Several weeks ago I got a call from a friend who is also battling stage IV lung cancer. He’d gotten bad news; very bad news. His cancer had spread in such a way that his oncologist felt he had only three months to live with treatment but half that long without.
My friend was devastated, as was I. We talking openly about dying—something he couldn’t do easily with his family. I told him that our connection would remain no matter what happened next. He said he loved me. I had the feeling that this might be the last time we spoke.
But I also reminded him that there was really no way to know if this was it—that I too had once been told I had come to the end of options and yet here I was. That he should hold onto hope, because his situation could still change.
Yesterday I got a text message from him. His latest MRI and CT scan had showed reduction of tumor throughout his body.
We spoke again last night–this time the mood far less somber. He was still in a tough spot, but could once more see the horizon. A return to chemotherapy had reduced his tumor burden but he was already looking for the next potential therapy. He sounded like a man with a future.