What's Eating You?

“Everything gives you cancer,
There's no cure, there's no answer,
Everything gives you cancer,
Don't touch that dial,
Don't try to smile,
Just take this pill,
It's in your file.”   -  Lyrics from“Cancer” by Joe Jackson

My father died of cancer. He was 62 years old. He had smoked non-filtered cigarettes (called ‘studs’ back in those days) from the time he was 12 years old until just before he died. Back in his time, just about every man smoked. He served in the U.S. Navy during World War II, and a lot of men used tobacco as a way of escaping the fear, anxiety and confusion of war. Smoking reminded them of the civilian life back in the states, and they all longed for that.  My dad lost his ability to speak normally on Memorial Day of 1975. Subsequent visits to doctors revealed that one cancerous lung had collapsed. We didn’t know it at the time, but cancer had metastasized not only to his other lung, but to other organs and to his bones. He died less than two and a half months later.

My father-in-law was diagnosed with stomach cancer in the spring of 1998. After several surgeries, chemotherapy treatments and radiation, he died from his metastasized cancer at the end of July of that year. He had a history of skin cancer, and had many spots removed during his lifetime. Did this lead to his stomach cancer?

My dear sweet wife discovered that she had early-stage breast cancer in 2004. A lumpectomy and a month of radiation made her right as rain. Follow-ups over the years have shown that she is still cancer-free.

Here is my guilty cancer experience. I had a spot on my arm that would not heal. When the prescription antibiotic cream that the doctor prescribed failed to heal it, he scheduled a biopsy. The worst part of the biopsy procedure was the local anesthetic. That stuff hurts! Anyway, a little chunk of flesh was removed to send off for analysis, and three stitches closed the wound.

When the time came for stitch removal, the doctor informed me that the biopsy revealed basal cell cancer. This is a relatively slow-growing cancer and usually only causes problems if it is left untreated. I was scheduled to get the rest removed in a few weeks.

As I was showering the next day, the biopsy spot tore open. To me, this was horrific! Yeah, it was just a small area, but it was now an open, bloody wound. A call to the doctor led to apologies and an appointment for the wound to be closed by reinforced fabric strips. The doctor explained that cancerous tissue doesn’t always mend well. His tape strip remedy did the trick until my scheduled surgery.

Earlier this week, the same doctor removed the rest of my basal cell carcinoma. Again, the worst part was the local anesthesia. Just for your information, I do not look at what is going on with the needles and scalpels until the surgery is over and the stitches have been sewn. This keeps me from passing out.

I currently sport a stitched wound that is well over 2” long. The surgery ensures that all of the cancerous tissue plus a (hopefully) small healthy margin was removed. There are a few dissolving stitches underneath holding the “meat” together, and eight traditional stitches keeping the skin closed. Those will be removed next Wednesday. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a little tender. I just hope that this wound doesn’t tear open the day after the stitches are removed!

What is funny is that I never really sweated having that spot of skin cancer on my arm – at least as long as I didn’t dwell on it. I KNEW that this cancer was unlikely to spread, but in the back of my mind was the realization that I did indeed have a little bit of cancer. 

I actually feel guilty, as if I had some kind of impostor cancer. After all, I know a lot of people who have endured numerous surgeries, bouts of chemo and many, many doses of radiation. 

There is no chance that I will take a lap at next year’s Relay for Life. It is a strange to think that your cancer wasn’t good enough (or more accurately, bad enough) to consider yourself a member of the fraternity of cancer survivors.

No family has been untouched by cancer. My hope is that one day in the not-too-distant future, all cancer will be simply a footnote in history. My dream is that once that cure is discovered, it will be available to everyone.