I am told that studies have shown that living a happy, productive, and positive life makes a difference in the rate of recurrence. This may be an old wives tale. I hope not. If it's true, I think I would be sailing through to being cured.
The hardest thing is the not knowing. The current protocol for my type of cancer, following the intense treatment I received in 2011, is a "wait and see" approach. There are no routine scans or definitive tests that assess whether or not I have a recurrence. The doctors feel that the rates of false positives are too high and cause unnecessary stress on the patient. And, that if a recurrence does occur, finding out sooner rather than later doesn't have an impact on the survival rate or lifespan of that patient.
I just have to walk around and live my life every day hoping that I don't feel a sharp pain in my lungs or have a seizure due to metastasis in my brain.
My oncologist keeps telling me I'll "be fine," but when she shows me the statistics, my confidence that I have truly "kicked" cancer wanes. The recurrence rate for my type of cancer (triple negative) is shown in the chart below by the solid line. The first thing you'll note is that, at least in the first eight years, the solid line (my cancer) is above the dotted line (recurrence rates for other types of breast cancer). We can conclude then that my cancer is more aggressive in terms of recurrence and, subsequently, more deadly. This is why my doctors took such extreme measures with my treatment.
What else does the chart above show us? It shows that my recurrence risk for these last three years has hovered between 10 and 15%: a rate that is definitely higher than I'm comfortable with. However, after the third year, note the steep decline of the solid black line. At the five year mark, the line is roughly 1-2%. And, at eight years, the recurrence rate is virtually zero.
So, a milestone has been reached today (or technically on December 10, the date of my first surgery to remove the cancer, which is how this timeline is measured). Statistically, my risk for recurrence will start to drop off each day that goes by. Each month. Each year.
I never thought I'd be so excited about the aging process.
On Grace
There is a certain grace that comes with living with this uncertainty. It did not come easily, or willingly. After my treatment ended, I was a basket case, obsessed with the prospect that I would continue to draw the short straw. I had been so lucky in life up to that point: my family, my education, my career. Something had to give.
But, slowly, the days pass. One cannot live with that intense fear day-in and day-out. Like it or not, everyday life creeps back in and, eventually, rules your mind. The hair grows back. The surgery wounds heal. And those days from treatment sink further and further into the fog of memory.
I have submitted to the uncertainty now. That is the grace. I am not dominated by fear. I live my life fully, with joy and happiness and, most importantly, with an eye to the future.
To life, love, and happiness.
