![]() She’s basically in a lasting relationship with the toilet road trips and space expeditions are probably out of the question. ![]() Sure, with cancer at any stage, life is technically on the line, but Christina’s life has been dramatically limited by her own disease. Her Crohn’s, an autoimmune disease in which your immune system inexplicably attacks your intestinal system, seemed worse to me. Only when my gynecologist felt a lump during an annual check-up did anyone realize I was incubating a bunch of rogue cells.Ĭhristina, on the other hand, felt a stabbing pain in her stomach after every meal. Plus, my cancer was asymptomatic, and the tumor had been chilling in my liver, likely for years, without my noticing. But at least I could take down a slice of birthday cake without a second thought. Yes, chemo sapped my strength: After a few brutal rounds, I couldn’t even stand long enough to use a microwave. “Yeah, but otherwise I was fine,” I replied. “You had to have chemo,” she pointed out. (I could say “final recurrence,” but I don’t want to jinx myself.) ![]() To wit: I’ve had cancer three times, the most recent recurrence concluding in a liver transplant. She thought cancer won out, primarily because once it makes itself at home in your body, evicting it can be tough. ![]() A few years ago, my sister and I debated which was worse: her Crohn’s disease or my stage-one cancer. ![]()
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