You’re all watching this, right? You’ve already watched it?
Good. I need to re-watch a time or two more before I give you my bullet points, but wow.
Hot off the press for my policy class about being a patient and looking at treatment options and statistics. No good choices yet.
The Fear & The Data
I’m the kind of patient who wants to, no insists, on knowing the numbers. When I was diagnosed with melanoma a little bit more than a year ago the sentence after “the tumor is malignant” was me asking “how deep.” I already had the tumor staging chart in front of me. That’s not true. It was dark, I was outside, and I had that thing memorized. My tumor was staged 2B, my stats are 60% survival at 5 years. I absolutely consent to a wide tumor excision and sentinel node excision. I am unable to undergo the recommended course of immunotherapy (12 month course) for adjuvant treatment that would have got me an additional 7% survival, due to my comorbid Lupus. I look for second and third and fourth opinions, and find a reputable oncologist with specific experience in my sub-type of melanoma who recommends adjuvant cutaneous radiation. The doc, my radiation oncologist, and I pull the best studies we can and make a good argument for radiation therapy in reducing recurrence of melanoma at the site (and more than 80% of melanomas of my subtype reoccur at the site) by 12-15%. SOLD! For $6,000 out-of-pocket, 6 weeks of my life, and 2 months of healing third degree burns and radiation toxicity. Steep. But fear is a powerful motivator. And fear of abandoning your young child? I mean I don’t have to tell you.
Would I have done the radiation for 5% reduced recurrence? I am aware that radiation can cause late malignancies. But REGRET. I could never forgive myself a lost chance to raise my child. Despite my lack of faith in integrity of studies in general, my non-surprise at aberrant results, and my belief that as a young person I may have more bounce back in me, I cling to the numbers with fear and with hope. Some people see themselves as the exception. I can’t help but see myself as the rule.