Win H.

Lung Cancer, 13-year survivor

On Sunday, May 23, 1993, while rollerblading for exercise, I fell and broke my jaw. My wife Margie had been working at Mass General for over 20 years at that point, so we drove to the MGH emergency room rather than to the nearest hospital. I had the broken jaw, my teeth had gone through my lower lip, and I had some serious road rash on my left leg. At one point, they asked me if it hurt to breath, and they took x-rays when I said it did. In addition to broken ribs, they found a shadow on my lung and scheduled me for a CT scan the following Tuesday. I call the fall “my lucky break.” Margie started networking right away. We wanted a surgeon who was a communicator, someone who would tell us everything we wanted to know and would work in partnership with us.

John Wain was the surgeon we were hoping for. On that Friday, my 53rd birthday, he gave us the diagnosis: an adenocarcinoma in the upper lobe of my right lung. He showed us the scan and gave us a very full explanation of what he saw. He planned to go in and remove the tumor and hopefully that would be that. We went to our daughter’s college graduation the next day and told our family on Sunday.

The surgical procedure starts with a mediastinoscopy. Dr. Wain found metastatic cancer in two out of five lymph nodes sampled. The operation, which was supposed to last six or more hours, was over in two. The news that my lung cancer had metastasized was a greater blow than the original diagnosis had been. We knew firsthand what the implications of that news could be. I had held our best man’s hand at the moment he died of lung cancer in 1977.

Margie started networking again, and we connected with my oncologist, Jerry Younger, and my radiation oncologist, Noah Choi. Dr. Choi was in charge of an aggressive protocol of two rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, then surgery, and a final round of chemotherapy and radiation. Everything happens so fast, and it is hard to figure out what protocols are available and which might be best for you. We were reassured when we called another major hospital and found that they recommended the same protocol.

There’s no way to know how you are going to react. My first reaction was shock. My second reaction was, OK, this is a challenge and I am going to beat it. I feel fortunate that I never had a moment of feeling sorry for my self — I never asked, “Why me?” I said to myself, “OK, you’re going to test me? I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

I was able to work except for the times when I was hospitalized. I was admitted for chemotherapy, since it was a 72-hour infusion. I tolerated the first round of chemotherapy and radiation well, but the second knocked me for a loop. Between mouth sores and a sore throat, I wasn’t even able to swallow my saliva and had to be readmitted for dehydration.

On August 25th, after two rounds of radiation and chemotherapy, I went in for surgery. Bernie Siegel’s book, Love, Medicine and Miracles, made me aware of the powerful role the mind can play. A friend coached me in the use of meditation and imagery. My favorite place to go is a Japanese garden, which is peaceful and serene. The sound of water is an important part of my experience, and I used tapes of mountain streams. It was very important to me to have something to do and to feel I could have an impact on my outcome.

I had told Dr. Wain that I didn’t want any negative comments during the operation, and he assured me he didn’t allow negative comments or jokes in his operating room. He allowed me to bring with me into the operating room my tapes and a bag of charms, including an Egyptian symbol of life, a cross, a scapula, a crystal, a small rock found on a family trip, and a message from a fortune cookie that said, “Keep on charging the enemy as long as there is life.” I was blessed to have many people praying for me.

The final treatment of chemotherapy and radiation that followed my surgery wasn’t as bad as the one that preceded it.

For me, cancer has been a gift. The gift is mindfulness. When asked by a social worker about my goals, I said I wanted to do whatever I could to prevent a recurrence of cancer. She said, “You might want to rethink that goal. You can do everything right and still have a recurrence, and then you will have failed. Think about investing in the quality of the life you have. Whether your life is long or short, you can’t lose.” That was the best advice I have ever received.

I try to watch my nutrition. I exercise. I try to think about what is good for my immune system. And most of all, I try to live mindfully in the present. I’ve become very attuned to my body. In 1995, I developed chest pain when exercising and found I had a blocked right coronary artery, possibly due to my radiation treatment. My angioplasty worked until February of this year when I had a stent put in. This year, I have celebrated the birth of my third grandchild and my 13th anniversary as a cancer survivor. I feel blessed.