Lung Cancer Awareness Month
November is Lung Cancer Awareness Month.
Waaaaaaay back when I was a pre-teenager in school, during “health class,” every year our teachers would teach us about the dangers of smoking, from emphazema to lung cancer. Heck, they even had a visual display of a blackened, diseased lung to hammer the point. Of course, we would go home and tell our parents that their smoking was bad for them. My parent’s response? “Won’t happen to me.”
Well, guess what. It did happen to my Father. Upon being given the diagnosis of lung cancer, his response to the oncologist’s news was, “so tell me Doc, what do you think caused this?” And my Father said it with a straight face! I jumped in, “Dad, you did not just ask him that question when you have been smoking since you were a teenager!” My Father responded, “I know. I was just hoping it could have been something else.” And it quite possibly could have been something else, though the odds of it being the cancer sticks were more likely.
And just as there are different types of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma as I was diagnosed with, and just as with different types of breast cancers (October being Breast Cancer Awareness Month), lung cancer is no different. I should know. It is all but official, pending a biopsy (or worse), I am likely to be diagnosed with lung cancer in the not so distant future.
Of the two treatment options I received for my Hodgkin’s back in 1988 and 1989, chemotherapy and radiation, back then, I was warned of the possibility of a secondary cancer, though it was thought to be in the way of a leukemia or something. In 2008, as I was being prepped for an emergency bypass due to progressive damage to my heart from that same radiation therapy’s late developing side effect, a small unidentified spot was discovered on my lung. At that time, it was of no concern, the doctor would just follow up on it for any growth. A few years later, not only had that spot grown every so slightly, there were a couple more that had been discovered. A CT scan would give only a slight more detail, but still unidentfied.
CT scans would become part of my annual surveillance and that one spot, now identified as a nodule was still growing, slowly, and a few more spots had popped up, and one of the other previous spots was now growing. Then it happened. A few years ago, that initial nodule, had grown enough, able to discern its characteristics better, now carried the comment, “presents as a possible indolent adenocarcinoma.” There it was, carcinoma, also known as cancer. I had to look up the word indolent, which means “slow growing, not producing any symptoms.” It was hard to believe, but my doctor still was not concerned at this point. A few questions later, I would understand as it was explained, many of those diagnosed with this type of cancer, often die of natural causes before this cancer becomes an issue. In other words, I would just live with this cancer, if it was cancer. We still have not made it official.
Until two years ago. The latest CT scan report changed from possible to “likely” as the nodule had grown some more, and at a slightly quicker pace. A referral to a pulmonologist had me being told I had two options, neither I would be thrilled with. He could do a needle biopsy but there risked a collapsing of my lung. And given my health history, I did not need to be taking any unnecessary risks. The other option, was to perform a “wedge” surgery, removing the portion of the lung with the nodule, and enough of the area around for any peripheral cells, but again, I have a higher risk with any surgeries, especially within the chest cavity.
My Father passed from lung cancer. He was staged at 1, but somehow following the surgery, which supposedly got everything, he underwent chemotherapy and radiation as preventative therapies, and ended up terminal. Anxiety and panic had now entered my head. My doctor had arranged for a second opinion with someone experienced with my type of health history. She had a totally different demeanor, and a much calmer direction. Together, we agreed that there would have to be a limit, a “line in the sand,” how much this nodule would be allowed to grow. There was no discussion on the other nodules and spots, but I am sure that those will eventually be included in any plan when the time comes. By my calculations, I have about three and a half years and a decision will need to be made then. Both the doctor and I are in agreement with this. And honestly, with all the issues I deal with related to my late side effects from my cancer treatments, a lot can happen in that time.
In the mean time, I continue on in life, living life, reaching for more milestones. I do not let these medical issues prevent me from my experiences. But at least with the awareness, I can have a plan. I can have hope. I can have time.
Paul's Heart 