Odds Are

Odds Are

Today I retrieved a piece a paper that I received months ago from my oncologist.  I remember the day well.  Jeff and I were both at the cancer center.  I had my double mastectomy and now I was visiting the doctor to go over additional treatments.  The doctor brought a piece of paper with him.  This piece of paper looks ordinary enough but the information it contains is heartbreakingly real.  This piece of paper contains the realities of my survival.  The odds of my getting breast cancer at 32 years old was less than 1%, less than .5% even.  I do not seem to have luck on my side right now.  Now he wants to talk about survival rates!  At that exact moment I was still a bit in shock over what was happening and I was not really worried about death.  I remember the doctor talking to us about my specific situation and using the term “mortality rates”.  He is showing me this piece of paper with graphs and statistics.  This was especially tough for Jeff.  He has been concerned about death since my diagnosis.  I wasn’t there yet.  Now I am forced to consider it.  I still had all my hair.  I didn’t feel sick.  I didn’t look sick.  I heard what he was saying and I saw the facts right there on paper but when I got home I intentionally placed this piece of paper away in my binder.  Out of sight.  I knew where it was, it was nicely organized where I didn’t have to look at again until I was ready.

I guess I’m ready.  I’m ready to look at it again.  I think.  I pull it out and look at the numbers again and wonder how this could possibly be correct.  The statistics are specific to me and my situation.  It takes into account my age, my general health, my estrogen receptor status, the histological grade of the tumors, the tumor size, the nodes involved and my recent surgery to remove both breasts.  It goes through the various treatment options to consider with the statistics to match.  Basically if I do no other additional treatment (no chemo, no hormonal therapy, no radiation) chances are pretty great that I will not be alive in 10 years and if I am alive the cancer would be back.  That is pretty sobering to see.  

Then it covers the odds of mortality with just chemo and no hormonal therapy (hormonal therapy = ten years of taking the drug Tamoxifen), with hormonal therapy and no chemo, and combined therapy.  Of course I am going to choose the combined therapy.  I want whatever I can get to be healthy again.  I remember now why I put the paper away when I did.  Looking at this paper again reminds me of the seriousness of cancer.  This is difficult to accept.  Combined therapy gives me a 70% survival rate in 10 years!!! I know that radiation and the removal of my ovaries will increase this number some but I do not know exactly what it is.  I know it’s just a number but it’s there and it’s specific to me.  Part of me wants to throw it away and pretend that it never existed.  I want to believe that survival is the only option.  Then part of me wonders if that is irresponsible and naïve.  I think I will put this paper away again.  I hope the odds will be on my side.

Looking on the Bright Side…I still have my fingernails.  Chemo can actually cause fingernails to fall off.  I have some discoloration and sensitivity but they are all still there!