A good friend of mine has just been diagnosed with uterine cancer, and the prognosis is not good. The oncologist recommends a hysterectomy, but given her size (probably over 400 lbs) surgery is extremely high risk. Then what? If she survives it, then she’s got a couple of years of radiation and chemo before the inevitable, unable to work or keep a roof over her head. The other option is to just go home and bleed out in three or four months. What lousy options...
She’s suffered depression most of her life, with her earliest memory of childhood being told by her mother that she wasn’t wanted. She had already planned on taking her own life once her dogs passed away, and this was before this diagnosis, so she really didn’t seem long for this world. We had some good and frank conversation this evening, and she seems resigned to her fate, although I wonder if it’s too early in the process to accept her thoughts from today as final.
Right now I’m feeling a little survivor’s guilt. Just a few short months ago I was diagnosed with cancer, but it was caught in time, it didn’t spread anywhere, the surgery went as well as expected, and chemo should take care of anything lingering around. I honestly expect to be one of those that makes it to five years and beyond. Given the problems I’ve had with my colon in the past I expected to get cancer, to be completely honest. But I expected it to be fatal, and that’s throwing me off my game. Other than a little nervousness and apprehension when I was first told that they found a mass I’ve been OK with this whole process. Surgery didn’t scare me, chemo seems OK so far, and at no point have I broken down or gotten angry about this situation. It just doesn’t feel like what I expected a cancer diagnosis to feel like. And I think my friend is feeling much the same way, although a little disappointed that she’s going before her dogs - that was not her plan.
I just hopes she finally finds a little happiness in the time she has left...