The man was a total stranger. I could tell just by looking at him, he’d spent many days up at the cancer center, probably standing by a loved one, feeling helpless but knowing it was important to be there. When I spotted him, he was on his cell phone just a few feet away from where I was sitting. He couldn’t sit down, he was very nervous and very anxious. His fingers were tapping on the window ledge. I’m sure he didn’t even realize he was doing that.
Then, under his breath, I could hear the words. AGRESSIVE. SPREADING. CT-SCANS. NO MORE RADIATION. CHEMOTHERAPY. NOT DOING WELL.
Cancer’s vocabulary stumbling out of his mouth, as he tried to stay calm but clearing having to break the bad news over the phone.
We’ve all used these same words at some point in our fight with this disease. They signal the end of the battle many times. How I felt for this man. He was hurting beyond the words.
Cancer’s vocabulary…
September 9, 2011 @ 3:17 am
Those words are the cruelest thing to hear. But if there was even a bright side to that, I think it’s that point in time where a patient and the family gets a chance to let go and properly say goodbye.
September 8, 2011 @ 7:18 pm
So sorry to hear about your friend’s brother Irene. It is such a shock to hear those words,
“Stage four” when your loved one is diagnosed. “cancer” is bad enough but those late-stage #’s, absolutely terrify me. It’s hard to hold onto hope at those times, but it’s hope that will carry you through. I’ll keep them in my prayers!!
September 7, 2011 @ 12:20 pm
Scary words and sadly very common words in the cancer world. It is a lexicon that no one wants to use but often these words describe best the current situation.
Other words buried deep within our vocabulary, sometimes used, but not often enough: NED (no evidence of disease), shrinking, gone (as in the tumor is gone), hasn’t spread or confined, dead tissue (radiation killed the tumor), HOPE (we all have Hope but do we really believe), optimistic (almost an oxymoron- I have cancer but I’m optimistic), etc. The one word that is glaringly missing – CURED. I hope and I pray that one day before I die, a cure will be found. I choose to remain hopeful and optimistic in spite of the odds.
September 7, 2011 @ 6:29 am
Mr friends brother Armando– he is 37 with a 3 year old and 6 year old, appeared to be fine over a month ago. Now he is diagnosed with stage four esophageal cancer. The word he has added to his vocabulary is ‘scared’.
His sister asks for prayer.
September 6, 2011 @ 11:55 pm
ouch…my heart hurts reading this one Laurie….too many memories of similar situations. I am glad I have this family, I hope he has one like ours….
September 6, 2011 @ 8:03 pm
Oh my goodness yes…a horrible vocabulary. My heart absolutely breaks when I think of saying those words and we have all had to make those phone calls that just tear everyone apart. Sometimes I just want to go to the hospital and go to the caregivers and just hug them and let them know I care about them and they can say anything to me or cry on my shoulder and let their hair down. It can be such a lonely world.