Staying Alive by Jonathan Clements

I’m writing this from the infusion center, with my every-three-week cocktail of chemotherapy and immunotherapy drugs dripping into my right arm. And that’s good news.

It’s been a rough two-and-a-half months. In early October, an abdomen scan uncovered a pulmonary embolism, which landed me in hospital for two days and means I’m now on blood thinners. In early November, an MRI uncovered two new cancerous lesions on my brain, while another MRI later in the month turned up four lesions on my spine. All of the new lesions have now been zapped with radiation.

My fear: After some initial success in keeping my cancer at bay, it was now spreading fast. But this week’s scan showed no more new lesions, so my oncologist says we should stick with my current chemo and immunotherapy program, rather than trying my luck with a clinical trial. Indeed, the tumor on my lungs—which is where all the trouble began—is now smaller than when I started treatment.

There will be more new lesions, but the hope is they can be controlled with radiation. All this means I’ll likely have more time, that most precious of commodities. We’re talking extra months, not years, but I’ll take whatever I can get.

Is time more valuable than money? I’ve long believed that—but today I know it without a shred of doubt.