I had my pre-chemo onc appointment yesterday and finally got the cajones to ask the statistic question.
You see, I've been deliberately avoiding the google, the scientific reads, the delving into the numbers of it all because I just didn't want to go there. But I asked Dr. A a seemingly safe question about having a bi-lateral versus single mastectomy and whether having a risk factor of a new cancer cropping up in the right being in the single digits really had any credence when I'm already in a fairly rare category.
She then told me, in so many soft-spoken words, that it's the cancer I have that I need to worry about, not the cancer I could get sometime in the next 60 years. There's still a possibility there could be cancer cells traveling through my bloodstream, waiting to take up residence elsewhere in my bod. So I asked.
"What are the chances of recurrence?"
"The chances of death from the cancer you have within the next 10 years is 30%. The chances of recurrence of this cancer within the next 10 years is slightly higher than that."
Oh.
You see, I did read something about that particular stat, early on in my post-diagnosis days, but like I said, I've been avoiding stats, so had pushed them out of my lizard brain.
So what her words sounded like to me were, "get off your high horse about living to 100, bitch, it's the next 10 years you can't fuck around with."
And lovely Pete had to go and hug me after the doc left the room, even after I asked him not to be nice to me.
"I'm being nice to me," he assured me.
I'll admit it. I wallowed in this news yesterday afternoon and evening. I saw my girls at 16 and 13, motherless. I saw every trip and flight of fancy I've been mulling around in my head completely useless. I saw any shred of worry I've ever had about Pete being 10 years older than me and possibly kicking it first entirely needless. It was me who would be propped up in a sun chair, a blanket over my withered legs, without ever reaching 50.
It felt like all the positivity and fight I've been cultivating over the past four months was sucked out of me. But I'll get over it. See, that 70% is a big number. And despite already feeling on the wrong side of numbers lately, this is one I'll court like the harlot I am. I'll get there. I just need to keep figuring out how I'll do it.
You will meet each joyful milestone and each high hurdle as they arrive. You are doing what you need to do now, and you will continue to do what you need to do. Keep the faith! Love always, Aunt Jen
ReplyDelete70% IS a big number Carissa! Keep your eye on that one - fuck the rest!!!
ReplyDeleteLance Armstrong was given less than 40% survival after his surgery. He had cancer in his lungs, abdomen and brain.
ReplyDeleteYour numbers are way better, but mostly, it's in your head babe where you need to stay positive and strong. Like Tim says: Focus on the big number and flip the birdie to the rest.
Love you.
J-Bird
Do you remember the first time you swore at me? I don't know how old you were but I remember saying to you "say that word again and I will wash your mouth out with soap" Defiantly, you looked at me and repeated the word - you were daring me, pushing me to do what I threatened. Well, you should also remember that I grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into the bathroom, grabbed the soap and stuck it into your mouth ...! I don't think I ever loved you more than I did that day. The strength that shone out of your eyes is what every mother wants to see in her daughter - that is what I felt like doing again when you posted this blog! Don't you dare say the word statistics again - ever!! Defy statistics like you defied me! Tell the stats to f... themselves. Don't forget to do that everyday from now until I am no longer around to encourage you. And watch your girls become the strong women they are destined to be. Love you babe.
ReplyDeleteHi Carissa. I just found out about your breast cancer but just wanted to add my support. You probably don't remember me all that well but hey we're family. Stay strong. Deal with today. No one knows what tomorrow holds for them. Sally Crane - Thunder Bay.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the lovely words of support!
ReplyDeleteAunt Jen - you're right. I feel good about dealing with this stuff 95% of the time and numbers aren't going to change that. Tim - 70% is so a big number and double fuck the naysayers. J-bird - thanks for the reminder of what it means to beat odds much worse than mine. I've read plenty of the stories myself and I'm still determined to be a good student. Ma - the word was "fuck", btw, and man it feels great to say that and not get the soap. You're my voice of reason. Sally - how lovely to hear from you. I do remember you, and a cheer from T-Bay is worth a million cheers in my book, so thank you.
The only reason for statistics... so you can prove them wrong! If we listened to all the stats out there we would never leave the house, we would never live. Love you so much you amazing, strong, potty mouthed mavin.
ReplyDelete