We have a lot of baldies in my cancer support group at the moment. Not everyone who is undergoing chemo has lost her hair, but several women have; another woman just had ten days of radiation on her head, and her hair started falling out as a consequence.
Losing hair is of course a fairly minor side-effect of cancer treatment. Some people, like me, have the unexpected outcome of more luxurious hair afterwards, but it is all rather random--and no indication whatsoever of the success of the treatment. At the moment, during an unusual cold snap, these dear women look even more exposed than they might if the weather were warm. And still they soldier on.
I've been thinking lately about what would be my limit in terms of treatments. Partly that's in the wake of poguesrun's diary a couple of weeks back, in which he describes what his son had to endure to have a stem cell transplant. Partly it's in hearing the ongoing struggles of some of my support group members, who are facing increasingly difficult choices relative to their metastasized cancer. And partly it's having just attended the birthday party for one woman who will be amazingly lucky if she sees another, regardless of her feistiness and spirit and how much she and all who love her want her to survive.
Now, in some senses, I've already made choices that may, or may not, affect my longevity. Although I have cut back on some of the foods (or, more accurately, food-like items) that used to comprise a major portion of my diet, I have not remained a vegan since my first effort to detox a couple of years ago. Nor have I ever emphasized raw foods, apart from salads and sprouts in season. I have reduced my consumption of white sugars and processed foods. And for the time being, at least, that's as far as I am willing to go in terms of eliminating items from my diet. I've added some things, teas and supplements, but those seem like easy "asks" in the scheme of things. I haven't had to go on a liquid diet, or push protein, or cope with a feeding tube. I've been very lucky, so far.
The women in my group with cancers run amok are not so privileged. They're facing choices (which to protect privacy I can discuss only in the most general of ways) that pose risks to important body functions, while not likely to cure their cancer. It's not entirely clear that these treatments will do much more than buy them a couple more months, at best.
And yet, in a similar position, I suspect I too would go for broke, so to speak. I'd probably try every last damn remedy possible, including major surgery, ongoing chemo, radiation, Phase I clinical trials, and serious alterations of diet and other fundamental habits. Of course, I would prefer never to have to find out.
So, with these somber prospects to consider, the questions I'm posing for discussion tonight are: What's the toughest treatment you've had so far? What do you think would cause you to say, no more, if anything? And a question I direct most pointedly toward myself: If in extremis you (I) would be willing to make more dramatic accommodations, then what is stopping you (me) from making them now?
Of course, this MNCC installment is also an open thread, so that anyone with a concern or a celebration should feel free to speak up.
Monday Night Cancer Club is a Daily Kos group focused on dealing with cancer, primarily for cancer survivors and caregivers, though clinicians, researchers, and others with a special interest are also welcome. Volunteer diarists post Monday evenings between 7-8 PM ET on topics related to living with cancer, which is very broadly defined to include physical, spiritual, emotional and cognitive aspects. Mindful of the controversies endemic to cancer prevention and treatment, we ask that both diarists and commenters keep an open mind regarding strategies for surviving cancer, whether based in traditional, Eastern, Western, allopathic or other medical practices. This is a club no one wants to join, in truth, and compassion will help us make it through the challenge together.