Toss the Magic 8 Ball

“So…what are we looking at in terms of time? Weeks? Months? Years?”  

Of all the difficult questions cancer patients, their loved ones, and the world at large ask, this is the worst.  It’s the worst because it’s emotionally-fraught. But it’s also the worst because it’s the most futile. 

When an oncologist is confronted with the “how long do I have” question, they may as well put a calendar on the wall and chuck a dart in its direction. There are so many variables that come into play, so many factors between NOW and THEN that can change the answer – hopefully for the better. Words meant to be reassuring sound unsettlingly vague: “It won’t happen fast.” (Define “fast.”) “She has plenty of time.” (“Plenty” in whose opinion – that’s pretty damn subjective.) No wonder doctors dance around the question; chances are their predictions have been wrong as often as they’ve been right. The only truthful answer is, “nobody knows.”

Unfortunately, “nobody knows” is a hard answer to give your friends and relatives when they raise the life-expectancy issue. It’s a true answer, but it sounds cold at best, and at worst, flippant.  As a result, your answer is usually overly long, because the list of variables that comes into play is lengthy and complex. “It could be years,” implies that it could also NOT be years. “It depends on how well the chemo works,” raises the possibility that chemo might not work. Is the patient planning to take frequent flights to unsettled, hostile nations? Prone to driving like a bat out of hell? Likely to go on a drinking binge before bungee jumping? Embroiled in an affair with a paramour whose spouse packs heat? There are lifestyle issues to consider that can effect one’s chances of “beating the odds.”

On the other hand, I relish replying “nobody knows” to casual acquaintances and virtual strangers who are simply prying. I call this syndrome ProgNOSEYness. If anyone who is not in your intimate circle of confidants is rude enough to call and ask the “how long” question, you have my permission to tell them to hang up and call God.

People with cancer handle the “how long” question in different ways. Some of my friends chose never to ask the question, not wanting to be burdened by an arbitrary date circled in their day planner. Others have asked the question the minute they received their diagnosis…only to spend hour upon hour debating ways in which to change an answer they did not like hearing.  Still others have been frustrated by their oncologist’s vague reply; no one really wants to hear their doctor say, “We have no idea.”

I admit it: I fell into the Magic 8 Ball trap. Last week, I paid a visit to remarkably accurate psychic, one whose predictions consistently come true (do not judge me!). As I nudged up against the “when” question I sensed I had crossed the line. “Your guess is as good as mine,” wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but it was a good answer, reassuring in a way.   “When” for my husband is so far in the future, he will die of old age – or be shot by a jealous husband -- before the cancer gets him.

That’s my guess and I’m sticking to it.