MD Anderson says it’s in remission. UCSF says it’s not. That’s confusing, especially when my most recent blood test showed a doubling of my PSA score. Furthermore, a year ago, UCSF said there was a 22% chance I’d live another 10 years and the next day they corrected that to an 80% chance of living at least another decade. Having stage-3 cancer requires both faith and ferociousness to handle the wide variety of news we receive. But, I will say I value each day more than ever in my life.
The Wall Street Journal recently published a moving article, A New Reality for Terminal Cancer: Longer Lives, With Chronic Uncertainty. It follows the story of Gwen Orilio, who was diagnosed with stage-four lung cancer at 31. A decade later, she’s still alive—not because she was cured, but because science has managed to stay “one step ahead” of her disease with a succession of treatments. Gwen’s story is both hopeful and sobering.
What struck me most was this paradox: medical advancements are turning terminal cancers into something resembling chronic conditions. People are living longer, sometimes for years, even decades. But those years often carry a heavy shadow—endless scans, side effects, financial strain, and what doctors have dubbed “scanxiety”: the dread of waiting to hear whether the latest treatment is still working.
Here’s the truth we’d rather not face: uncertainty has always been part of the human condition. Cancer just strips away the illusions that most of us cling to—that we’ll have more time, that tomorrow is guaranteed, that we can plan our way out of life’s precarity.
And yet, Gwen’s response is deeply instructive. She didn’t wait to start living fully until the clouds cleared. She began a retirement account at 41, after a decade of limbo. She spends money on making memories with her daughter, even when it stretches the budget. She dares to imagine a future, but she doesn’t delay joy.
Her story is a mirror for all of us. None of us knows how many chapters we have left. The question is: are we writing them with meaning, connection, and presence—or waiting until some mythical “later” arrives?
Maybe the lesson isn’t just about surviving cancer. It’s about living wisely in uncertainty. Because, in the end, that’s the only kind of life we ever have.
I’m so proud that MEA will be offering our first cancer-oriented workshop April 5-9, From Survive to Thrive: Cancer as a Catalyst for Deeper Meaning & Purpose, in Santa Fe with Dr. Caryn Lerman (Director of the USC Cancer Center, psychologist, and MEA alum) joining me.
-Chip