Electra & AML: The Big D

(See all posts related to Electra's ongoing treatment)

So, there's a certain topic I have thus far avoided delving into: death. You'll have to excuse me if this post is a little less structured than some of the others, but that is a reflection of my thoughts, which are themselves a little unclear.

The fact of the matter is that this affliction is very serious. I know that's obvious, but I try to focus on the positives as much as possible: the advances in treatment, the high rate of success, the progress that Electra has made so far. But left untreated, AML has a mortality rate of 100%, often within months. The treatments have come a long way (a colleague of mine told me of her aunt who was treated several decades ago at a time when all they could do was a full blood transfusion every week or so). But they are not perfect, and as we've seen with recent revelations, things do not always go as smoothly as one would hope.

At the end of the day, the odds are good in this case, but nothing is guaranteed. Electra and I had "the death talk" the last time I was up, and she has been pushing me to make sure that I truly accept the possibility; that I genuinely take to heart that the worst possible outcome is possible, no matter how unlikely. She asked me whether I truly accepted that, and to be honest… I just don't know.

In a philosophical sense of the word, of course, we're all dying. Death really is the only thing we can be sure of in life, trite though that might be. And I engage in activities on a regular basis that dramatically increase my chances of dying (I'm thinking specifically of cycling in London, though I have no doubt there are others). So to be in denial about mortality seems foolish. But there's acknowledging that in a logical, academic way, and then there's really taking it to heart. And I don't know if I've done the latter.

I know I don't like to think about it, and definitely don't like to talk about it. Writing this blog post is a way of forcing myself to discuss the topic, and perhaps that's what it'll take to make me really internalise the concept. I guess I'm somewhat in a form of intentional denial; like the proverbial ostrich, perhaps if I refuse to acknowledge the possibility, that chance will disappear. Or perhaps it's simpler than that: I know what's possible, and know how easy it can be to get hung up on that idea and the accompanying fear, and am trying to avoid that. Because I am scared; whether I truly accept it or not, I do know the possible outcomes and there are some I don't want to consider. It may not be the healthiest way of dealing with it, though.

I'm generally a pretty good guy to have around in a crisis. When things go very wrong, I keep my cool, I assess the situation and I tackle things rationally and calmly. I freak out and get stressed by small to medium issues, but when the shit really hits the fan, I tend to become very focused. The upshot of this is that I tend to tackle logistics: what needs to be done, by when, what is the best way to achieve it, etc. My concern, I suppose, is that this coping mechanism may allow me to gloss over the bigger issues, the greater fears and perpetuate my denial, intentional or otherwise. And I'm clever enough to know that's not the healthiest approach in the long run. So I will try to accept it, whatever that means.

I am confident that Electra will pull through this ordeal with flying colours. Two years from now, I expect we will be stronger, healthier and happier than before, and will deal with the long-term ramifications of her treatment as they come (regular checkups, possible long-term medication requirements, etc.) I really do feel this is the case. But the shadow of that grim spectre does loom, quietly and forebodingly in the corner of my awareness, and it's time for me to accept his presence. I am confident that we will stave off his advances, but I should not (nay, cannot) ignore his existence.