Prose To Go

A new American Cancer Society study debunks the myth that rural people don't get tested for cancer as early as their urban counterparts. African Americans, however, still have a greater chance of being diagnosed with a later-stage cancer.

The first part is no surprise, really. Cities are filled with pollution. If you're a smoker, you might as well concede that sooner or later you'll be dealing with cancer, heart disease or emphysema. Secondhand smokers are probably at higher risk in a city, too.

In a small town, you're more likely to know your neighbors and a doctor who can refer you for testing. Many people in small towns still live near or with their extended families who will look out for each other.

 The intriguing question is why aren't African Americans getting tested sooner? Obviously, if they are poor, they are less likely go to a doctor for regular check-ups.

Another ACS study found that while white women get breast cancer more often, black women are more likely to have it before they're 40. They are also less likely to survive it. While 90 percent of white women survive at least five years after diagnosis, blacks have a 77 percent rate.

The difference is mainly attributed to early detection. 

African Americans face several barriers to health care, including inadequate access, lack of health information and misconceptions about screening.

Some Emory University researchers initiated a public awareness campaign in Atlanta. Trained advocates visited churches, workplaces and health fairs to discuss misconceptions about breast cancer screening and encourage regular mammograms. Cancer survivors helped people diagnosed with breast cancer get treatment, assisting them with financial needs and support services. Most important, the survivors encourage women to keep their doctors' appointments.

The model could be duplicated in any major city, researchers say. Why wait for the program to come to you?

Why not spread the word at your church or office? When you get a mammogram, let your coworkers know and ask if they've had one. You could make an appointment together. Some women even make an afternoon of it, renting a limo and going for drinks afterward. It only takes 3 minutes to get tested.

That 3 minutes is miniscule compared to how many months or years might be cut from your life if you don't get tested. Think about it.

Hannah Powell-Auslam has had a single mastectomy and is undergoing chemotherapy. About 180,000 women this year will learn that they have the disease.

Hannah is only 10 years old. Her chances of contracting breast cancer were a little better than winning the California lottery: one in 1 million. She is one of only a few hundred children ever diagnosed with it.

Her family, who shaved their heads in solidarity, says that she is coping courageously. Like most children with cancer, Hannah has a positive attitude and isn't languishing in the pity pool.

Now the girl from Fullerton, Calif., is part of the Cancer Club, the one that everyone dreads. Most of us wouldn't wish cancer on her worst enemy, much less an innocent child.

Who knows why God chose Hannah to deal with the fatigue and pain that comes with chemo? Her parents would probably rather have the disease themselves than watch their daughter endure it.

Meanwhile, Hannah will emerge as a stronger person, one of about 11 million cancer survivors. When she is cured, she can thank God that she is young and resilient and gave it 110 percent.  

Doctors emphasize that parents should not insist upon breast self-exams and mammograms for pre-teens. There's no take-home lesson here.

It should make young girls think, however, about their bodies and informing their parents about abnormal changes. Hannah's diagnosis first began when she complained of itchiness in her chest; her mother found a lump.

Hannah's mother took her to the doctor and the cancer was detected early. She has excellent chances, as high as 90 percent, for a full recovery. Who knows, one day Hannah could celebrate her 100th birthday.

The way to beat cancer is to get tested early and often. Don't be afraid of this beast.

Read more about Hannah's journey at her family's blog. You go, girl!

The curious case of a 13-year-old boy living in Sleepy Eye, Minn., has probably caught your eye. Daniel Hauser has Hodgkin's disease, one of many types of lymphoma. His parents, Colleen and Anthony Hauser, have been resisting the state's efforts to force Daniel to undergo chemotherapy, citing religious reasons.

His mother even took the child and fled earlier this month after Minnesota child protection investigators and a judge determined the case to be medical neglect. The Hausers, who have eight children, are Catholics who believe in a "do no harm" philosophy espoused by American Indians known as the Nemenhah Band. This sect advocates natural healing methods.

Daniel has been called learning impaired and cannot read. He is completely dependent on his parents for guidance. He cannot vote, drive or marry legally.

Surprisingly enough, child neglect cases far outnumber physical abuse. Researchers estimate that as many as 80 percent of all cases reported are due to neglect, which includes not getting medical attention for an underage child.

Most states, of course, provide exemptions for families whose religious beliefs conflict with the child protection laws.

While the family should be able to decide what happens next, the fact is that with medical treatment, Daniel's survival chances are at least 90 percent. If he doesn't get the chemo and other recommended therapy, however, his chances are only 5 percent.

Psychologists say that Daniel, like many teens, is incapable of making treatment decisions. They say that Daniel is mostly focused on pleasing his parents. If he cannot read, how can he decide what to do?

While the adults in his life debate, Daniel is fighting a chest tumor pressing on his trachea, causing pain. He's probably having difficulty swallowing. He's running out of time.

Daniel had one round of chemo in February and needs five more, doctors say. What will happen if he doesn't get chemo? One thing's for sure. Alternative methods and prayers alone won't cure this illness; it's not going away unless he receives chemo, torturous as it is.

Chemo kills the good cells along with the bad. It's toxic but necessary if Daniel is to have any hope for survival.

Children survive cancer at amazingly high rates every day. They are resilient and have positive attitudes. Why won't Daniel's parents give him the best treatment available? What goes through their minds as they lie awake at night?

Painful and debilitating as it is, there's no question what will happen if Daniel doesn't receive chemo. He will die. 

Almost nine million people watched Farrah Fawcett's documentary on her anal cancer journey. Almost as many as the number of cancer survivors in this country.

Fantastic. We learned that Farrah is way more than a pretty face and gorgeous thick hair. That's how I always thought of her, at least. That Charlie's Angel with everything in the world. Men adored her physical beauty, tacking up that sexy poster everywhere and fantasizing about her soft, sweet voice. Women wanted to be her, pure and simple.

Yet cancer knows that no celebrity is immune. It taunts us, like the devil.

Watching Farrah praying and going through her days, exhausted and trying to cope with the stress of learning her cancer was returning to the original site and in her liver, I was awed by her spirit. Somehow, some way, she held it together even when her partner Ryan O'Neal, friend Alana Stewart and son Redmond O'Neal felt miserable, hopeless and lost.

That spirit is what sustains you through the cancer journey, the trek no one wants to take.

Dr. Wendy Schlessel Harpham was a doctor with three young children when she got the news no one wants. In 1990, the news yanked her across the great divide from physician to patient, as she writes in "Happiness in a Storm: Facing Illness and Embracing Life as a Healthy Survivor." She had non-Hodgkins lymphoma, a slow-growing cancer of the lymphatic system with no known cure.

As a doctor, she knew that what matters is not how long a person lives but how she lives. As she went through the dizzying cycle of tests, treatments and fatigue, she made a promise: "I will learn how to live my life most fully despite illness and maybe even because of it."

She was happily married and only 36, with children aged 2, 4 and 6, when she suffered from excruciating leg pain that led to her diagnosis.

"For them, I've always had blue eyes, brown hair and cancer," she writes. Their youthful honesty and outlook helped her shape her own attitude. As her oldest daughter Rebecca described, "Sometimes she's in treatment, and sometimes she's on a 'mission,' " her term for remission.

When Harpham's colleague also was diagnosed with lymphoma, Rebecca's response was: "You two can be survivors together!" Not exactly the way an adult reacts when he gets the news.

It's all part of being in the CC, the Cancer Club. It seeks you for membership relentlessly, whether you want to join or not. Like a nasty used-car salesman or a thief in the night.

As more and more people are learning, however, that devil can be dealt with. It may take your body parts, your hair, your physical beauty, but it can never rob you of your soul. You will always be the same person you were before cancer, only stronger. A new normal, as some of us like to call it.

Have you hugged your spirit today?

Today is a new day for Lisa's blog. I have decided that since cancer has been so insidious in my life, that I must kick its ass.

I like to say I was fortunate to have cancer at age 27. People stare at me, mouths agape. Who wants to be ill so young?

Because I survived. It wasn't a horrible cancer like what Farrah Fawcett is going through. I've seen my mother-in-law succumb to colon cancer. My dad is dealing with the same illness. I love to eat, so I can't imagine a worse deal.

Mine happened on my tongue first. A sore that wouldn't heal. Remember that. My dentist sent me to a specialist after three weeks. Talking to me as if I were a child, that doctor mentioned surgery, radiation ... it was a blur. He even notified me over the telephone. How kind of him. Not unusual, though, when I've shared stories with other Cancer Club members.

That's what I call it, the Cancer Club. There are over 10 million survivors in this country alone. CC membership does not discriminate. You can be 10 years old or 90, white, black or brown. You could be a doctor, steel worker, even a priest. No one is immune.

That's what makes it so scary. I never had a family history of head and neck cancer. I didn't smoke cigarettes or marijuana. Never touched either. I didn't drink a lot or take drugs. Well-meaning people asked me those questions over and over again.

Then there was that look of pity in their eyes. That was the worst. I didn't want their sympathy, I just wanted to be normal again. A woman with hopes and dreams, like everybody else on the planet. To succeed in my career, win some awards, maybe even a Pulitzer.

Not this, what was in 1989 still considered a death sentence. Not my specific cancer, although an intern had written in my file that I had a poor prognosis. Rather, I had an 85 percent chance of being cured. Being young with cancer is a blessing. You are otherwise very healthy. In fact, it's still considered an older person's illness. Which means that often it isn't detected soon enough.

When Kate Jackson described her friend Farrah's illness, she stressed the importance of early detection. Exactly. What a smart woman, I reveled. That is the answer.

We hate getting those tests. The colorectal one is incredibly icky, at least for me. Drinking that stuff and cleaning out your colon. Being hungry. Ugh. I once said we should make the terrorists do that one. It has to be worse than waterboarding.

Yet it is so worth it. Once you go through the test, you are so relieved. You know what you're dealing with. You're up to date, educated, better prepared to face your future. You can make plans with your children and friends. You're not hanging out in limbo anymore, waiting for test results. You can take control of your life again. You thank whatever God you pray to.

I was blessed that I had a dentist who sent me to that specialist. I ended up having surgery at the local cancer center which I cannot praise enough. Another gift is that one of the finest research centers in the world, H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center and Research Institute, is right here in Tampa. My surgeon saved my life and continues to practice here in town. He cured a friend of mine a few years ago, a law enforcement officer with plenty of good years ahead of him.

For good or bad, this is now a cancer-related blog. Because we have to kick its ass.