Where It's At

When I was a little girl, I never said, "When I grow up, I wanna be a Cancer Patient!" And more recently, I complacently expected to spend my advancing middle age dealing with nearly-grown offspring, elderly parents, college tuition, job worries, expanding opportunities for art and music, a modest dose of local political activism, and hunting through a tiny and ever-dwindling pool of potential male companions.

As it turns out, I do have all that. But I also have Stage 4/ metastatic/ incurable breast cancer. Even aside from all the unpleasantness of treating and monitoring the condition, cancer has changed my future in a fundamental way. Instead of a long, winding pathway, stretching out and fading into into the deep distance, my future is very short and obscured by the fog of uncertainty. My particular cancer responded well to the first chemotherapy and appears to be under control; but in the typical course of this disease, it will eventually become resistant to the drugs and begin to grow again. Then follows a downward spiral of treatment, response, and resurgence of cancer, until the patient gives up with treatment and dies.

The numbers aren't pretty. Something like 95%-98% of women whose breast cancer has spread through the body--i.e., is metastatic--will die of this disease. So what kind of future can I see? Will my disease get worse? (I refuse to ask "When?" as if it were inevitable. That's part of how I cope). Can I get my kids through college? Will I be able to keep my job? (and hence my medical insurance?)  Should I make arrangements about my house while I'm still doing OK? And for goodness' sake, what guy is going to want to get involved with someone in my condition (even if looks didn't count!)? Yes, it's all pretty damned foggy.

But of course, every problem has to be dealt with. My approach is a thorough technical knowledge of the disease and treatment options, combined with extreme denial of the statistics. After all, statistics are about groups, not individuals! Perhaps most of all, I rely on humor--sometimes morbid, sometimes ribald, but always from the heart. That's what motivated the little ditty below, which depicts some of the travails of living with this condition: "Terminal Cancer Blues."

Uh-Oh, It's October Again!

Reposted because they're still doing it!!!!

I love the month of October in general--the crisp air, the colorful leaves, the uplifting sense of change. But I hate walking into a supermarket and seeing PINK ribbons everywhere--not only the ribbons marketed for display on everything from automobiles to people, but their perky little "Find a Cure" images plastered on food packaging, for goodness' sake! Even the familiar tomato soup can has turned PINK--Andy Warhol must be rolling in his grave!

It's not that I have a problem with "finding a cure"; it's just more to the point to find out what causes breast cancer, and why this horrible disease is increasing in frequency in our population. So why is so much work focused on treating this condition, rather than preventing it?

For one thing, treatment is easier (notice that I don't say cure; metastatic breast cancer, at least is presently incurable). The disease is right there in front of everybody. Finding causal factors in genetics, the outdoor and indoor environments, food, etc., is a lot harder, costs a great deal of money, and has potential political implications.

Furthermore, breast cancer is a very profitable disase to treat, and patients survive a long time, even with Stage 4 / terminal disease like mine, compared with other cancers. During that time, breast cancer patients may receive one or multiple courses of very expensive chemotherapy and other treatments. My original chemo cost many thousands of dollars, and my ongoing treatments are several thousands for every month I stay alive. Pharmaceutical companies continue to research new treatments for breast cancer because this disease assures a good return on their investment. They are in business--can you blame them?

Still, it seems to me that we should be focusing culturally as well as economically on finding the causal factors for breast cancer, so that we can reduce or eliminate them. This disease is removing so many women from the workforce, their communities, and their families, at the very prime of life. Why aren't we doing more?

So to me those little pink ribbons aren't an inspiration; they're an irritant. Two years ago, I composed and recorded this parody to express my take on October; it's called "I Hate Pink!".