to lobectomize or not to lobectomize, that is the question

Last Thursday's conference of cancer experts decided that my situation was not straightforward. I am learning that, in the world of cancer, nothing is straightforward.

Pathology determined that three distinct masses were removed from my lung on Feb. 5, but odds are that microscopic cancer cells remain, waiting to grow and spread. Cancer has a lot in common with the dandelions in my garden.

PET Scan images show additional cancer as "hot spots" in my lymph nodes, bone marrow and spleen, but the bone marrow biopsy, blood tests, x-rays, CT Scans and ultrasound aren't conclusive.

Best guess, official guess, is the adenocarcinoma (which was first diagnosed as squamous cell) hasn't spread beyond the left lung, and that the other hot spots are probably lymphoma. Drs. Ho and Evans, backed up by the rest of the conference members at the BC Cancer Agency, want to watch the lymphoma but do no treatment.

What they
want to do is
a lobectomy
(not a lobotomy,
a lobectomy!).

The "lobe" is the upper or superior lobe, and that's most of what's left of my left lung. "Ectomy" means cut the damned thing out and throw it in the incinerator.

Easy for them to say. I say, I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy, a comment attributed to Tom Waites, Dorothy Parker and WC Fields. All three seem likely candidates.

I'd like to know why the wedge resection was the first recommendation. Surely they knew then that there would be a possibility that microscopic cancer cells would be left behind. Why not just do the damned lobectomy in the first place, get it over with and not put me through two surgeries?

Dr. Ingrey says I'm making myself crazy with my "morbid curiosity" about my cancer. It's not an exact science, he admits, and there aren't definitive answers to all my questions. No point in looking for second opinions, because the conference provided numerous second opinions, which all agree.

Say buh-bye to lung lobe. Plan on 10-14 days in hospital followed by three months of recovery. Forget about being a marathon runner, an opera star or a long-distance swimmer.

"Doctor, after the surgery, will I be able to play the guitar?"
"Of course."
"Great! I've never been able to before!"

To be honest, I'm most concerned about the pain. I've never been a wuss, but this past year of procedures, topped off with that agonizing bone marrow aspiration, have left me with an almost desperate resolve to avoid any more. No so desparate that I'll refuse the lobectomy, but I'm not looking forward to it.

Besides, Dr. Ho is pregnant, due to have a baby any day now. I'm reluctant to whine about the discomfort of surgery to a woman who is about to give birth, which is sometimes described as passing a kidney stone as big as a pea. No sympathy there.

I should be happy, honoured perhaps, that some local Christians are praying for me. Two have told me that their prayers will cure my cancer. They are certain of this. Several others tell me that I've been put on a "prayer list," whatever that is. I picture a sheet of lined paper with a list of names and problems:

• Sam - lost his job;
• Debbie - lost her dog;
• Joe - alcoholic crackhead hoarder;
• Mary - house burned down;
• Pete - allergic to Viagra;
• Myrtle - cancer;
• And so on.

I tell these people that it's a waste of time to pray for an atheist, but they will not be deterred.

Some flatly refuse to believe I'm an atheist. Of course, they insist, I believe in God and the Hereafter, I just haven't admitted it to myself yet. Im in denial, but I will see the light, yes I will. Louise Berg surprised me with the information that it's easier to pray for an atheist than an agnostic. The mind boggles.

What frustrates me about all this Christian intervention is the absolute, blind faith that God will cure me because of third-party prayers, even though I'm convinced that God does not exist.

Let's pretend that there is a God. He would be the one who created my cancer, everyone's cancer in fact, because He creates everything. So now a few of His children are saying, "Hey, Big Dude, we think you screwed up on that one, so cure the cancer, willya."

They expect God will say, "Oh, okay, I made a mistake so I'll just change it." The God I learned about in Catechism did not make mistakes, and questioning His wisdom was a guaranteed one-way ticket to Hell. God has His reasons for everything He does.

Or maybe God is like a big, mean kid who pulls the wings off flies to watch them struggle helplessly, earthbound until some insect-eating creature comes along to gobble them up for a quick snack, or until they're crushed by the random stomp of a Size 12, black Dayton boot. 

Many people survive cancer, but I strongly suspect that God has nothing to do with it. It's likely the type of cancer, the individual's genetic makeup and overall health, medical treatment or a combination of the three. I'm certain it's not the work of a few of the flock at Christ the Redeemer Church in Pender Harbour.

Think of it another way. Consider all the people who die of cancer, each and every day, throughout the world. Odds are, some of them are really nice folks, they have friends who are Christians, and those Christians pray for the cancer to be cured.

Why does God not listen to them? Is God pissed at them for some Holy indescretion? Maybe they took His Name in vain (GODDAMMIT!) when they hit their thumb with a hammer? And so He's getting payback by letting their baby girl with leukemia die as punishment? God the drama queen.

In a small way, I envy these devout, God-fearing believers. Imagine the feeling of accomplishment, of joy, of power, when a lymphomectomy is successful and all sign of cancer are removed! Imagine how good it must feel to believe it was your prayers that saved the life of that person! Maybe a bit of an ego problem here? Ya think?

I'm certain of this: An eternity in God's company (heaven) is not a comforting thought. With the least bit of logical consideration, God appears to be a total whacko, and death without an afterlife sounds like a far more peaceful alternative.