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Faces of Lung Cancer

 



Stories of Hope

Priscilla Dewey Houghton, New York
Diagnosed in 1987 at age 64
Nonsmall cell lung cancer

“We don't know what it is that makes us the lucky ones, or what makes that little cell go out of whack for the first time, and maybe again. But we DO know there is help, there is treatment, there is recovery -- there is LIFE.”

  Priscilla Houghton
     

My lung cancer had always been a well-kept secret. My "therapy" was working with Hospice and other friends facing this grim diagnosis... I was one of the lucky ones, still alive, leading a full and productive life, working hard, riding a bike ten miles every day, drinking gallons of tea...

When I was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1987, my kids and I were still recovering from losing the battle of my husband, their father, four years earlier to renal cell cancer. He was 55 when diagnosed 58 when he died. This courageous man loved every day he lived, even with extreme pain, five major operations and paralysis during the two and a half years between his diagnosis and his death. It was a privilege to take care of him. He fought to survive every day of the way... So, four years later, when my chest x-ray showed a lesion and our lung surgeon snapped the CT scan onto the light frame, my daughter and I were professionals in the language of cancer. We shrank from that all-too-familiar enemy when he said, "there's the tumor." When I left my daughter at her house, to drive home, she said through her tears, "piece of cake, Mom." We both knew what that piece of cake would be like.

Priscilla Dewey Houghton and her husband, Rep. Amo Houghton
Priscilla Dewey Houghton and her husband, Rep. Amo Houghton of New York's 3rd District.

I knew the hypothetical odds. After I had a lobectomy, the odds changed...a huge shot at life. There was one thing I knew: I had to get back on my bicycle if I wanted to get better... My adult children walked beside my bike as I inched along for the first time, in a generation reversal... Maybe it's a fantasy, but I KNOW my ten-mile daily bike ride keeps my lungs, my legs, and my head working to their maximum potential. The adrenaline pumps, the antibodies charge, the spirit soars.

We don't know what it is that makes us the lucky ones, or what makes that little cell go out of whack for the first time, and maybe again. But we DO know there is help, there is treatment, there is recovery -- there is LIFE.