A blog series of words and terms common to the cancer journey by Rick Boulay M.D.
PUBLISHED January 04, 2018
Rick Boulay, M.D., is a board-certified gynecologic oncologist. When cancer faced his family and his medical training left him ill-prepared to manage the day-to-day needs of cancer treatment and survivorship, he found wisdom, support and love in the patients he treated. As a result, Dr. Boulay, who is also a singer, now writes and performs on topics at the intersection of cancer and society.
Cure kyo͝or/ verb
eliminate (a disease, condition, or injury) with medical treatment.1
Second only to diagnosis itself, nothing in the lexicon of the cancer journey conjures more emotion and power than the word “cure.” Strangely enough, “cure” rarely appears in medical literature. Clinicians only use this term when speaking with patients, not other doctors.
It’s not that we aren’t hopeful (OK…usually). And it’s not that we are noncommittal (now that’s a downright lie). It’s just that we’re … well… cautious and exacting. And we want our language to reflect what we truly believe. And “cure” is a really big commitment – one which cannot, must not be proven wrong over time. There is far too much pain and tragedy (and frankly, embarrassment) when we are wrong in pronouncing a cure to someone whose disease subsequently recurs. Instead, doctors prefer “five-year survival” and “remission” as more accurate terms in describing the condition where testing finds no further cancer in response to treatment.
As my colleague says, “The crystal ball’s a little cloudy.”
eliminate (a disease, condition, or injury) with medical treatment.1
Second only to diagnosis itself, nothing in the lexicon of the cancer journey conjures more emotion and power than the word “cure.” Strangely enough, “cure” rarely appears in medical literature. Clinicians only use this term when speaking with patients, not other doctors.
It’s not that we aren’t hopeful (OK…usually). And it’s not that we are noncommittal (now that’s a downright lie). It’s just that we’re … well… cautious and exacting. And we want our language to reflect what we truly believe. And “cure” is a really big commitment – one which cannot, must not be proven wrong over time. There is far too much pain and tragedy (and frankly, embarrassment) when we are wrong in pronouncing a cure to someone whose disease subsequently recurs. Instead, doctors prefer “five-year survival” and “remission” as more accurate terms in describing the condition where testing finds no further cancer in response to treatment.
As my colleague says, “The crystal ball’s a little cloudy.”
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