It seems so unreal to me, that once cancer has spread to the brain, the afflicted person can still be in control and speak in rational terms, with that something gnawing away at what defines their very being. But at least, and it is still a very slim "least," Jimmy Carter's cancer seems to be treatable.
At another time, in another place, I still hear the doctor's voice, as he drew a rough diagram: one slightly smaller circle inside another. "If the cancer were a ball," and he paused to pencil in a small round blob on his sketch, "we could treat it with radiation. But it's not. It's here," and he used the pencil to darken the area between the two circles, "in the fluid surrounding the brain, so there is no way to treat it."
Time is an elusive quality, and sometimes you can buy a little of it, and other times there is no negotiating at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment