What are the odds?
A young couple in Brooklyn, Nathan and Elisa Bond, found out last month in one terrible week— that they both have aggressive and advanced cancer. I just read about this; and the numbers tell their sad story:
Nathan: age 38, Stage 3 colorectal cancer; 60% chance of surviving 5 years or more.
Elisa: age 36, Stage 4 breast cancer; 16% chance of surviving 5 years.
Sadie, their daughter: age 18 months.
It’s a heartbreaker.
And cancer really is a numbers game. Staging, tests, tumor size, and the odds for survival–all have numbers attached. Which seems appropriate since you feel like a number, anyway. The instant you get cancer you become a statistic.
The Bonds’ story and their numbers brought to mind something else I read this week. Dr. Peter B. Bach is a medical doctor who is writing a series about his wife’s cancer in the New York Times. She’s being treated by a trusted colleague—one of the world’s leading authorities on breast cancer. Naturally one of the first questions they asked was: what are the odds that her cancer would come back? They wanted a number, like those Nathan and Elisa were given.
But their oncologist refused, writes Dr. Bach: “Instead of just spitting out a number he went all philosophical on us. .. He said we should realize that it didn’t matter. It would either happen or it wouldn’t.”
I was stunned, says Dr. Bach. So was I, when I read it. After all, every cancer expert deals in probabilities, and cancer statistics are available on the internet to anyone. But the oncologist stuck to his position–and I agree with it.
I realize numbers are important for diagnosis and treatment. Only patients sometimes rely on numbers as if they’re like math we learn in school—with precise finite rules you can count on. But cancer doesn’t play by finite mathematical rules—because medicine is not an exact science; statistics tell only part of the story. And living by those numbers can drive you crazier than you already are from having cancer.
My math skills were really rusty—but I didn’t need calculus to weigh the odds. And the numbers made me numb. I was constantly calculating: if I lived 3 years, Daniel would be 10 when I died; Alli would be 14. I couldn’t stand obsessing every time I had a test; and finally I decided knowing the numbers wasn’t worth the stress. I chose not to see any results.
I don’t recommend this for everyone; but I do recommend not putting too much faith in numbers. Many patients defy the odds on both sides, and numbers don’t always hold up.
The truth is that for each individual those odds are meaningless—really, the odds are either 100 or 0. Each person who gets cancer is an individual scientific study; and the only number that matters is ONE—we each have one life.
I hope that Nathan and Elisa read the article by Dr. Bach, taking to heart that numbers don’t tell the whole story. And the rest of us can also take a message from the numbers—and count our blessings.
To read Nathan and Elisa’s blog about their journey, click here. Their friends have created Team Bond and a wonderful video to help support them with donations.
Savvy Working Gal says
I have a friend who has stage III melanoma. I am driving her crazy giving her numbers and statistics I’ve read on the internet. I found that stage III has a 60% chance of a recurrence in 5 years. Her doctor has told her the odds are more like 40%. He prescribed a year long regimen of interferon injections which may help fight off the recurrence longer. While taking this drug she will feel like she has the flu and may have complications due to her diabetes. She decided to forego the treatments. Instead she will be tested every six weeks for recurrence. Her attitude is similar to that of the oncologist in your post: It will either happen or it wouldn’t.” She says if it comes back she will just get it whacked off. She won’t read anything about cancer on the internet and when she heard newscasters talking about melanoma on TV she shut it off. She just wants her life back.
So I’ve decided to respect her wishes and stop rattling off statistics and to get back to normal conversations; her kids, shopping trips etc.
V says
D/
When I first read your piece this morning, I rushed through it as I was preparing for a conference call. When I went back and reread it, and went to the link of the Bonds’ video put together by their friends and then read Dr Bach’s article, I was really impacted. I have learned, through being there with you through your experience, what an overwhelming and yet intensely personal experience cancer is. The shock of a sudden diagnosis requires all the love, support and wise guidance available and yet there are no ‘right’ answers only the ones that are right for you. By combining these two stories with your own, I think you have captured that dichotomy well. You continue to always amaze me.
Love,
V/
Darryle Pollack says
Thanks so much for sharing your story. It’s a great example of what I was trying to say—having cancer is a scientific study of ONE. Not only is each case unique—but also unique are the ways we each respond. Your friend is choosing to react in the way that works for her—and personally I think that’s the best thing she can do—listen to her own instincts. Sometimes that’s hard for people who care, as you describe—–and I really respect your decision to respect her wishes. My husband just commented below and maybe said it best: in cancer there are no “right” decisions—only the ones that work for you. My best to your friend–and you.
Darryle Pollack says
I’m not surprised this story touched you—and I’m very touched that you made a comment, especially this one.
Though I chose not to count on the numbers when I had cancer, I’m so grateful I could count on YOU.
V-Grrrl @ Compost Studios says
This is an excellent post. We can only do the best we can do but the results in cancer treatment and all things in life are truly beyond our control and beyond prediction.
Darryle Pollack says
Absolutely true. And a good reason to live in the present.
Thanks so much for commenting.