My Indolent Children

Sometimes I wonder why I am not more scared of this cancer I have. It was dismaying to find out the final pathology diagnosed it as low-grade fibromyxoid sarcoma, which is described as a rare, indolent, type of cancer. But in the ensuing month since coming to grips that, no, this isn’t just a little benign bump in my leg… or wasn’t, I should say, as said bump has been surgically removed… I have felt ok with walking around and saying “I have cancer.”
Perhaps it is because I now feel like I am a member of a club growing in popularity. At the rate we are toxifying our home planet and our own bodies, soon everyone will be in the club! And I can say “Oh, I’ve been a member for years!” and tilt my nose to the sky and sniff haughtily.
And what’s more, I am special. I have such a rare form of cancer, I have trouble even finding information about it online. Most of what I read seem to be a rehashing of one particular clinical study and the little research done on FMS. Or LGFMS to be more accurate. So no commoner type of cancer for me! More haughty sniffing ensues.
One needs to know the acronym for one’s cancer. It helps speed up conversation and makes it sound more established.
“Well, my LGFMS seems to be under good control now.”
“Oh? Well you are lucky. My ACC is being a right little… monkey… now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Did you hear about so and so and their FMTC? They are experiencing SOB and the OS isn’t good for that.”
“Oh dear. TS.” (“That Sucks”… a common saying in the cancer world).

I am not so calm about the idea of having a huge chunk of my leg excised to remove any possible cancer cell insurgents who may be hiding in dank holes underground, waiting for just the right moment to resurrect the insurrection… but as for those insurgents themselves, well, frankly, they don’t scare me quite as much as they may have startled my oncologist surgeon.
These cells are mine after all. They are like my babies, like all the cells my body makes day after amazing day. And they take after their momma. Indolent is a word I would use to describe myself at perhaps too many points of my life. The definition of indolent is lazy, disinclined to activity.
Now, if you are going to have trouble-making cancer cells in your body, wouldn’t you rather have lazy ones?
“Hey man, we should all get together and get out there and convert more cells to our cause! We could bring this body down in no time!”
“What? Oh, yeah… we probably should. But I dunno. I’m kind of good. What about you guys? Anyone want to go foment some more unrest? You? No. Me neither. Let’s just take our time man, there’s no hurry. I’m sure we will get there one day. Just chill and relax. It’s good here.”
This is a much better cancer to have than some type A driven cancer that is so bent on world domination that it is out and about, terrifying local residents into joining the cause to topple the very body that keeps it alive. Hmm… okay… I think I see the problem with the notion of anarchy now. This is what happens when you let extremists win. Everyone loses.
But there is no telling when my lazy old sarcoma cells might just get the wrong idea in their head. The survivors, if there are any, may even be so mad at the excisional biopsy taking away their little clubhouse and comrades, that they are already motivated more and plotting revenge. So I’m giving the troops (my surgeon and his team) permission to go in and do the usual Western medicine overkill policy and root them all out. Hopefully no troublemakers will remain after that, because if I was a surviving cancer cell after this, I’d probably be so pissed that indolence will be the last thing on my mind.
Hmmm.. I seem to have gotten worried now.
Perhaps after the operation…. I should give it a codename like Operation Final Removal… perhaps I should drop pamphlets and care packages to the remaining residents of the area in the hopes that if any LGFMS survivors are hiding out, they will see how benevolent and nice the world can be and will be happy to not only return to indolence, but perhaps even decide to become somnolent.
A somnolent sarcoma cell sounds much easier to manage. Shhh… let the little cutie sleep.