No Such Thing as a Good Kind of Cancer

Recently, there was great controversy stirred up by a UK pancreatic cancer charity, which launched a promotional campaign in which people spoke of wishing they had a different kind of cancer, because their outcome would be better. I was dismayed. Not only is this a misguided effort, it's downright dangerous. It leaves viewers with the idea that there is some "good cancer" out there, and that if one gets it, "no problem".

Such an unfortunate campaign sadly misinforms the public about the real face of cancer. In all my years, I've never known anyone to get a "good kind of cancer". Cancer is cancer -- a generic name for thousands of different kinds of biological reactions in the body that often attack organs and blood, creating tumors, autoimmune issues, and other maddening, life-changing, life-challenging issues.

In all my decades of life, I've seen so many things happen. People who had good prognoses died and people who had bad prognoses lived. You can't always predict how cancer will affect the body, and the idea that having a "good cancer" means you will survive is just wrong.

Don't believe me? Answer this question. Which vehicle would you prefer to be struck down in the street by at ninety miles an hour:

A. a 7-ton double-decker bus
B. a 2-ton Mercedes Benz
C. a  half-ton Fiat 500

Did you say the tiny, "cute" little Fiat? Did you perceive that because of its public aura, its marketing campaign, its ability to navigate through tight spots that you would be safer being struck by one? At ninety miles an hour, does it really matter what type of vehicle strikes you? I think not. Impact on the body is a critical factor in a traffic accident. The same is true of cancer's impact on the body. How much cancer is there? That's what helps to determine outcome. If doctors have to treat a body riddled with cancer, the chances of survival are about equal to being hit by any type of motor vehicle at ninety miles an hour.

Here's another question:

If you fell overboard without a life jacket, where would you have the best chance of surviving:

A. In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean
B. In the middle of Lake Superior
C. In the middle of the Amazon River

Three different bodies of water. Three different types of challenges and risks. You might think that the ocean is the most dangerous. After all, if there are sharks and other predators in the water, and the waves are rough, your survivability rate will be sharply curtailed. We know that the Amazon has piranhas, those nasty little fish that work themselves into a feeding frenzy, not to mention black caimans, those alligator relatives, and any number of other critters, so that's probably not a great option. If you said Lake Superior, did you consider things like the shipping traffic? Or the ongoing risk of hypothermia? Or the dangerous rip currents?

Whether you're about to be struck by a vehicle going ninety miles an hour or you're dropped into the middle of a huge body of treacherous water, the end result is the same. It probably won't end well.

The same is true for any advanced cancer. In this past two weeks, I have read the posts by friends who lamented the passing of this person and that person. They were all individuals with different kinds of cancer and they died.

I have also read wonderful things by people who survived their battles. Everywhere I go, in public, online, people share their stories with me. Never have I found that one kind of cancer is better than another when it comes to survivability. What matters is the stage, the treatment options, and the cancer patient's ability to sustain the effort. There are so many variables, so many ways things can go, no one is ever promised complete cure or extended life, except perhaps in Stage One, where it's easy to be optimistic.

Understanding the broad spectrum of diseases with the generic title of "cancer" is more complicated than most people appreciate. While the pancreatic cancer organization in the UK erred by their promotional campaign's suggestion that there are better kinds of cancers to have, I've seen people make the opposite mistake. I once had a conversation with a cancer caregiver who actually thought her husband's taking a pill once every couple of months was the same experience as my mother's being at the cancer center five days a week for months of treatment. It wasn't the difference between prostate cancer and lung cancer that was the problem. My mother was dying of the disease. She had no treatment options, other than to keep her comfortable. To have her cancer dismissed as the equivalent of an active man with managed prostate cancer fully engaged in life was hurtful. Four years after my mother's death, the same man is still going strong, still enjoying life. Do I begrudge him that time? Absolutely not. I'm glad he made it. I wish everyone did.

But I also wish his cancer caregiver understood the difference between a well-managed cancer and one that is out of control -- not through a failure by patient, caregiver or doctor, but because cancer is what it is. When it overtakes the body, options are fewer and the toll is much greater. We need to support cancer families in crisis with real action. We need to be there for them through thick and thin. These are the cancer patients who have the greatest hardships. These are the cancer caregivers who need a hand in providing care.

I wish everyone survived their bouts with cancer. That's really the bottom line. Many more do now than did forty years ago. Some people manage their cancers for a while, thanks to new treatments and better diagnoses. But there are still some people whose cancers are so aggressive, it's impossible for oncologists to do much other than try this or that. Cancer is still a mystery to figure out.

While it's tempting to attack with an "Occupy Cancer!" attitude, as if we can sit in and force cancer researchers to cure this type of cancer or that type, the fact is the developments in disease treatment are often made in unusual ways. Just recently, there was an announcement that doctors think a new acid bath for cancer cells might be an amazing weapon in the fight against cancer. Acid bath? It sounds so much better than a cancer drug that knocks patients on their fannies and sometimes even coldcocks them. In reality, it's not always the cancer that kills the patient. It's the rigors of the treatments, with the dangerous side effects. Many chemotherapy patients find their organs permanently damaged by the very treatments that keep them alive.

Getting hit by a Fiat going five miles an hour is probably a survivable event -- the impact on the body helps to determine the extent of the injuries. Getting hit by one going ninety miles an hour is probably not. Perspective is important when assessing cancer survivability, and the better able we are to see what is in front of us means we will act in good faith and to the best of our ability when meeting the cancer challenge.

Let's stop assuming that the happy face social media slaps on cancer is the real story. Let's stop thinking of the disease in terms of "good cancer" and "bad cancer". Let's stop thinking that some people are "lucky to have the good kind of cancer" and others are "unlucky". We need to join together in supporting every cancer patient, every cancer family, without the rancor or bitterness. Cancer is cancer. It doesn't care who you are or what you do or how much money you have in the bank. It doesn't care if you're a worthwhile person or the vilest of the vile. Cancer can't be dreamed up or wished away. It's a challenge that can only be met with a positive attitude, a realistic perspective, and a gritty determination to learn as much as we can to insure quality of life, not just quantity. Cancer is what it is, but life with cancer is what you make it. Choose wisely.

For more help as a cancer caregiver, visit The Practical Caregiver Guides