A friend once shared a profound truth with me: comparison is the thief of joy. Think about that and let it sink in for a minute. I’m sure we’ve all seen a child who is perfectly happy with their favorite toy—it’s the best! This toy brings them such joy each day they can’t wait to get up in the morning to begin playing. But when the child next door comes home with the latest and greatest version, suddenly the toy that brought them immeasurable joy in the morning is no longer good enough by dinner time. This isn’t just a phenomenon of the 10 and under set—as adults we do the same thing. The car we were perfectly satisfied with when we drove to work in the morning, suddenly isn’t up to par when our coworker pulls up in a brand new Tesla. The joy we felt at finally losing those 10 pounds flys out the window when someone we aren’t even close with shares they just lost 20 pounds. Social media, unfortunately, makes this even worse as you compare your everyday struggles to the highlight reel posted by your “friends.” And let’s not forget there is an entire industry—the advertising industry—whose sole reason for existence is to make us feel dissatisfaction with what we have so that we will buy the product they are selling.
This thief was alive and well and at work in the waiting room at the Infusion Center at MDA Friday morning. The waiting area at MDA Woodlands is huge with large windows overlooking a wooded area, art on the walls, and comfortable, socially-distanced seating throughout. There were a lot of patients waiting and I finally found a seat almost in the dead center of the room. I have found the isolation of COVID extends to the waiting room—the usual banter between patients waiting to see the doctor or for chemo is gone. Silence prevails with most of us passing the time lost in our own thoughts, doing crossword puzzles, or reading. The only conversations are via phone with friends and loved ones at home, or those waiting in the parking lot for hours in the heat and humidity. As I waited, I became aware of a woman a few seats over talking on the phone. She was very excited because she had just seen her doctor and gotten the results of the MRI and ultrasound from the day before. After just two rounds of A/C (Adriamycin and Cytoxan) her tumor had shrunk over 80%! I know there are probably thousands of types of cancer, but listening to her story and knowing her treatment mirrored mine, I jumped wholeheartedly to the conclusion she also had triple negative breast cancer. That’s when the devil loosed his flaming arrow of comparison—her tumors had responded by over 80% to just two treatments of A/C while my last ultrasound had shown my tumors had shrunk by only 19% after four treatments of A/C. Whatever joy I felt when I got to MDA that morning was being sucked down the drain because of a snippet of conversation overheard in the waiting room.
As I sat watching the Abraxane drip into my body and ruminated over the conversation I had overheard, I realized nothing had changed about my cancer or my treatment in the last hour. Just because standard chemo was working on that woman’s tumor didn’t mean that the treatment regimen I was on wouldn’t work for mine. It was up to me to choose joy. I decided to pull a faithful friend out of my toolbox—name three things about my cancer that I am grateful for:
Number One: My tumors express the protein PD-L1. Not all triple negative breast cancers do. The fact that my particular tumor expresses this particular protein opens the door to my receiving immunotherapy targeting this pathway. I am confident this treatment will lead to the eradication of my cancer.
Number Two: I am able to receive cutting-edge treatment at MDA. Participation in the Artemis Clinical Trial means my doctors discovered my tumors weren’t responding to chemo much earlier than they would have with standard treatment—8 weeks as opposed to 20 plus weeks. This also gives me a second shot at annihilating my chemo-insensitive tumors with targeted immunotherapy.
Number Three: I am tolerating the new treatment well and have very few side-effects. Compared to the A/C this new treatment is a piece of cake. I don’t need anti-nausea meds, I walk 3 miles every single day (including the day of and day after treatment), my appetite is good and I sleep well. And even though I’ve now lost all my eyelashes and most of my eyebrows, Madison says she can see a little peach fuzz sprouting on my bald head!
God has been there, every step of this difficult road, providing for my needs. His guiding hand has led me to this point. He doesn’t provide for my needs in the same way He may for the next woman with triple negative breast cancer. I get what I need—she gets what she needs. “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with the weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 God’s grace is all I need.
This coming Friday I will be back on the main campus to receive the investigative therapy along with the Abraxane. So far my counts, although low, are holding steady and I pray this continues. I have now completed 25% of my pre-surgery immunotherapy and chemotherapy treatments. Weekly trips to Houston are getting a bit old, but knowing every trip is one step closer to being done helps us keep going.
T.S.CONLAY 