Lung Cancer Is Stupid, But Affirmations May Not Be | Oct 1 2022

Saturday October 1, 2022

Monday: Scans

Monday I had my quarterly dose of radiation with a side order of potentially-damaging-to-the-kidneys contrast material. I am sad to report that I still do not spontaneously glow in the dark. On the up side, however, the radiologist’s report appeared in my inbox late that afternoon.

1. “The interstitial opacities and volume loss of the right infrahilar lung” (i.e., the damage from severe pneumonitis and radiation) “is similar compatible” to what was there after treatment. (I would like to be able to claim I’m a writer and write sentences where I just string several words together without worrying about what kind of sense they make.)
2. No new nodules. No new nuthin’.
3. I am one boring cancer patient.
4. 🎉🎈💃 🎉💥

After Dr. Oncology on Wednesday, I’m free until the end of December, with the exception of a brief interlude of brain MRI in late October.

Wednesday: A Visit with Dr. Oncology

My, we’re getting awfully huggy in CancerLand. There was a hug hello when Dr. O entered the room, and a farewell hug as she left. In the middle, lots of celebration about the state of affairs in my lungs and general health. A pulse-oxygen level of 98%– higher than when I was diagnosed; lovely blood pressure– did I mention I’m now off all blood pressure medication?– the sound of air moving freely and more easily through my lungs. It’s all because of bicycling, she acknowledged. Remember when she looked horrified at my bicycling talk early on in treatment? HA– she asked me how many miles I was up to, and when I said almost 40, she cheered.

She also told me about a podcast she’d been listening to, about breathing. Turns out the podcast speaker is the author of the book CancerShrink mentioned to me months ago: Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art by James Nestor. Somehow it was decided we would each read the book and compare notes at our next visit. “It’ll be our book club!” she said, delightedly.

There’s not room for hugs and book chats when the news is bad. Taking advantage of the good moments seems to be a way to build a solid working relationship. We’ll see– I read her notes after the visit and noticed she had incorrectly listed my mutation. So, I shot her a little email, basically saying, You said this, but I wanted to mention the mutations are actually that.

Then I went on to include the link to a little article I found: “Why EGFR Exon 21 L858R Mutations Should Be Treated Differently” and told her I wondered if this would be something to discuss. (Maybe in our book club?)

Basically it says that “combination therapy with EGFR-TKI plus an anti-angiogenic agent can improve clinical outcomes [in folks with EGFR L858R mutations]” (Anti-angiogenic drugs are treatments that stop tumors from growing their own blood vessels.) Poke around long enough, and you find stuff like Potential Role of Natural Compounds as Anti-Angiogenic Agents in Cancer. (Green tea and soybeans FTW!) (And probably why so many folks seek out Chinese herbalists.) Meanwhile, I’m curious– will she respond to the note? The article?

What’s Up With Affirmations?

Given some recent posts, it probably won’t surprise you to hear that the past weeks have been a little challenging. By the middle of last week, I’d hit a real low point, the lowest to date in this cancer thing. There was no physical reason for this, no recurrence or progression of disease. Just grasping the new realities of what it means to me to live with lung cancer in a Covid world. So how low was I ? Low enough to consider looking into the very thing I’ve made fun of since before I had cancer: affirmations.

Affirmations have been high on the You’ve-Got-To-Be-Kidding-Me list for a long, long time. Since cancer, they’ve headlined a new list, leading only positive thinking on the list of Some-Of-The-Most-Well-Meaning-But-Not-Helpful-Things-People-Say-To-Cancer-People. You cannot positively think your way out of cancer, I told– and still tell–myself. You cannot affirm your way into being cured. BC (Before Cancer), I thought of affirmations as New Age-y phrases concocted to brainwash you into some woo-woo belief system, like affirmations will “manifest” your “truest desires.” Maybe even a cult. (Can you see my open mind at work here?)

But I was in a sad, bad place. I’d stopped meditating, my spiritual life measured about negative four on a scale of one to ten, and it felt like I was not getting a grip on much of anything. Sort of like this:

As I wandered in a kind-of muddle, the idea of affirmations landed hard. Ugh, I was going to have to learn. So I’ve spent some time learning and practicing, and I’m here to tell you that affirmations are not the hooey I thought they were. More on this after I’ve collected some more experiences….

Cupcakes & Math Lessons

Here’s what I delivered last week to a birthday party at a club of Black-identifying teens. The agency person who made the request included an inspiration picture of a dozen cupcakes topped with cutesie faces with hearts in their hair. Somehow I didn’t think hearts would go over with teen boys, so I made these:

I also had a check-in with a gastro dude last week. This guy is a riot.  I haven’t seen him in several years, so the lung cancer was news to him. “Did you smoke?” he asked. “Never,” said I. “Then, how…?” he asked. So we started in on radon and lung cancer, how more and more lung cancer folks have never smoked, and which radon test kit he should buy. (He’s not telling his wife that he’s testing, so don’t breathe a word of it.)

Somewhere in there I made a joke about how bad the stats were for survivors.  (They’re inaccurate, really, given the explosion of new treatments and the impact of those on lifespan and QOL– Quality of Life, for those of you watching at home.)  That five year number always comes up when people talk about cancer. When he said I could go at least five years until my next colonoscopy, I was like, great! I may even be around for that! Har har har Then he said, “Well, technically, you only have about three and a half years, since you were diagnosed a year and a half ago.”  I cracked up, thanked him for the math review, and told him I looked forward to seeing him… in five years. “But it’s really…” he started, “three and a half,” we finished together.

Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping there are no colonoscopies in your future for at least five years.