With Cancer, I’ll Take All The Luck I Can Get

Debby Tepper Glick I am not a superstitious person. I believe in science and cold hard facts. But how could I not take it as a sign of good luck when a pre...

Debby Tepper GlickI am not a superstitious person. I believe in science and cold hard facts. But how could I not take it as a sign of good luck when a pressed four-leaf clear clover fell out of an old dictionary I found at a used book store?I thought about the significance of that four-leaf clover as I packed my to-go bag for an upcoming appointment at The Hillman Cancer Center’s Radiology Department. This will be scan No. 14.Upon arrival I’ll change into a flimsy gown and be escorted into a room that is always cold. I’ll lay down on the table with my arms positioned above my head. The machine will whirl and hum while moving me in and out of a cavernous tunnel, as a monotone, recorded voice instructs me to “Breathe in. Hold your breath. Breathe.”It’s over in minutes but still gives me enough time to think of the luck, both good and bad, I’ve experienced in the past couple of years.It started with an ache in my ribs three years ago that wouldn’t go away. That was CAT scan No. 1. The doctor assured me my ribs were fine but there was a suspicious spot on one of my lungs. I should get it checked out.That was the beginning.This wasn’t my first rodeo. Twenty years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was younger then and a little more gung ho. When well-meaning friends and family told me I would beat cancer because of my positive attitude, I wanted to believe them. I donned my pink t-shirts, attended rallies and marched with my comrades in arms.That was then. Now when I hear anyone talking about the benefits of positivity I want to scream. Who has the energy to be brave and “fight the good fight” when you’re trying not to throw up? Does it mean you are flunking cancer if all you want to do is crawl under the blankets?It makes me cringe when I read an obit stating the dearly departed has died after a long battle with cancer, or a short battle with cancer, or a courageous battle with cancer. Can we stop talking about “the battle” and recognize the fact that cancer doesn’t care about anyone’s attitude? It does not care if you are a fighter or a coward, a good person or a miserable excuse of a human being.Cancer is gonna do what cancer is gonna do. That’s its job.I don’t mean to sound cynical. Nor am I asserting cancer resistant to treatment. Far from it. New and better therapies are here, with more progress coming down the pipeline. But as marvelous as modern medicine is, it can’t rival being dealt a winning hand when you need it the most. Luck is cancer’s kryptonite.My mother used to tell me, mazel, the Hebrew word for luck, is everything. She was right. But the residents of Cancerland know, especially those of us with more advanced stages of the disease, that good luck can go south in a New York minute. We are all just one scan away from bad news.The New Oxford American Dictionary defines luck as “success or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one’s own actions.”I have my own definition. It involves, by chance, getting stage 4 lung cancer at a time when research in the field is blossoming with new treatments available. By chance, living near a renowned cancer center with the world’s best oncologists, nurses and technicians. By chance, having good health insurance. By chance, marrying the right guy and having supportive family and friends.Shortly after I was diagnosed, my cousin’s wife, Kathy, wrote me a heartfelt letter of support. As an afterthought she enclosed a penny that had fallen out of her desk drawer. I’ve held onto that penny all this time.A lucky penny? Perhaps. A four-leaf clover foreshadowing a little more longevity? I hope so. It might not be grounded in science, but as I approach scan No. 14, I’ll look for serendipity wherever I can find it.Breathe in. Hold your breath. Breathe.(Debby Tepper Glick can be reached at [email protected])