Notes From The Cancer Wars - V

I read a story in USA Today about a guy in Oregon who has decided to Check Out.

Permanently.

He says he has lymphoma, which kind he failed to say. He claims the disease, which involves the lymphatic system, has now invaded his brain.

He reports that he is not suffering from pain (it's amazing lymphoma and brain cancer share one thing in common - neither one hurts.)

Rather, he has grown weary of living in a chemically-induced Fog.

He also says he's sick & tired of all the surgery, chemotherapy and other processes doctors employ to keep his disease in-check.

So he told his doctor to stop treating him.

Instead, he's going to take advantage of Oregon's Death With Dignity Statute and swallow a lethal cocktail.

The reporter from USA Today who wrote the story did a fantastic job in conveying senses of this man's dispondency and loneliness. I get the distinct impression that he has chosen to live his few remaining hours as a Home-Bound Agoraphobe.

I also sense he has run through all of his savings and assets to pay for his treatments.

If that's the case, I am deeply saddened.

I could be Flip and wish this guy Well as he plans to embark on his Journey Into Infinity -- May the Beer Be Cold and The Women Hot Wherever You End Up.

But seriously, and on many levels, I just can't relate for one very important reason: I, too, have lymphoma.

I don't know what type he has, but mine is called B-Cell Aggressive. My treatments have reduced my blood chemistry to that of an AIDS patient.

I don't know about how his treatments worked themselves out, but all I can say is this: mine Kick My Ass when I'm going through them during Week One of every other month.

The fatigue and the Fog settle in pretty heavily during Week Two.

In Week Three, and very, very gradually, they begin to lift.

By Week Four, I experience more Good Days than Bad Ones.

By Week Five, I feel about 85 percent back to normal.

I'm probably at 90% by the time Weeks Six, Seven and Eight roll around.

Then, it's back to see the doctor and the nurses for my Hook Up.

The whole process of Fog/Fatigue repeats itself.

This happens to be my Cycle and my Fate and I'm Cool With It.

And so it will go for as long as I live -- that is, unless a medical Genius discovers a cure -- or if my lymphoma decides to gain the Upper Hand & Take Me Out.

But let us now return to Oregon, to make one final observation about my Brother In Illness and, more important, to plead with him to reconsider the Act which he says he's about to commit.

• If you decided to stop treatments due to the Money Thing (or lack thereof), think about this: the USA Today story should bring you some level of help in that Department. You don't have to remind me how expensive treatments are -- you are worth every penny of it. Resources will flow to your need. 
• If it's all about living in the Fog/Fatigue, there are certain things medicine can do for you and that you can do for yourself. Try changing your diet and get some exercise each day. Man up, and manage it.
• Do you have a wife, daughter, son, girlfriend, father, mother, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, nephew, niece or cousin? Reach out! If not, make new friends, those who can and who will support you, emotionally, as you contend with your lymphoma. Draw strength from them. They will miss you more than you'll ever know if you decide to Pull The Plug. 
• Delay your decision until March 17th. In the meantime, listen to some Phil Coulter -- and read the Jacket Material.
• Finally, Lose The Internet. People who follow you on your Blog are rooting for your demise and care next-to-nothing about you as a person.

Here's the bottom line, Bro -- for you and for anyone else suffering with Lymphoma or any other form of Cancer:

Never Give Up! Never quit! Think Jimmy V!

It just doesn't make sense to embrace a permanent solution to a problem that is treatable, one that comes and goes.