"This is what we suggest, Mrs. Fead: three weeks of heavy chemo in the hospital—you’ll get very sick, lose your hair. When you’ve healed from that treatment, we will resection your stomach. It’s a very slow recovery. Then three more weeks of twenty-four-hour-a-day chemo into the site. Let’s see, this is Friday. We should schedule you for Monday. We can’t miss this window of opportunity."
"And if I decide not to do this?" I responded. "I’m not sure I could survive this, and I’m certainly not ready to give up my life as I know it by Monday." I looked into the faces of those two bright young doctors as they answered my question. "We think you would have about two months." Blur. White noise. So much of it I didn’t hear, couldn’t hear.
I went to another doctor. It was as though the heavens opened. I began an experimental treatment of Femara and Lupron. When the doctor explained the program, I thought to myself then, this is the treatment I’m going with. I decided to do what was best for me. Other individuals must decide on and do what is best for them. Now, two years later, I am playing tennis, hiking the highest mountains, luxuriating in my grandchildren, and relishing the richness of my life.
Today, all of my tumors are still in place. I live well with my cancer, and I think to myself, "If I can do, there is hope you can too."
