exposed

I have thought of Elizabeth Edwards often since her initial diagnosis with breast cancer in November of 2004. I was just finishing my treatments for the same kind and stage of breast cancer. At the time it felt eerily like handing off a rotting baton to a stranger whom had the misfortune of having the news of her disease broadcast everywhere. It seems even more errie now that we are both back at the same stage. In a way it's like being exposed; like swimming in a fish tank naked. I had the luxury for a few weeks of smiling at my friends and family and saying "It's treatable" and "my doctors are optimistic", which of course is only a lie in omission. Treatable isn't curable, and the prognosis is only a 20% chance of being alive in 5 years. And of course my doctors are optimistic; why would they want to come to me put things in any way but the very best light? But the press is out there and exposing this for what it is. Treatment is not a cure, and the cancer will be chronic for the rest of her life, however long that is. My friends and family (and people who really are strangers) have been calling since they've been hearing about her. It is not easy to smile away their concerns anymore, but I tell them that I still plan on living. I will still be planting tomatoes in a few weeks. I still plan on (hope to) take my daughter to Ireland for her high school graduation.

My heart goes out to Mrs. Edwards. It will be difficult to deal with the treatments that she will endure and have to do it in a fish tank. It would be lovely to think that there should be some protocol of privacy that could be extended to her, but that is not likely.