When I first heard the word lung cancer, my mind went blank. But a few days later the genetic test came back with a mutation called EGFR, and the doctor said we could try starting with a pill. I had been bracing myself for intravenous chemo, so when I was handed a single bottle of tablets, I felt strangely deflated. Could something this small really work, I wondered.
The targeted drug was just one tablet a day, taken at the same time. I settled on right after breakfast and set an alarm on my phone. After the first few weeks, my body told me before anything else whether it was the effect or the side effects. An acne-like rash rose on my face and chest, and there were more days of running to the bathroom. The doctor said this was common, and told me to use moisturizer and ointment for the rash and the medicine I had been given in advance for the diarrhea. Oddly, hearing that people who break out more tend to respond better to the drug, the flushed face in the mirror started to feel a little reassuring.
My nails and toenails splitting and festering at the sides was more of a nuisance than I expected. I picked up the habit of wearing rubber gloves while washing dishes and applying cream to my hands and feet often. Because my skin grew sensitive to sunlight, I took a hat and sunscreen whenever I went out. Only with time did I realize that these small, seemingly trivial routines were the very thing that let me stay on the drug to the end without stopping midway.
Around two months in, when I was told the tumor had shrunk noticeably on the scan, I stood for a long while as I left the consultation room. Breathing grew easier, and I started the walks I had given up. Work slowly came back into my hands. To anyone looking, I was just a person who took one pill a day. That was what I was most grateful for: not living tethered to the hospital, but simply living.
Still, one corner of my heart always holds the same shadow: that this drug will not work forever. The doctor told me honestly from the start that one day resistance could develop and the tumor could wake again. So as a scheduled scan approaches, I lose sleep for days beforehand. The waiting until I receive the results is something I never get used to, no matter how many times I go through it.
Even so, I have decided that if resistance comes, I will look for the next drug then. Once I learned that there really is a next line of treatment ready even after resistance, there was no reason to spoil today in advance. An ordinary day of taking my pill, eating, walking, and sleeping. Protecting that ordinariness is the most important thing I do right now.
This article relays one person's experience; side effects and treatment responses differ from person to person. Please discuss medication and symptom management with your own care team.