The Elephant in the room

I absolutely have. 

I'm thinking it right now. I've been thinking of it for over a month. Or maybe a lot longer than that, to be honest. 

Maybe you're also (rightfully) thinking it right now (about your own life, not mine.) 

My original appointment with my oncologist was always scheduled for the third week of February. And so what I honestly did between the day I learned I had cancer (which was a phone call, February 4) and the day I knew I was going in to meet with the doctor - in person - was purposely live in a little bubble. 

I guess I figured if I didn't know everything it meant I did not truly have to face it all yet. (this concept would come around again in a different way but we will get to that another time). 

This isn't to say that I didn't do anything at all. I picked up medications, made some important (and F*ing hard) phone calls to people in my life, scheduled other appointments. But I didn't really feel it yet. I admittedly didn't make any effort to.

So when the phone rang mid-day on February 12 with an invitation to move up my original appointment - that should have been the following Wednesday - to later that day it felt like someone had taken all my balloons* and popped each and every one of them.

In some cases, one might be thrilled. 

Fantastic. I can get the information I'm waiting on sooner. 

Brilliant. I don't have to sit in limbo another seven days. 

I would have happily sat a few more days without the whole picture.

This seems like a very obvious statement, so it is said with no intention of insulting anyone's intelligence. 

While cancer CANCER is this big, bold, hard, life-changing, never-good-news word, the experiences and outcomes vary greatly. 

Some are caught early. Some are slow growing. Some are local. Some are small. Some are well-known, well-funded, well-researched mother f'ers and some are not. 

I'm not going to categorize mine via a revisit of each of those words or terms. 

But here's the highlight reel: it has not been caught early, it's not local, it isn't small, and it is -by definition- rare. 

The type of cancer I have is a sarcoma, which makes up less than 1% of all diagnosed adult cancers each year. 

So what's the elephant in the room, I suspect you're wondering. 

To date, no cure has been found. There are treatments meant to help slow the growth of and shrink the tumors, as well as to lower the chances of spreading. But there is no one with this form of cancer who has yet to be cured of it and enter remission. 

And the first line of defense, the first option for treatment, has a relatively short efficacy. 

What's relatively short? 

If you spent the average four years in college earning a Bachelor's degree, this medication would get you an associate's degree. 

If you hurry. 

*I hate balloons