In the past month I have offered an oncology consult to a woman whose cancer was diagnosed eighteen years ago and declared cured thirteen years ago – a Jewish lifetime since diagnosis and long enough for a child to reach the age of Jewish maturity since her oncologic cure.
Such is the world of chronic illness. We don’t let ourselves think in terms of cure. We don’t let ourselves say we have had cancer, or had mental illness, or had lupus, but rather we are defined by them. We are living with schizophrenia, suffer from lupus, or at the best we are cancer survivors. The cancer is gone; it’s mark on us is indelible.
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