“The best way out is always through.” -Robert Frost
“Mr. Williams, the mass we took out of your neck was cancer. The surgery went well and I feel that we were able to remove all of it.” The surgery had, indeed, gone perfectly and I was feeling optimistic about his prognosis. Although his mass had been only mildly suspicious for cancer, we had been careful and had made certain that there were no other involved lymph nodes and no obvious sources for the tumor. Things were on-track.
“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” I was stunned. I had just given him good news. He had responded as though I had signed his death warrant.
“Not at all! I expect you will do well! We will send you for a course of radiation therapy.” His eyes widened and then closed tightly. He looked discouraged. Very discouraged. I was baffled. What could I say?
“Mr. Williams, tell me about people you know who have had cancer.” I thought I would get him to understand that there was hope.
“Have any of your family members or friends been treated successfully for cancer?” “No! Everyone I know who has had cancer has died!” This was not going well. Then the story came out.
“Thirty years ago, my wife had breast cancer. It was pretty advanced. She had that radical surgery but the cancer came right back. When they did radiation, her skin turned red and then fell off. Her whole chest looked like raw steak. She was miserable! I’m certain that the radiation killed her.” He stared a hole in the floor. We sat there silently.
“Mr. Williams, I’m sorry.” No response.
“Would you be willing to meet with the radiation oncologist to hear about the possibility of treatment?”
He did not look up.
“Yes.” A few weeks later, he was undergoing radiation. What courage does one need to begin a course of treatment you are not certain will help and that you are convinced killed your spouse? I cannot pretend to understand.