How do people develop stage 4 cancer without noticing until it’s too late?
The harsh truth about this kind of condition is that it may have been slowly eating you for years, before you even noticed a thing.
And then, sometimes the slightest sign announces the worst case scenario.
While you and I are reading and writing this post, there might be a dark possibility that cancer cells are spreading through our body as we speak.
By the thousands. By the millions.
The primary cancer might have spread to the bones, to the liver, to the lungs.
And still we might not feel or notice a thing — not for a long, long time.
Until the day comes that we do feel something, but nothing to worry about. (Right ?)
And so it begins.
[Breast cancer metastasis to the bones: the blackish parts show cancer hotspots and arthritis. ]
And we go to the family doctor to check out this little lump, and the doctor is worried. He knows our family history, he knows our age — he knows. And it makes us nervous.
Further medical investigation shows that we have Stage IV breast cancer, with metastasis to the bones. The MD tells us that we might not be alive in three to five years.
And everything stops.
We have young children, and we feel good and healthy ! (Right ?)
Four years later, all is lost.
We will never know our adult children, we will never be old, we will never make that dream family holiday to the States, we will never be a grandparent, and what’s even worse (if at all possible) —
We will become never.
And as we feel the horrific pain grow worse and worse, and still worse, we know for sure that we will be no more soon.
That in a couple of days, people will speak about us in the Past tense.
And we wonder how this could happen — we remember the beginning, and our chances in a dishonest fight, and our belief that we might make it in the end. How strong we were, how much energy we had to defeat this evil monster.
And how we would win.
But now we clearly see its dark shadows, and the others don’t. And we are too tired to think clear anymore. And to think it away.
And we know now that the end might be good — that we will go to sleep without this agonizing pain, and that they will remember us, and that our children will be okay. We will be cremated, and an audience will speak about us, miss us, read texts and poems about us, while our dead body will lie there, waiting for the fire. They will never forget.
And the pain will finally stop.
(Right ?)
SOURCES: the footnoted medical site and