39 thoughts on “I Hate Cancer”

  2. A tragedy for all who loved him, of whom I gather there were many. It’s jarring to think how short a time ago he retired to fight this thing, seemingly healthy.

  3. I just beat prostate cancer (well, as far as any cancer can be beaten; yesterday I got the first PSA test report after the operation and it’s ‘undetectable’). No big deal; prostate cancer is to “real” cancer as a cold is to pneumonia. However, this was one tiny example of the classic “early detection plus early intervention yields success”. Yes, some cancers are almost hopeless to fight. But some we can beat. And let me add in the tale of my dear friend GN who was diagnosed at age 21 with an incurable form of cancer. She participated in an experimental treatment program and today, at age 59, she’s still cancer-free (although some of the side effects of the treatment program still curtail her life). What’s more, having looked death in the eye, she now knows how to live, and is certainly the most vivacious person I have ever met.

  5. Congratulations to you and your friend, Erasmussimo.
    Snow died of colon cancer. If you’re in the target age group, get a colonoscopy. The prep’s a drag, but is, at worst, merely uncomfortable. The drugs you get during the procedure are freaking great. I had one this year, and I slept through it. It’s an easy, easy procedure.
    End of public service announcement.
    My thoughts are with Snow’s family. 53 is too young to go.
    Thanks –

  7. Perhaps there are some here who could dissuade me, but I have to think our notion that cancer is a single unitary phenomenon has caused more problems. I do understand that the process of cancer is the same for all cancers, but ‘The war on cancer’ postulated a silver bullet that would cure all of them, and I think it wasted more time and effort because of that. I know we refer to them all by a single term, so the problem is rooted in the way we term things, so I realize that it is probably not possible to have us start treating all these as different phenomenon, but keeping it in mind might be useful.

  8. Second Russell’s comment re colonoscopy. Plus when it’s over and you finally get to eat lunch it’s great.

  9. lj: Here is my attempt to dissuade you.
    As someone who is trying to take on cancer in the lab, my perspective is slightly different. There are really two fronts to the so-called battle in my mind. First is the ‘public front’ of raising awareness, public consciousness, fundraising, and encouraging annual screenings, etc. The second battle is in the lab and clinic.
    “…our notion that cancer is a single unitary phenomenon has caused more problems. I do understand that the process of cancer is the same for all cancers, but ‘The war on cancer’ postulated a silver bullet that would cure all of them, and I think it wasted more time and effort because of that.”
    Since the boom of modern-biology (70’s onward) cancer has never really been viewed as one disease in either the lab or the clinic. For example, in the early 70’s it was found that about 90% CML leukemias showed consistent chromosomal translocations (think cut and paste of one chromosome onto another), which became known as the Philadelphia Chromosome. This event causes a very unique molecular juxtaposition of two genes and creation of a ‘hybrid’ protein capable of leukemogenesis. This is very different from the discovery in the late 80’s that colorectal carcinomas result from mutations or sequential deletions of tumor suppressor genes and identification of mutations in signaling pathways that stimulate cell growth. The bottom line: cancer is a genetic disease where each subtype (breast, colorectal, pancreatic, etc.) can share common ‘damaged’ components. However, what can really separate tumors are both their tissue of origin and differential expression of genes implicated in neoplasia. It significantly complicates the problem.
    So, saying the “process of cancer is the same for all cancers” isn’t entirely true: it is a common gross over-simplification that leads to silver bullet expectations. Progress in developing new treatments has been pretty significant (for some cancers) but it just comes in small increments that the general public simply does not know; just like they do not know the biological differences between cancer types. Saying “time and effort” was wasted because of the Silver Bullet expectations reflects the public disappointment of having no cure. That optimism did not negatively affect the efforts in basic, translational, or clinical research. Research has never solely been focused on uncovering the unrealistic holy grail; at least I have never really seen or heard of that. Rather, multitudes of ideas have been tested, great questions have been asked, and huge questions obviously remain. There have been tons of huge discoveries which have opened a lot of doors. There are many, many new approaches to cancer treatment which have just finally begun to make it to clinical trials. If anything having the public and patients want ‘a cure’ is pretty motivating and inspiring to do more and think outside the box.

  10. Different cancers are treated in different ways for good reason. There may never be a magic bullet for all cancers but the hope is one very effective treatment will work on most all cancers with some modification. For example, if we could find a good way to target specific cells with radiation and we could identify only cancer cells with this method, we’d have a cure for all cancers. Of course, that’s much easier said than done.
    In reality, cancer treatments are improved in small increments by tweaking current regimens, adding another chemo drug here, changing the radiation dose there. This is all very specialized work and there are very specific regimens for each type, subtype, and sub-subtype of cancer and even then it is changed depending on other factors like patient age and certain genetic variables of the cancer itself.
    I’ll say this about colon cancer – it is very treatable when caught early. Get your scopes, people. Mr. Snow was unusually young, though. 50 is the recommended age to start getting scoped unless you have a family history or a chronic colon disease which predisposes you to cancer. They recommend every 10 years because that is the theoretical time it takes for a colonic polyp, which is not cancerous, to progress to cancer.
    Once colon cancer metastasizes, it is not pretty. Some metastasized patients are candidates for treatment with “curative intent” as opposed to “palliative intent”. This is not the norm, though. If one has colon cancer metastasized ONLY to the liver, and the nodes are in areas that can be resected while leaving functional organ, then that person has a decent chance to be cancer free. Otherwise, there isn’t much that can be done except chemo with the intention of minimizing and slowing the progression.
    Again – get your colonoscopy.

  12. A colonoscopy saved me from cancer of the colon. I requested the colonoscopy out of paranoia, really. My seconde cousin is dying of colon cancer and my father has had polyps but that’s not a strong family history. Netherthe less Group health honored my request and I went in for an inspection.
    They found preconcerous cells on the bvalue between my big and my little intestine. Classic case of catching it early. I had surgery and got six inches cut out.
    I’m sorry for Tony Snow and his famiy.

  13. “…and from everyone.”
    Yes.
    And many more.
    “I just beat prostate cancer”
    It’s good to read good news occasionally.
    I freaked out when Ogged at Unfogged.com reported his stomach cancer diagnosis, during the time I was still in mourning for whom I linked above, and I couldn’t cope with sending him wishes, or communicating at all. He probably concluded I was indifferent and callous, and it’s certainly my fault that I didn’t overcome my inability to deal; I’ve regretted that very much, and felt terribly guilty, ever since. I should tell him this sometime, I suppose, but now I feel like I’m making excuses, as well, and too late at that.
    I’ve had far too many friends either die of cancer, or suffer significantly from it; like a lot of things, the topic sometimes makes me lose emotional control.
    But I hate the sucker so. It’s taken so much from so many of us.
    I don’t know why.
    I just hate it.

  14. Different cancers are treated in different ways for good reason. There may never be a magic bullet for all cancers but the hope is one very effective treatment will work on most all cancers with some modification. For example, if we could find a good way to target specific cells with radiation and we could identify only cancer cells with this method, we’d have a cure for all cancers. Of course, that’s much easier said than done.
    This is probably in the More Information Than You Wanted to Know, and I’m certain that it is more my own circumstances talking, making me even less rational than usual, but I lost my mom to Type 3 Melanoma in October, and it just feels to me that my mom, my family and me were on a roller coaster because anything that talked about cancer seemed to plug into either making us hopeful or making us worry.
    I should stress, I don’t want to suggest that people not talk about cancer, but (and again, this might be because it was so recent), I feel that when we talk about cancer as a single unitary entity, we are covering up a whole crew of different things and swatting away at them with a stick. I agree that radiation targeting could lick them all by simply getting rid of the bad cells, but it seems that the big progress to be made is in early detection/treatment, and each cancer seems to be different. Again, I’m sure this is more my situation talking, but it’s been on my mind quite a bit.

  15. I agree with this post more than I’ve agreed with anything written here (and that’s saying a lot!). My best friend died of colon cancer when she was just a bit older than Snow. It’s not fair.

  16. I have a very close friend/mentor who was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer which has already spread to the lungs and some other organs. That sucks.

  17. I’m here to add weight to what has been said above about colonoscopy. I was diagnosed last year with stage 3 colon cancer. I had no sysmptoms and the fecal smear test for blood in the stool had come back negative. When I had my physical the doctor said… “You’re over fifty, you really ought to have a colonoscopy. So I did. When I woke up after the colonoscopy the doctor said, “We found cancer. It won’t be official until we get the results of the biopsey, but it’s cancer. I was scoped on a Monday, went for a ct scan on Tuesday. Met with the surgeon on Wednesday. She didn’t like some spots on my liver and kidneys in the CT scan and send me back for mri on Thursday. Back to the surgeon on Friday. Monday morning at 9:00AM they cut me open and chopped out a couple of feet of colon and large intestine, but I slept through that. That was the first of what would eventually become four surgeries. Not to mention eight months of chemo. All in all, it wasn’t a fun year. The good news is that just a couple of weeks ago I had my six month after completing chem checkup. Mine was one of the colon cancers with a chemical marker. Blood levels of that CEA marker are normal, the ct scan and colonoscopy looked good and as far as my oncologist can tell I’m cancer free. So, when your doc says get a colonoscopy, do it. It may save your life. Final results aren’t in yet, but it looks like it saved mine. If I’d had the colonoscopy a couple of years earlier, I’d have saved a lot of trouble and expense, and there would be no doubt about the result.

  18. baskaborr: congrats on being cancer free. I knew someone who had stage 3 colon cancer, and has been cancer-free for a while; but it was a pretty dreadful year or so before we knew it would turn out that way.

  19. First, I need to say how very very impressed (but not surprised) I am by this community. A great and respectful post and comments and no politics at all. You folks are the best. I put this off a while to see if this thread devolved into something less than respectful.
    Every story like this just hits me in the gut.
    My family is in the midst of coping with trying to save my Down Syndrome sister from post transplant NHL. It’s in her intestines and her throat. Standard chemo treatments are out as she would lose the transplanted kidney (donated by my step-dad) and she just can’t tolerate dialysis any more. It’s a real tightrope act trying to treat it w/o chemo. It’s all the more horrible because she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, and it’s left to my mom to make these decisions (treat the cancer aggressively and lose the kidney, or do what you can while trying to save the kidney).
    In 2 weeks I take my wife of 25 years for surgery related to melanoma.
    Yeah – it sucks, and sucks bad.

  24. Thanks all.
    As I think back, I don’t think I ever knew anyone whose life has not been touched by this insidious disease. So publius’s post was perfect. Just perfect. Non-partisan. And every comment here was as well. Thank you all for that.

  25. Thanks all.
    As I think back, I don’t think I ever knew anyone whose life has not been touched by this insidious disease. So publius’s post was perfect. Just perfect. Non-partisan. And every comment here was as well. Thank you all for that.

  27. we all gotta die of something, sometime. Why should Tony Snow (code name: “Snow Job”) be any different?
    Seriously folks…
    Why do we mourn death instead of celebrate it? (I am just as guilty as any other) It is coming, it will get us all. It is as much a part of life as birth.
    I hope none will mourn my passing, I would rather they celebrate a life well lived.(or failing that, just celebrate)(more than a few will)
    That will be enuf for me… None will be indifferent.

  29. OCSteve, mt very best wishes for all in your family.
    Cancer is an ugly thing. My father died at age 56, my mother-in-law, now 87, survived breast cancer. There is no predicting, but fortunately, things are getting better in that realm of medicine.
    BTW, OCSteve, compassion for events like this, even when the person involved represents the other side is a very liberal trait. 🙂 Actually, I am surprised that you were surprised.
    tom p, the mourning is seldom for the person who has died. The mourning is for those of us who remain living and suffer the loss. And it usually does involve a celebration of the life of the one who died.

  31. “Why do we mourn death instead of celebrate it?”
    I tend not to when the person is old and has led a full and basically happy life. In the case of my older relatives who died, I tended to feel no sadness if they had had good lives (in the cases I’m thinking of, missing had started before their deaths), and if not, sorrow that they hadn’t managed to get it all to come right.
    54 is different, I think. I think, as I did not think in the cases of my grandparents who died in their 80s, that it’s much. much too soon.

  32. Why do we mourn death instead of celebrate it?
    Though ‘to mourn’ is a verb, it doesn’t feel like one is “doing” anything. For me, it has been like the process that my uncle told me when he flew Liberators which is that with the pressurized oxygen, you have to work to exhale, but your inhalation requires no effort. Mourning seems like that, where the things that normally would take no effort or thought become difficult to do, and, when you stop, you find yourself flooded. So perhaps we don’t actually do anything when we mourn (making it not a choice of mourning or celebrating), we just find ourselves being filled by memories, looking to fill in a space the person has left behind.

  33. tom p: Why do we mourn death instead of celebrate it?
    What liberal japonicus said.
    A few years ago a very elderly relative died whom I loved very much. By the time she died, her quality of life was such that many people referred to her death as “a blessing”. I understood what they meant – I even agreed with them – but I still mourned and missed her.

  34. Why do we mourn death instead of celebrating? I know why I am mournng. I’m mournng for me because I will miss my daddy.
    I’m in Wisconsin, at my brother’s house. My dad is here, in the living room in a hospital bed, dying.
    He says that he doesn’t want any drama. he is ready to die. He usually not in pain and we have morphine for break throughs. he is eighty three.
    He is being very brave. He still has a sense of humor. he flirts with the hospice gals! yesterday he startled and amused the bath lady by busrsting into song (Oh, sweet mystery of life, etc) as she washed his anus.
    He still thinks of others more than himslef…asks for things hesitantly, says thank you and means it. I mean he’s dying for chrissake, we’ll galdly give him whatever he wants but he doesn’t ask if he thinks people are busy.
    I don’t imagine that he will live moe than maybe another week. maybe less.
    We are all here. My brother, my sister in law. my siser, my neices and me. He won’t be lonley when he dies.
    So if there is such a thing as a good death, then we are doing our best to give him one.
    How much comfort is that? Right now, none. It will be comforting later I know. Right now ntohing is comfoting to me. Right now I don’t even think I wil be able to go to the memorial ceremony.

  36. wonkie,
    just a suggestion, pull out a tape recorder and all your old photo albums and have your dad, if he can see, tell you about all the photos and record it. If he can’t, you might describe the pictures and have him tell you about them. I did this with my mom and I felt like I got to know her all over again. This of course depends on what he thinks (I can imagine some people getting very angry about it), but having something like this to listen to and transcribe can have a great meaning later.

  37. LJ We have been reminecsing a lot. Recording the convrastion sis a ggod idea I’ll ask my brother about that when he comes home.
    Daddy can’t see much any more and he is very deaf. i think that sensory deprivation is accellerating his dying process. He has lymphoma. He sleeps most of the time.
    Still when he wakes he likes to chat. yesterday we remembered places where we had gone fishing when my sibs and I were kids.
    I realize that someday i will look back and be very glad for these days we have togher now. Death can be so much worse. Hell life can be!

  38. My dad died of lung cancer in 2000 at age 67. My mom died of colon cancer in early April of this year at age 72 — she had a colonoscopy three years before her diagnosis last year that came back clean (we have a big family history with that disease so we all get checked regularly). So tell your gastroenterologist to take his or her time during the procedure and make sure they don’t miss anything, especially now that there are reports that some precancerous polyps are “flat” and not as easily detectable by the ‘scope. The test is only as good as the person doing it.
    My friend Janet died of lung cancer at the end of April. Neither she nor my dad had the kind associated with smoking — I mention that not to suggest that they somehow didn’t deserve it, whereas smokers do (no one deserves cancer — NO ONE), but to underscore that lung cancer does in fact attack nonsmokers as well. So don’t discount it as a possibility when you have a chronic cough, etc.
    And now my 48-year-old sister is battling Stage III ovarian cancer. My computer monitor proudly sports a bumper sticker a friend sent me a couple weeks ago: FUCK CANCER.

  39. Though ‘to mourn’ is a verb, it doesn’t feel like one is “doing” anything. For me, it has been like the process that my uncle told me when he flew Liberators which is that with the pressurized oxygen, you have to work to exhale, but your inhalation requires no effort. Mourning seems like that, where the things that normally would take no effort or thought become difficult to do, and, when you stop, you find yourself flooded. So perhaps we don’t actually do anything when we mourn (making it not a choice of mourning or celebrating), we just find ourselves being filled by memories, looking to fill in a space the person has left behind.

    That was beautifully put, LJ. My dad died a year-and-a-half ago, and I still miss him every day.
    He died of lung cancer (despite having given up smoking 30 years before), but was robust until the end, still able to get up to get to the restroom on his own steam within 24 horus of his death, and no pain, thanks to providence and a very good doctor (who marveled at the number of visitors my Dad had to his sickbed).
    He didn’t get a stroke like those that disabled two of his siblings, which was what he most feared, and his last words to me were that he wouldn’t change his life one iota, which was remarkable because my Dad had had many crosses to bear.
    So I don’t mourn for him, I’m mourning for me, that I lost his company and his wisdom.
    Wonkie, I’m sorry for your trouble. I hope that the memory of the last few days sustains you through the times to come. And yes, if you can get him to go through old photos, it’s well worth it. I found my Dad had been much more rakish in his youth than I’d ever imagined.

Comments are closed.