Facing Lung Cancer: A Journey of Realization and Acceptance

“I have lung cancer?” I whispered to my doctor on the phone, trying to comprehend the news. “I am afraid so,” he replied, confirming my fears. After ending the call, my surroundings seemed to pause, as if anticipating a storm. Rushing to my husband Jimmy’s office, I found solace there while struggling to articulate the shocking news: “It’s cancer.”

Jimmy, my husband for over 35 years, responded with an unexpected attempt at comfort. “Helene, I am sorry to tell you, but you’re nothing special.” His words felt jarring, yet I knew he sought to console me with his pragmatic approach. As unconventional as his words were, they contained a kernel of truth. Lung cancer is diagnosed in over 200,000 people annually, the American Cancer Society reports. Often discovered after spreading, it significantly reduces survival chances. When identified early, discussions move from survival to potential cures.

Four weeks prior, I was briskly walking through Central Park toward my annual health check. I felt energetic, having finished a gym session involving 30-pound kettlebells. At 63, the only limitation age imposed was avoiding certain fashion choices. My doctor included extra tests in my checkup, such as a chest X-ray, for patients over 50. Standing with him, I observed a white shadow on my right lung that wasn’t present before. His initial assessment suggested benign causes, yet he recommended a CT scan for clarity.

The scan results initiated a series of tests—a PET scan and then a biopsy—which ultimately led to that fateful phone call. Everyone remembers the circumstances when hearing “You have cancer.” The wait between diagnosis and surgery, though 14 days, felt like an eternity. I told few about my condition and might have hidden it from my children if not for a location-sharing app revealing my anniversary spent at a hospital. Their questions about my well-being opened the conversation.

Reflecting on my husband’s words helped anchor me. Relinquishing any uniqueness allowed me to consider, “Why not me?” Statistics indicate that nearly 20% of non-smoking American women are diagnosed with lung cancer. I was part of those 22,000 cases. This realization brought a deeper understanding of being human. Despite our bodies’ capabilities, errors happen.
I prepared for a lobectomy to remove part of my lung, pondering my surgeon’s morning caffeine intake, as humor lightened the moment. An amused nurse remarked on my husband’s humor, to which I merely acknowledged, “It’s a long story.”

Post-surgery brought positive news—early detection meant no need for chemotherapy or radiation. My doctor encouraged me to enjoy life until a follow-up CT scan in six months. Now, eight months later, I no longer sense impending doom. I embrace the mantra that supported me throughout. It’s a reminder during work rejections to stay tenacious, recognizing the competitive writing landscape. A winter cough echoes this reminder—illness circulates widely.

My mantra faced a true test during my first six-month checkup. I felt anything but calm awaiting results, reminded of the growing number of yearly lung cancer diagnoses. Since 2019, lung cancer in women has risen by 6%. Enhanced therapies and early detection make surviving increasingly commonplace; I am content with this reality.

Helene Rosenthal, based in Miami, writes about familial and social relationships. Her essays feature in outlets like The New York Times and The Guardian. The views shared here are her own.