It Might Get Messy

Having cancer is officially a Bad Thing. It’s hard on the individual sufferer, and it is hard on society in general. About 1/3 of human beings die of cancer vs. all other causes. In terms of a functioning ecosystem, however, cancer probably comes as a net positive. It is an important component of “environmental resistance”, which is the ecosystem arranging things such that a runaway population of a single species—Homo sapiens, say—doesn’t run amok like lemmings on a Swedish island, consuming all available food and dying in place by the millions. 

Cancer is an ecologically “proper” disease. It strikes primarily after the victims have reached or passed reproductive age. The physiological processes that cause cancer (or allow it to occur) are complex and relatively rare, so sudden, massive outbreaks are uncommon. A functional ecosystem requires constraints on populations that would otherwise expand without end. Life, as we have discussed here before, requires death. A sort of flexible balance between birth and death is one of the components of a happy and healthy environment.

Quintessential “improper” diseases are those which are lethal, blow into town, infect a high proportion of the population, and then disappear as quickly as they arrived. They disrupt the regular comings and goings of matter and energy by throwing one or more population so far from equilibrium that the ecosystem reconfigures itself to account for this unanticipated disruption.

We are seeing in Africa an outbreak of Ebola, a hemorrhagic virus of savage means [1]. Mortality rates in infected individuals are very high, and the virus spreads easily. A closely related virus, Marburg, is waiting in the background, its population simmering beneath the boiling pot of Ebola. On a global scale, influenza remains an enormous threat, despite advances in prophylaxis and treatment. 

I bring this up by way of putting cancer into an ecological context. The tragedy of cancer is to the individual and his or her social circle. 

Which is certainly not to demean that tragedy. My own cancer has reached a
complex phase. With the lining of both lungs crowded with malignant cells and my liver involved, we are far beyond the point where any kind of remission is possible. Rather, we are simply trying to keep me alive and functioning for as long as possible. The collapse of my health after the first round of chemotherapy a few weeks ago landed me back in the hospital for almost a week. The next round of chemo will be a week from this coming Wednesday. One reason my health has sucked so much recently is my inability to “eat”. As many ways as I could try to get the UN emergency rations down, I could not get enough to maintain my weight. Meaning that not only am I dying of cancer, I was starving to death.

While the cancer portion of my medical problems is intractable, the dietician came up with a  work around for the starvation component. I now hook up to a peristaltic pump operating very slowly to drip the liquid food directly into my peg tube and thus my gut. I still feel bloated and full and often more-than-borderline nauseous, but I don’t have to force-feed myself. The pump does it for me. In fact, we set it up to run overnight so I end up eating pretty much 24/7. Which is bizarre. But just another example of how %^&*&^% complicated cancer treatment is.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the pump was dropping bits of a big cheese and bacon omelet, with a side of hash browns and a big mug of thick, bitter coffee. Alas (is that still a word? It looks more quaint than grammatical…). I’m getting the same non-dairy milky substance that I’ve been subsisting on for the past 3 years. 

Alack (I have absolutely no idea what that word means. I just associate in my head with early morning cartoons from the 60s where the protagonist (whatever talking rabbit, horse, moose, squirrel, mouse, etc. is in the starring role) says “Woe is me. Alas and alack.” So I’m going to go ahead and use it. If the grammar police bust me, the code phrase will be “to boldly go”. If you get an email from me with that phrase, it’s your cue to dress in phony Special Forces fatigues and bust me out of the Howard County Correctional Institution. They want correct? I’ll give ‘em correct. Alas and alack…. .

Things are about to get even more complicated here in Cancer Land (trademark, copyright). Discharged from the hospital last week after they stabilized my bleeding, breathing, and dehydration, I shifted my venue to home (we have a better cable package here than the hospital). On Monday next Dr. H is going to have me knocked out so he can perform the 10 minute procedure necessary to replace my rapidly-degrading feeding tube hardware. Then we’ll confab with Dr. T who will, on Wednesday, strap me into one of the recliners in the infusion clinic and dump in a bag of anti-cancer syrupy goo. Which should, according to all the doctors (I quizzed each separately in an attempt to get more honest opinions) be the one that actually starts slashing and burning the malignant tissues. 

I sure as hell hope so. And I REALLY hope I react better to this round of treatment. Because if I end up like I did last time, I’m going to be very, very bummed. Which will leave you, fans of this weblog no end of profanity, whining, and generally inappropriate prose. Until then, remember I love you all. I have rather dropped off the face of the earth…well, at least the email stream…the past few weeks, being too sick and weak to respond in polite and timely fashion. I’ll plug back into email and respond as needed. Thanks for being here for me, everyone. You provide the motivation for me to continue living and writing. So my thanks include your key role in keeping me alive. 

Rock on, everybody. Use ‘em while you got ‘em, because they aren’t forever. And they are damned precious when you DO have them!

Notes

[1] http://www.ctvnews.ca/health/ebola-outbreak-five-reasons-why-it-s-out-of-control-1.1971747