoons everything in October from NFL uniforms to the pink lights adorning the tops of Chicago’s high rise buildings.

Lung cancer is responsible for more than a quarter for all cancer deaths, and it kills about twice as many women as breast cancer, and almost three times as many men as prostate cancer. 

Apples

A good source of fiber and vitamin C. Most of the antioxidant power they provide comes from phytonutrients, or photochemicals, including Quercetin, a flavonoid that shows anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties. 

Blueberries

An excellent source of vitamins C and K, manganese and a good source of dietary fiber. They are among the fruits highest in antioxidant power, largely due to their many phytochemicals, including Anthocyanins, catechins, quercetin, kaempferol and other flavonoids, Ellagitannins and ellagic acid, Pterostilbene and resveratrol.

Cherries

Both sweet and tart cherries are a good source of fiber, vitamin C, and potassium. Tart cherries, but not sweet cherries or tart cherry juice, are also an excellent source of vitamin A. Cherries contain a variety of phytochemicals contributing both color and antioxidant activity. The fruit’s dark red color comes from their high content of anthocyanins, which are antioxidants Hydroxycinnamic acid and perillyl alcohol, a phytochemical from the monoterpene family, provide cherries’ antioxidant power.

A recent PET scan revealed cancer growth in one of my lymph nodes, a setback that means I get more chemotherapy.

My doctor characterized this as “a bump in the road” as opposed to “a major detour,” but the disappointment left me with an overwhelming feeling of losing control. I had thought the chemotherapy I got over the summer had kept the cancer at bay, but the results from the Positron Emission Tomography showed otherwise.

Within days of getting my test results, I came upon an article, published by MD Anderson in Houston, where I am being treated, that addressed the role of diet and cancer. I learned that that my vegetarian diet, which I’ve followed for more than 3 decades, might be tweaked and tailored to help fight my disease.

The day I got my cancer diagnosis was the day I relaxed my strict rule against allowing my dog Biko up onto my bed. A beautiful 6-year-old Rhodesian Ridgeback whose coat has a reddish tint and whose eyes are a rich brown, Biko nestled his 95-pound body next to me. He seemed to appreciate the luxurious linens, plush pillows and other creature comforts formerly denied him.

I hung my head over his outstretched body, my hair draped over him, and stroked his side, consumed by unremitting distress. As if imparting a secret, I whispered to him that I have cancer and said I feared he would outlive me. I told him I was sorry.

As hard as it was to utter those words, I could feel a psychological and physiological lift within me as I touched him and talked to him.

It’s noon and the lobby in the main building of the MD Anderson Cancer Center is buzzing. My appointment is over and I’ve got nothing to do. Houston’s heat is too much for a walk outside, so I linger.

The velocity of this place resembles Grand Central Station, but there’s far more emotion and fewer words. People are rushing, though many can’t keep up. Some are in wheelchairs, some with walkers, and some shuffle along, weakly. There are able-bodied patients like me, as wells as doctors, nurses, a vast support staff and an army of volunteers. 

A pretty young woman hurries down the hallway. She’s letting her hair grow back, the light brown fuzz still sparse, evidently indifferent to wearing a scarf or wig. Probably too hot. She can make this look work, thanks to her fit body, pretty eyes, fine features. 

Dr. Julie Park, a plastic surgeon specializing in breast reconstruction following cancer surgery, believes too many women with a cancer diagnosis are deciding too quickly to have both their breasts removed.

She’s troubled by the trend, which now includes women who are not among those who, like actress Angelina Jolie, have a genetic predisposition to the disease. Jolie publicized her decision in May in a New York Times editorial to have both breasts removed as a preventive measure.

The data on mastectomies show the procedure does not improve overall survival compared with women who undergo a lumpectomy, in which only the tumor and surrounding tissues are removed.