Lesson three: Knowlege is power(less)

Neutrophils, neutropenia, neuropathy, neurontin--do I really have to learn all this for the test?

If the test is cancer, the answer is yes. You do have to learn all this--but you'll need more knowledge than yours to pass the test.

They say that knowledge is power, but all my life I've accepted strict compartmentalization of that power. Let the doctors wield the power of neutrophils, neutropenia, neuropathy, and neurontin, and I'll focus on knowing about American authors, ecocriticism, pedagogy, and proper use of the subjunctive.

This scheme would be sufficient if the proper use of the subjunctive could help me survive cancer (Would that it were so!), but suddenly my vast but specialized knowledge left me powerless. So I set out to absorb a whole new field of knowledge, reading everything I could about endometrial cancer and its treatments.

All the guides to surviving cancer say the same thing: Know your disease! Greater knowledge will help you take charge of your treatment, make informed decisions, and manage the mystery that is cancer.

Mystery, however, rarely submits to management's power. The more I learned, the more I understood the vastness of my ignorance--and not just mine. Cancer research is studded with chasms of ignorance, huge gaping holes in the collective understanding of how cancer works, which treatments succeed, what side effects might show up in the long term. And some of the knowledge I gained left me feeling even more powerless.

Take neuropathy. Please.

My oncologist had warned me early on that one possible side effect of chemotherapy was peripheral neuropathy, which he described as a tingling in the fingertips--"But we can treat you for that," he said. I didn't bother reading about it at the time because my mind was occupied by other matters, like the constant need to know the fastest route to the nearest rest room. Through five rounds of chemotherapy I never showed a sign of neuropathy.

Then after my sixth round I noticed a change: I kept dropping things. I had to ask students to help me hand out papers in the classroom. My eyes wouldn't focus right and my mouth felt numb. I had trouble forming words.

I make my living forming words!

I felt helpless.

Time to learn about neuropathy. Let's see: numbness, tingling, pain, possible loss of balance and coordination, possible loss of bladder function...treatment can relieve symptoms but some nerve damage may be permanent.

Somehow, this knowledge wasn't pumping me up with the power to manage my disease.

So my oncologist prescribed neurontin, which had me feeling relatively normal within a few weeks, so when the prescription ran out, I didn't refill it right away. I felt fine! For about three days.

But then the neuropathy came back. Before refilling the prescription, I decided to learn more about it. I made the mistake of going online to read all the possible side effects of neurontin: dizziness and somnolence I can deal with, but what's this about possible amnesia, abnormal thinking, and amblyopia? I don't even know what amblyopia means! I learned that a very small percentage of patients developed the most alarming side effects, but that's comforting only if you're not part of that small percentage.

All this new knowledge left me feeling more powerful than a bleeding pullet. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and I simply wasn't equipped to sort through the little knowledge I had and separate the relevant from the anomalous. I needed reassurance from someone who knew how to wield this knowledge properly.

That's what doctors do. I find facts that kick me in the gut, but my oncologist puts those facts into context and soothes the pain. Knowledge is power when it is accompanied by the profound understanding and wisdom I can't possibly develop in a quick crash course on cancer.

Cancer taught me that no matter how much I cram for the test, I can't possibly pass it on my own knowledge alone.

The neurontin is gone, by the way. And so is the neuropathy. Don't ask me about neutrophils or neutropenia because I've already forgotten what they mean.