Sometime during the Covid pandemic, I learned that Kathy Griffin had lung cancer. Last week, I heard her on a podcast where she touched on her surgery and recovery briefly, before discussing politics and comedy. She said had half her lung removed – which I assume was a lobectomy like my wife had. She said her cancer was Stage 1 and that she was cured.
When my wife was diagnosed with lung cancer, we were told that surgery would cure her too – because they hadn’t detected that any cancer had spread beyond the tumor which was going to be removed.
When my wife had the surgery, they found the cancer had spread elsewhere. From there, it got worse and she died 8 months later.
So, I’m skeptical. I will always be now when it comes to cancer and doctor’s claims. But I hope for Kathy that the results will be different than they were for my wife. I wish her a long and healthy life.
I was surprisingly upset when I first heard about Kathy’s cancer and again when she popped up as a guest on the podcast. It made me feel sad. It bought up feelings of resentment toward the health system and doctors who I feel misled my wife and “milked” her insurance with unnecessary tests, treatments and procedures that prolonged her suffering.
It triggered a flood of sad memories about the last 8 months of my wife’s life. Those were the worst 8 months my life.
After the podcast, I had a dream in which I was telling someone about my wife and her death. In the dream I choked up and began sobbing. I broke down completely.
When I woke up, there were tears streaming down my face.
That hasn’t happened in a while.
According to the American Lung Association:
- 500,000 people in the US are living with lung cancer
- 250,000 new people in the US are diagnosed
- 140,000 people die from it annually
So my wife was not unique. She had it. It spread quickly and it killed her. Like it has for many others.
I wish it hadn’t.
I’ve got nothing else to say.