I re-live every step of our journey as I am reading through your story. So many similar feelings and questions. The thought of even asking about a clinical trial did not come to mind for us. I don’t think I was even aware that something like that might be an option. There definitely needs to be more answers for our men with breast cancer.
In the moment, one doesn’t know what to ask. When you are on the cancer train - it takes every ounce of energy just to live from day to day. Yes, the answers for male breast cancer are insufficient.
I, too, know intimately what this kind of moment in the process of treating cancer is like. Your continued efforts to find help in a clinical trial is worth it. Keep searching. You are in a better position than most anyone to understand that there is more to know about how breast cancer must work differently in men than in women. Ironically, the shoe is on the other foot here re the historically poor research data on how women are different in all kinds of diseases.
But, meanwhile, for what it’s worth and in response to “I needed help with my grief.”... It brought to mind your recent post “How We Got Our Mornings Back”. I’m struck at the similarity of that stomach dropping feeling when we dare to make the best move we know of and experience the subsequent fear that something bad might happen. Letting children directly experience the real-world consequences of irresponsibility for getting to school on time is surely a lower stakes risk than the life and death situation of cancer. They don’t compare.
Or do they? One is a lesser version, but the human emotion involved is quite parallel. Circumstantial ingredients in both: Acting in love and care with the best resources available with an acknowledged lack of experience and incomplete information. Awareness that the outcomes could be excellent OR terrible. Disruption of most familiar and habitual orders. Emotional consequences in both: Having to abide uncertainty in an unnerving way. Battling trust and mistrust of self in judgment and decision making. Desperation for not KNOWING. Fear.
So, perhaps, the lesser trial you have already survived will have a gift for you for this moment too.
There is a place at a higher, more inexplicable level where, after we have done all that is possible and, resting in knowing we have done this, we can only continue breathing while what is beyond us takes over from there. Here, beyond mere words, we can only let our hearts speak. And wait for Grace.
@Mary Lynn Garner I am always left speechless by your wisdom and eloquence with words. I feel like I have learned a lot from you about the fragility of life and the beauty of acceptance. Once again, I am humbled by your insight. With gratitude…
" I was not satisfied. I could have asked more questions but didn’t have the strength." Oh, how many times have I been there? I am so sorry. I stand with you in solidarity.
Thank you @Anne. I don’t know how to change the situation for the better when you are sitting grief-stricken in the doctor’s office and can’t utter a word. Often, I couldn’t even take notes…
I re-live every step of our journey as I am reading through your story. So many similar feelings and questions. The thought of even asking about a clinical trial did not come to mind for us. I don’t think I was even aware that something like that might be an option. There definitely needs to be more answers for our men with breast cancer.
In the moment, one doesn’t know what to ask. When you are on the cancer train - it takes every ounce of energy just to live from day to day. Yes, the answers for male breast cancer are insufficient.
I, too, know intimately what this kind of moment in the process of treating cancer is like. Your continued efforts to find help in a clinical trial is worth it. Keep searching. You are in a better position than most anyone to understand that there is more to know about how breast cancer must work differently in men than in women. Ironically, the shoe is on the other foot here re the historically poor research data on how women are different in all kinds of diseases.
But, meanwhile, for what it’s worth and in response to “I needed help with my grief.”... It brought to mind your recent post “How We Got Our Mornings Back”. I’m struck at the similarity of that stomach dropping feeling when we dare to make the best move we know of and experience the subsequent fear that something bad might happen. Letting children directly experience the real-world consequences of irresponsibility for getting to school on time is surely a lower stakes risk than the life and death situation of cancer. They don’t compare.
Or do they? One is a lesser version, but the human emotion involved is quite parallel. Circumstantial ingredients in both: Acting in love and care with the best resources available with an acknowledged lack of experience and incomplete information. Awareness that the outcomes could be excellent OR terrible. Disruption of most familiar and habitual orders. Emotional consequences in both: Having to abide uncertainty in an unnerving way. Battling trust and mistrust of self in judgment and decision making. Desperation for not KNOWING. Fear.
So, perhaps, the lesser trial you have already survived will have a gift for you for this moment too.
There is a place at a higher, more inexplicable level where, after we have done all that is possible and, resting in knowing we have done this, we can only continue breathing while what is beyond us takes over from there. Here, beyond mere words, we can only let our hearts speak. And wait for Grace.
@Mary Lynn Garner I am always left speechless by your wisdom and eloquence with words. I feel like I have learned a lot from you about the fragility of life and the beauty of acceptance. Once again, I am humbled by your insight. With gratitude…
" I was not satisfied. I could have asked more questions but didn’t have the strength." Oh, how many times have I been there? I am so sorry. I stand with you in solidarity.
Thank you @Anne. I don’t know how to change the situation for the better when you are sitting grief-stricken in the doctor’s office and can’t utter a word. Often, I couldn’t even take notes…