Picking up promising words that glisten in social media,
Forum posts, global medical press articles and Google scholar,
Emerging treatment targets buried deep in academia,
I read early clinical trials celebrating 9 months extra, with horror.
I feel relatively well; how can this be?
I prepare for the worst, but hope to defy statistics.
I refuse to believe this will happen to me?
When is the time to be positive or pessimistic?
Meticulously searching for eligible, global, clinical trials
Does my tumour have infiltrating lymphocytes and is this best?
Wondering if I’m allergic to Chinese hamsters in vials,
Ambiguity over different antibodies for PDL-1 status test.
Targeted treatment options limited,
I’m on the very edge of science, searching for hope.
Cancer cells lurking and all I want is to get rid.
Researching into the night; no time to mope.
Finally feeling I have narrowed my search,
I’m no scientist, but I’m driven to discover insight,
Back and forth between science and my life I lurch,
Being my own advocate, following the path I think is right.
Acquainted with this secondary tumour for less than a week,
Meeting the Principal Investigator, whose language I only partially speak,
Eligible through the reams of small print, but waiting for scans,
Not spread too far, big enough to measure is the result we seek.
Awaiting the results, continuing to read, making back-up plans.
Three weeks from secondary diagnosis to placebo/immunotherapy in hand,
Obsessive nature; no sleep; tenacious yet polite; everyone moving at speed,
Navigating changing hospitals; biopsied bits of tumour flown to distant land,
Late night forums; wonderful women who’s advice I heed.
Laser focus sacrificed presence now, for longer with my children,
Shutting down the outside. To go after what’s inside.
Driven to search for other ways,
And now I may have lots more days.
Started March 2019 finished July 2019