Talking Point: Shouldering cancer’s huge burden
THE Governor of Tasmania Kate Warner shares her own experiences of a disease which affects most Australians at some time.
Opinion
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AS the patron of Cancer Council Tasmania I have been pleased to support a number of events to promote the work of the Cancer Council this year.
The first such event was the Relay for Life at Penguin. My husband Dick and I attended this event in March and were overwhelmed by the community spirit and support residents of the North-West Coast gave to Cancer Council Tasmania. More than 100 teams and 1900 participants gathered and walked to celebrate survivors and sufferers and to pay tribute to lost loved ones.
The second event was Australia’s Biggest Morning Tea in May. The large teacup and saucer sat in the front paddock at Government House to launch and advertise this fundraising event.
And in June we hosted a reception at Government House to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Cancer Council Tasmania and to thank the supporters, donors, sponsors and the hundreds of volunteers who contribute to the work of the Council in the transport2treatment program, as support group facilitators and support centre volunteers.
The burden of cancer in Australia is huge. One in two Australian men and one in three Australian women will be diagnosed with cancer by the age of 85. The five-year survival rate is around two thirds. It is not surprising then that all of us are likely to have at least one close family member or friend who has been diagnosed with cancer. And it is also likely that we will have a family member or friend who has died from the disease. It seems not a month goes by without learning that another person, who we know personally, is battling this disease.
In my case, in 2008 three close family members spanning three generations were diagnosed with cancer in a period of four months, including my husband and my mother. Thankfully all survived the five-year period. But I have had close friends who have not been so fortunate. Two have died, leaving a partner and children bereft. And I have a dear friend and colleague for whom, in her words, “it is not if but when”. She ruefully quips that the only good thing is that it is too late for her to be deprived of her best asset, her breasts. I am constantly amazed by her courage and ability to make light of her situation.
A striking feature of my second-hand cancer experience is how differently people deal with such a diagnosis. My husband Dick did not want it to be known outside a narrow need-to-know circle, at least through the first months of radiation, chemotherapy, surgery and slow recovery. In other words, he accepted that family and close friends and some work colleagues needed to know and he welcomed visits, particularly when he was confined to our home during a long convalescence.
Visits were a welcome distraction, provided the conversation was about anything but cancer or health. He did not appreciate my mention to an acquaintance that he had cancer, which led to a well-intentioned visit from a cancer survivor who wanted to compare scars and discuss details of their treatment.
Others, I know, get great comfort in being able to discuss their condition and all aspects of their treatment and its side effects with as many people as possible. For them these discussions assist in coping with the trauma and helping their recovery. Others want to withdraw from society.
Hazel, the teenager with Stage 4 thyroid cancer in John Green’s wonderfully insightful novel, The Fault in our Stars, explained to her mother her reasons for not going out – she said, “I’m like a grenade Mom, and at some point I am going to blow up and I would like to minimise the casualties.”
I know that, for a friend whose husband was also diagnosed with cancer, secrecy about the diagnosis is not easy. It’s always the elephant in the room. When you meet an acquaintance who asks cheerfully after you and your family and you respond equally cheerfully with a “fine, thank you”, not being able to confide in friends is not at all easy. In my friend’s case, her husband did not want anyone to know, and she struggled with being unable to discuss it.
Understanding the needs of those who are diagnosed with this disease should be respected. But that’s not always easy for their families. So that is the first point I would like to make in this message: people respond and deal with the diagnosis of this disease in very different ways.
In this respect I found The Fault in Our Stars wonderfully perceptive and helpful in thinking about how to interact with people with cancer. I like the way the characters subvert empty platitudes and the way the book exposes the unintended cruelty behind encouragement and optimism directed at the terminally ill when there is no hope.
But beware, not everyone likes the book. Some find it shallow and pretentious and the film of the book has been described as a “phony-baloney cancer fantasy”. Maybe it’s a book that suffers from being too popular.
The second point I want to make is about prevention and early diagnosis. While the number of new cancer cases doubled between 1982 and 2010, cancer mortality rates have fallen (from 209 to 172 deaths per 100,000 between 1982 and 2011). Early diagnosis is important. In the case of my three family members they were, it seems, diagnosed before the primary cancer had metastasised. So it is vitally important to be aware of your body, to follow up anomalies, lumps or bleeding and not procrastinate or postpone doing so until you have time to deal with it – make the time to deal with it immediately.
Melanoma is the fourth most commonly diagnosed cancer in Australia and can be deadly. I was into my 30s by the time the Slip Slop Slap! campaign was released in 1981 and the damage to my rather fair skin by many years of sunbaking and sun exposure was well and truly done.
As a result I have annual skin checks and basal cell carcinomas erupt in the most unlikely places, places that have not seen a ray of sunlight in decades. Fortunately, no serious skin cancers have been detected. But my body has been punctured by biopsies and excisions and I now wear a piece of my bottom on my leg!
I am hoping that greater care and the daily application of 50+ sunscreen, even in winter, will avoid skin grafts, more excisions and the discomfort of a blazingly hot and red peeling face from photodynamic therapy. The importance of regular testing and recommended checks can’t be overemphasised.
The work of Cancer Council Tasmania covers prevention, early diagnosis, support and research. I would like to show my support and encouragement for all aspects of their important work and to thank their many sponsors, supporters and volunteers.