Facing Lung Cancer: A Personal Journey

“I have lung cancer?” I whispered to my doctor in disbelief over the phone. “I’m afraid so,” he replied, leaving me stunned. As I hung up, the room felt eerily still. I rushed to my husband Jimmy’s home office, seeking comfort and clarity, repeating, “It’s cancer.” Jimmy pulled me close and said, “Helene, I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re nothing special.”

Married for over 35 years, I knew he wasn’t dismissing me. His words were an attempt to reassure me in his logical way. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but truth often hides in unexpected places. Lung cancer ranks as the second most common cancer with over 200,000 diagnoses annually, according to the American Cancer Society. Most cases are detected late, reducing chances of survival. However, early detection can lead to discussions about recovery and even cures.

Four weeks prior, I was navigating Central Park swiftly on my way to an annual checkup. Having just finished a gym session with 30-pound kettlebells, I felt great at 63, undeterred by age—except in choosing jeans. My routine checkup included added tests like a chest X-ray due to my age, which my doctor recommended every five years for patients over 50. Noticing a white shadow on my right lung, my doctor wasn’t concerned initially. It might have been scar tissue or harmless spots. Yet, he suggested a CT scan out of caution. Aside from this, my health seemed excellent—but it wasn’t.

Results from the CT scan prompted further tests and eventually, the call confirming my lung cancer. I’ll never forget that moment. The 14 days between diagnosis and surgery felt interminable. I told few people and might have hidden it from my kids if not for a location-sharing app revealing my hospital visit on my anniversary. My children’s concerned call brought the reality home.

“You’re nothing special.”

My husband’s words were a comfort. They shifted my perspective from “Why me?” to “Why not me?” Research shows nearly 20 percent of women with lung cancer in the U.S. are nonsmokers. I was one among 22,000. Realizing that lung cancer isn’t selective eased the burden.

The human body, remarkable as mine was—having twins 31 years ago—can err. I introspected on causes but concluded that cancer isn’t a personal failure. During pre-surgery preparations, as my surgeon reviewed details, my husband jokingly inquired about his caffeine levels. Laughter ensued—my doctor had an earlier procedure and a panel on increasing lung cancer among nonsmoking women in South Korea.

My husband’s comment about me being “nothing special” drew a remark from an Irish nurse, which led to shared laughter—something I hadn’t done in weeks. Post-surgery, my doctor brought relief; the cancer hadn’t spread so no further treatment was needed. With a big smile, he advised, “Go enjoy your life. See you in six months for a CT scan.”

Eight months later, life feels different but stable. “Nothing special” remains my guiding thought. It helps in work rejections—I stay focused, aware of the freelance writer’s competitive world. A recent cough worried me briefly; winter illness wasn’t unique to me.

At my first six-month checkup, anxiety was palpable. Nurses reassured me the doctor would come soon. I reflected on the rising lung cancer numbers, a 6 percent increase among women since 2019. But with early detection and better treatments, survival isn’t rare anymore. I find peace in that reality.

Helene Rosenthal resides in Miami, writing about relationships that challenge us. Her work features in The New York Times, The Guardian, Slate, and more.