Five years ago today I embarked on a new journey. That was the day that I sat on the grass beside a nature trail overlooking a beautiful lake while my doctor reluctantly told me that I had cancer! No, he wasn’t hiking with me. Richard and I were camping with our daughter and her children about three hours from home when Dr H phoned with the results of tests that I’d had done before leaving home the day before. We were planning to drop Melaina and the kids off in Calgary the following morning and continue on to Vancouver, but when I was told “this can’t wait” those plans suddenly changed. It would be another two weeks before I found out exactly what kind of cancer I had and even longer before I learned that it was incurable.
Five years is usually considered an important benchmark in cancer survival. Five years cancer-free or in complete remission has traditionally been seen as a milestone when a patient could say that their chances of having that cancer return was no longer likely. It’s a point at which they can, at the very least, be cautiously optimistic. But what of those of us who, barring a miracle, will never be cancer-free?
Sometime shortly after learning that I had cancer, we read that the average life expectancy for a neuroendocrine (NETS) cancer patient was five years following diagnosis. Well here I am five years later and still very much alive! Not only that, but as far as we know, the cancer has not grown or spread since that time. In fact, thanks to the PRRT treatments that I’ve been receiving, some of the tumours appear to have shrunk and one might even be gone altogether. I say “as far as we know” because I had CT scans last Tuesday and I won’t get the results until I meet with the doctor on September 19th.
As I reflect on those early days of uncertainty when I had no real expectation that I’d still be here today, I realize how very much I have to be thankful for. Immediately after diagnosis, I prayed for two very specific things: that I would live to see Melaina’s unborn baby (she was 10 or 11 weeks pregnant when I was diagnosed) and that I would see our youngest son married. I was definitely going out on a limb with that one as there was no young lady in his life at that time! Not only was I in the delivery room for Simon’s birth, but he’s now four and a half years old. I call him my “velcro” boy because whenever we’re together, he practically attaches himself to me. In addition, Nate has been married to our beautiful daughter-in-law, Colleen, for over three years.
So how does one celebrate five years of living with an incurable cancer? After all, it’s my cancerversary! I thought about planning a trip, something really momentous, but that didn’t happen. In fact, I’m not actually doing anything very special at all. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that whether you have cancer or not, every day is a gift. Every day is worth celebrating! The nurse was just here to give me my monthly injection. In awhile we’ll go out for lunch at The Wooden Spoon and then if the weather warms up a bit and the wind doesn’t blow too fiercely, we’ll take the kayak out on one of the lakes not too far from here.
Following Augustine 
I remember that “day” so well. You have handled this journey with such grace and courage. Here’s to the next 5!
Thank you! I’m so glad you were at the other end of the phone that day! ❤
Your courage and grace are inspiring, Elaine. Praise God for your continued health!
Thank you, Lois! I give all the glory to Him!
Praising God for your health! Praying for continued good news, too!
Thank you, Charlene!
Congratulations! Your faith and spirit are surely at the root of your good health. Well done! Thanks be to God. xo
Thank you, Heather! I do believe that God is in control and also that a positive attitude contributes to good health.
❤❤❤
I agree. EVERYday is a gift.
You understand!
I was delighted to come across your blog today. Like you, I am a Canadian retired teacher and love it. I always say “No”, too, if asked if I miss teaching. I also had a cancer diagnosis on December 19, 2012, just a year after my husband died of pancreatic cancer. Most of 2013 was taken up with chemo and radiation treatments, the last on October 27, 2013.
So this year I am celebrating five years post treatment. I took a Colour Tour with Trafalgar to New England, visiting the states of Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. I called our last dinner together my “Victory Celebration” and raised a glass of sparkling ginger ale. The tour avoided the big cities, except for beginning and ending in Boston, and took us to scenic sites and charming villages.
I also have some additional challenges, the most limiting one is Congestive Heart Failure. But in all the cognitive impairment (chemo brain, widow fog) and extreme fatigue, I have great hope and comfort and solace in the beautiful promises of my beloved Scriptures. I do not moan or whine. I celebrate everything. I do not focus on what I can’t do, but relish what I can do. And that includes my Wednesday afternoon Line Dancing class with other very encouraging seniors.
I have also found great resources as I learn new ways to deal with life. One of the most pivotal for me was by a Vancouver MD, Gabor Mate. His book, When the Body Says No, literally changed my life, and perhaps saved it. His Youtube talk for caregivers brims with wisdom. The other helpful book was The Art of Extreme Self Care. Self care, at this stage of my life, is my “work”.
I wish you continued stability and great joys which somehow walk side by side with grief.
Honey Bee
How wonderful to “meet” you, Honey! We definitely have much in common. Thank you for the information regarding the books that you found so helpful. Perhaps I’ll see if our local library can get them in for me. I’m glad you enjoyed the blog and I hope you’ll come back regularly.