Indefinitely

I have chemo again this week, and I will be starting on a new drug this treatment. After 13 treatments with the platinum-based drug, the neuropathy in my fingers and toes became too much.  It will go away eventually but it may take months.  According to my oncologist 10-12 treatments is the norm for that drug.  I made it through 13 before raising the white flag. I've had genetic testing to find out if I had a genetic marker for colon cancer.  Negative.  That's good news for Sara.  It also means that there are more treatment options for me. If the latest drug doesn't work or I cannot tolerate the side effects, there are others.

People often ask me how many treatments I have left.  That's a natural question. We all like to be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I have asked that question of my oncologist too. The answer, "indefinitely". Sigh.  I usually end up talking to the nurse practitioner more than the oncologist.  She's got more time and usually is a little more knowledgeable about the practical aspects.  She is just the kind of no bullshit woman that I like.  When my oncologist said "indefinitely", she added "or until it quits working".  Ouch.  The truth hurts, but I wanted to know where we were going.  So when Sara gets emotional and wails, "I feel like you are going to be in chemo forever", she may be right.  It feels that way to me too.

In the book The Death of Cancer, the author writes about advances in cancer treatments in the past 30-40 years, and where research and treatment are going next.  Through the advances in modern medicine and research, many cancers are now being managed as chronic conditions (like diabetes or hypertension) rather than terminal illnesses.  For example, I didn't know until recently that some forms of chemo can be administered in pill form.   I'm trying to view my illness as a chronic condition to be managed. I try not to think of the terminal illness aspect too often.  The chemo is fighting back the cancer, and so far it is winning this battle.   So I keep doing it and hope that it keeps working, and I pray that it is able to fight back to the point that I can have what's left removed with surgery.  Until the next waypoint, I keep plodding forward.