when my friend’s son was diagnosed with chronic myeloid leukemia (cml) — a rare blood cancer — in guatemala where he lived, the only outcome was death. despite the fact that cml treatment, which could be medication or a stem cell transplant, was available in many other parts of the world, there was no hope for anyone with cml in this central american country.
as a canadian, she sought help from canada’s children’s hospitals, including toronto’s sickkids. getting a reply to her many letters was the first victory. the second was the opportunity to talk with a cml specialist in canada about her son’s disease and prognosis — he was dying and time was running out.
ten per cent. that’s what the chances were that her son would live, according to this doctor, who then asked, “do you still want to try?”
looked at another way, he had a 90 per cent chance of dying. yikes.
when i was diagnosed with the same cancer, my doctor told me that i had a better chance of dying from being hit by a bus than dying from the cancer. it sounded promising at first, but if i thought about it too much, i became unclear of what it actually meant for me. after all, as random as being mowed down by a bus seems, it could happen. for example, in the u.k.,
roughly two people for every million
will die in an accident involving a bus — there’s
one chance in 305,644
for people living in the united states. not wildly likely, but not impossible either. so while the analogy was supposed to illustrate the low risk of dying from cml and thus ease my worry, it was such a random and obscure comparison that it didn’t give me a sense of prognosis-confidence that i could hang my hat on.