Optimism fallacy

I read an article in More magazine on the weekend about the fallacy of positive thinking when it comes to cancer. There's a myriad of self-help books on the topic touting the immune-boosting effects of positivity and our culture has come to believe our emotional state is critical to our ability to fight disease, especially cancer.

"While the idea of "fighting" cancer is deeply rooted in our culture, there is no link between emotionall well-being and actual survival," says Cheryl Hawkes in her article The answer to cancer in the October 2010 issue. She goes on to say studies that tout the benefits of having a positive attitude are more likely to get published than those that say it has no effect. So that's why we've all be led to believe that positive thinking is the key to beating cancer.

While most of the time, I do believe a positive attitude can affect prognosis, today, I'm thankful this study pooh-poohs a good attitude because I'm pissed, sad and shocked. I went for my check up today and discovered, despite how awesome I feel, that my CA-125 is on the rise. This chemical marker to determine the presence of cancer steadily increased over my last two appointments.

I was absolutely certain I was in the clear. I went into the appointment today with the attitude I didn't need luck because I was more than fine. The CT scan six weeks ago showed the cancer shrinking and responding well to the chemo and Olaparib one-two punch. Yet at that same appointment, my CA-125 jumped from the 40s to 109. Ack.

When I found out about the jump during my appointment this morning, I tried to convince myself it was just a blip (although, to be honest, I was freaking out in the back of mind). Dr. H called himself this afternoon once he got today's CA-125 number of 250. Note: When the doctor calls himself, it's NOT good news.

This stupid disease is seriously out to get me. While I'm not ready to raise the white flag to it, I cringe at the thought of more chemo and treatment.

Although I tried to get Dr. H to talk about what would happen if I had two high CA-125 results in a row during my appointment - and before we knew it is indeed rising rapidly - he said we'd cross that bridge when we come to it. Damn it, we've crossed that stupid bridge now, haven't we?

So next steps are a CT scan and CA-125 during my next appointment on June 28. Yes, I have to wait five weeks with this worry and dread filling my heart before I know. He assured me we have "lots of options." What options?! What can I do? What will keep me alive? Crap. I feel so friggin' desperate.

During the phone call, Dr. H said he'd start gathering information about these many options to discuss at the next appointment. Regardless, none of them are going to be as good as enjoying the summer, living a normal life, working on projects that mean something and forgetting about cancer. Today I even optimistically told him there are days when I don't even think about cancer. Sigh, I guess those days are gone again.

I am absolutely horrifically despondant about this news.

To top it off, I feel I've let everyone down. Here I was supposed to be fine, supposed to be the Olaparib girl, supposed to stop putting everyone else through the worry and trauma of cancer, if even for a few months and yet, it looks like it's coming back. I know guilt is a useless emotion, but my good Catholic upbringing means I have it in spades.

Yet, I said to Michael tonight, I also feel I have no control. Regardless of what I do, the good attitude I have, the drugs I take, the good food I eat, the exercise regime I've established, this stupid disease is stronger, faster and more determined.

Then I say, "Why me? Haven't we been through enough?"

I hate throwing a wet blanket over everything with my bad news, especially for Michael's sister, who gets married in 2-1/2 weeks. I even contemplated keeping the news to myself, but that's not fair either. Nothing about this is fair.

I may need some shoulders to cry on or some steadfast people to keep me going over the waiting period (and beyond), I hope I can count on some of you.

Your angry, sad and shocked friend,
Tina
a.k.a. NOT the Olaparib poster girl