Leaving Cancer in Paris

by Nancy King

author Nancy King in Paris. @Suzan Hall.The voice on the other end of the phone was exultant. “I’ve found a house exchange on Craig’s list. I’m going to Paris for two weeks. I leave in ten days.”

Envy, like a mass of kudzu, took up every bit of space inside me. It was all I could do to congratulate her. I wanted to go to Paris. I wanted to eat croissants and drink wine, see great art, walk along the Seine. Instead, I was waiting to learn the results of the bone marrow biopsy, pretty sure I was facing a third bout of leukemia, having a port put into my chest, chemotherapy . . .

“Want to come with me?” she asked.

I wanted to say yes. Yes. Yes.Yes. Instead, I felt like a five-year old. “I can’t tell you. I have an appointment with Dr. L. tomorrow. He’ll give me the test results. Could I call you after I talk with him?”

“Sure. Good luck tomorrow.” I hung up feeling depressed, deprived, and despondent.

He didn’t waste any time. “There are hairy cells (cancer cells) in your bone marrow and peripheral blood. I think we should start treatment right away. I’ll give you the number to schedule the port implantation, and when the incision is healed, we’ll start chemo. Any questions?”

“Yes. A friend invited me to go to Paris for two weeks. Do you think I’m well enough to go with her?”

“If it were me? I’d go in a heartbeat.”

Feelings of exultation almost overwhelmed me but I managed to say. “Treatment postponed. I’m going to Paris.” We hugged. I skipped out of the Cancer Center, too joyful to take one step at a time. In the car, I called my friend. “Yes. Yes. Yes! I’m coming.”

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Cancer Diagnosis: No Chirps, Please

by Nancy King

The outer trip to the oncologist’s office takes about fifteen minutes from my house. The inner journey, which has been going on for twenty-four years, continues. One can be in remission from leukemia, but there’s no knowing for how long. It can return, seemingly from one day to the next, with no warning except perhaps for unusual fatigue and weird sweating. I’ve learned to live with the uncertainty of remission by telling myself, “For the moment, all is well.”

Since being diagnosed with cancer I’ve gotten a lot of advice, most of it unasked for. Much of it makes me want to scream, or worse. I have been told: “Cancer is a gift.” “You have to have a positive attitude or you won’t get well.” “You’ve always taken such good care of yourself, how can you have cancer?” “If you dwell on the dark side you’re going to make yourself even more sick.” “What have you done to bring this on yourself?” “You’re lucky, they have medicine for the kind of leukemia you have.” It took me a long time to realize that most of their comments are fueled by their fear. Perhaps they think that acknowledging and facing the dark side of life is a trip from which there is no return. In my experience, it’s about discovering a healthy inner balance. I could not find my way back to life and light until I dealt with the dark side. It’s a scary journey but a return ticket is not only possible, it helps to create one’s new life.

Reading about people with cancer makes me wonder why it is that only positive thoughts are allowed.

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