Reality rears it’s ugly head…
Amidst my feel good, optimistic ruminations of the last couple of days, I found out today that Patrick Swayze died today due to complications associated with metastatic pancreatic cancer. The 57 year old actor was diagnosed with PC in January, 2008 with Intraductal Papillary Mucinous Neoplasm (IPMN) a form of pancreatic cancer in which tumors grown in the pancreatic ducts.
While I was critical that Patrick (for those of you who don’t know, we PC survivors are all on a first name basis with one another), didn’t use his celebrity to raise more awareness of pancreatic cancer. According to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network, “This year over 42,000 people will be diagnosed with the disease and over 35,000 will die.” Yet, pancreatic cancer is the most under-funded among leading cancer killers, receiving less than 2 percent of the National Cancer Institute’s annual research budget. Everyone applauded Patrick’s participation in the “Stand Up to Cancer” to try and get public donations for cancer research, but I would have preferred that he use his celebrity to generate more focus on PC.
Patrick’s death, however, merely serves as a reminder of my own situation. I am currently in Chicago on a site visit for work and I was talking with a colleague about how I deal with the possibility of my own mortality. My answer (as I have reported here) is that I am able to be much more upbeat about the possibility of not “making it” when that possibility is abstract; that is, right now, I feel healthy…I’m told I look healthy…and my latest scan has indicated that there is no measurable cancer in my body. Under those circumstances, it’s easy to be upbeat.
Patrick’s death, however, just serves as a reminder that not everyone is as lucky as I have been. I am happy to report that I do not feel any more or less optimistic about my condition as a result of this news. Unlike with my father, I did not link my battle with cancer to the Swayze’s battle (we can also call each other by last name, if the mood strikes us). In fact, there is a part of me that does not mourn his passing — anyone who has followed his story knows that he continued to smoke even after his diagnosis (he even went so far as to admit that it was probably a less than optimal decision to keep smoking after his diagnosis). I do not celebrate his death, but I find it hard to muster emotions for someone who was willing to continue to engage in behaviors they KNEW were associated with poorer treatment outcomes. You might not agree with this sentiment, but – hey – it’s my blog, so I get to say what I want.
In the end, regardless of how I feel about what he did (or did not) do to participate in his treatment for, and/or raise awareness of, pancreatic cancer, I will simply say that I am sorry that another one of “us” has fallen to this disease. My condolences to Patrick’s wife Lisa and the rest of his family.
Merle