Prognosis

I've been asked what the prognosis is? The real answer is "I don't know." The good part of all of this is that I have the common cold of breast cancer so there is a lot of research on this particular kind. The reason they call people who have had cancer survivors, is that everything is given in statistics. Right now I'm hoping that my particular brand of tumor will be reactive to chemotherapy and that I'll fall into that nice group of folks who have a 10-year survivor rate. There are just so very many variables about "prognosis," that the only thing I feel I can do, is to aim every bit of my energy on selecting the best possible statistical chances and hope I'm not in the percentage that didn't make it to 10 years, or five years, or two years. That's how the stats are given. I'm going to select treatments that give me the best possible chances given my personal variables, but as Clemmons noted, "There are lies, damn lies and statistics." I now live in a world of statistical averages, and can only hope that my situation is in the "normal" part of the bell curve and not in the negative tail. (My statistical teacher would be so proud of me for being able to frame that last sentence!)

I have today. Today I am working at making it possible to have tomorrow. How many tomorrows I have are left up to forces much more mystical than my mortal brain can fathom. I'm hoping for more tomorrows, but enjoying life in the present a lot, just in case I don't fall into the "right" statistical group. All of us must die; some of us do it faster or slower than others. I don't know which category I will fall into ultimately, but I'm grateful for the 55 years I've had so far. Anything else will be a great grace, and I'm shooting for the 10 year stats.