Cancer fighters, young and old.

A couple of weeks ago, my family faced what I think has been among the scariest moments of our lives: our little cousin’s potential cancer diagnosis. Cancer is not something that our families have had experience with, and the thought of one of the children in our family needing to go through painful diagnostic procedures and lengthy, gruelling treatment was terrifying to say the least.

The prospect of a relative being diagnosed with a pediatric cancer hit me particularly harder. Having sat on the health care provider’s seat is a whole different beast from being the close relative of someone who would endure so much while going through treatment. Although I am aware of the statistics of pediatric cancer and survival rates, on an emotional level it felt unnatural to know such a tiny human being would need to face such a huge challenge, and that his parents would be fearing for his life every single day for as long as the treatment lasted and while he was declared cancer free. Again, although I am aware of the cure rates and the intricacies of cancer treatment, the thought of this little one succumbing to the disease was all I could think about. For a full weekend I became the mother, the daughter, the aunt, the cousin, the grandmother of someone diagnosed with cancer, fearing and hoping, desperately searching for answers, unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

The feeling of life and hope being sucked out of my heart was completely new, no matter what I tried the utter sense of numbness was overwhelming. These are feelings I wish no one would ever have to experience.

For many years I have struggled with the concept that cancer is a “battle” that needs to be won, something to “conquer”, and those who make it to the other side are “survivors”, “champions”, “heroes” and so on. A question that circles my mind often is whether this kind of narrative does a disservice who women and men who feel at their most vulnerable when diagnosed with the disease, or when undergoing treatment, their families and loved ones, or those who, for so many reasons, do not “make it”. While we waited for my cousin’s diagnosis to be confirmed, all I could think about was whether he and his family would have all the courage that is needed to overcome such a monumental challenge in their lives. My own relatives even started to categorize this little boy as a “fighter”, a “hero”, trying to find comfort that everything would work out well in the end. But what if he wasn’t? where does that leave us? would we feel defeated? in the rush to fight the war on cancer, is there any room to consider the fears, anxieties, or even the possibility that things might not work? Are we urging individuals undergoing cancer treatment to go through more harmful tests and treatments that might carry more side effects than the problem they are set out to fix, in the name of “putting up a good fight”? I wonder.

A cancer diagnosis carries more emotional weight that any other diagnosis in the medical lexicon. Very few people express the same amount of concern when they are diagnosed with hypertension, heart failure, emphysema, or kidney disease. Some of these are more likely to kill you than being diagnosed with cancer, yet these diseases seem to attract a smaller portion of the public’s attention. The word “cancer” definitely leaves a greater footprint in our psyche, perhaps due to the fact that the disease affects the patient, but also their family and friends. It makes people scared, perhaps angry about all the changes that their lives will face. Fighting cancer is certain to rob us from energy, vitality, time with our families, even our hair. That was certainly the aspect that I was keenly aware of as I awaited confirmation - or lack thereof- of a cancer diagnosis in my little cousin: time spent in the hospital, the likelihood that he would become a little, frail being, susceptible to catching all sorts of infections while losing precious time not playing outside with his cousins and peers. His existence on this planet would be forever marked by a challenging medical condition, going through test after test to ensure he was cancer-free, and leaving his parents always on the lookout for sequelae from the treatment or even other cancers in the future.

I am relieved to say that after that weekend of hell on earth, my cousin was diagnosed to have a severe form of a virus infection which brought his blood counts as high as one would see in blood cancer, but not cancer cancer itself. He will most certainly recover from this, and crossing my fingers - and toes- the word “cancer” will never cross his path again.

Having had a glimpse of what the cancer world could bring to a person’s life, and to their family and friends and all people who love them, I hold much more respect for cancer warriors and survivors. I can just imagine how infinitely magnified that sensation of numbness that I experienced for a full of 48 hours is for someone who is actually dealing with the disease, yet they still continue living their life not only as patients, but as parents, daughters/sons, siblings, friends, colleagues, with so many responsibilities to fulfill, and taking in all the emotions from the people around them. Children with cancer might develop psychological problems during treatment, and the diagnosis and treatment can impair their emotional functioning. The traumatic experience of cancer puts children at a higher risk of long-term social, emotional and behavioural difficulties. They may experience anxiety, withdrawn behaviour and behavioural issues, academic difficulties and even post-traumatic stress. Parents of children with cancer can also feel anxiety, depression and symptoms of PTSD.

Now I have a greater appreciation for why cancer patients, both young and not so young, their families and loved ones should be called Heroes