LOTTO

Would you play the lottery if you knew there was a 15% chance you'd lose?

What if there was an 85% chance you'd win?

Perspective.

That fateful day that Don and I first met Jerry, he explained the odds in my cancer lottery.  Past performance is not a guarantee of future results.  

I don't remember the exact numbers.  Or the exact circumstances that produced those exact numbers.

But it went something like this:

If, in addition to surgery, I had the 'adjuvant' treatment of chemotherapy, my odds of surviving cancer free for ten years increased. 

If, in addition to surgery AND chemotherapy, I had the 'adjuvant" treatment of radiation, my odds of surviving the 10 years without recurrence increased even more.  Somewhere in the neighborhood of 85% chance that I would be alive and cancer free in ten years.

Now, remember, I am pretty good at math.  Even without a calculator.

And it did not take me long to figure out that 85% chance of survival meant 15% of non-survival.  That is where I camped for many weeks.

Don said to me:  "Drenda.  You have to fight this.  You have to get better.  You have to fight."

Me? 

I cried.

All I could think of was the 15%.  

I never, never ever questioned Jerry's wisdom about treatment.  Of course I would do all the 'adjuncts'.  Absolutely.  This Mama has babies that still need her.  

But I was camped, in fear, on the 15%.  Terror so severe that medication was necessary.  So many evenings Don would only need to take one look at me and know.  

He'd say "Drenda, do you need a pill?"  

Or "Drenda, did you take your medication?"

Or "Drenda, I'll get your medicine."

Strong and courageous?  Me?

Hardly.

Strong and courageous?  Don?

Absolutely.  A rock.  My husband who promised...he PROMISED...to love and care for me.  In sickness and in health.   And he does.  

It was a long time before I could rejoice in the 85%.  

I remember the day.  At work.  Etched in my memory.

In response to a question from Lynn Peterson, I was recounting the statistics.  And I heard myself say "85% of women with the same type of cancer, detected at the same stage, are alive and cancer-free in ten years".  

It was the opposite of a 'punched in the stomach by cancer' moment.

It was weight lifted off of my shoulders.

Literally, I think.

Because I remember saying to Lynn:  "wow!  those are pretty good odds!"  And smiling.  A revelation to myself.

15% had turned over to 85%.

I'd certainly buy that lottery ticket.

Yep. 

And I'm gonna win!