Maybe I Will Die Before the Cure Comes. That Sucks

Maybe I will die before the cure comes. That sucks.

It’s a thought I don’t say out loud very often. Not because I’m ashamed of it, but because I know how confronting it sounds. It’s raw. It’s real. And it’s something that a lot of people with advanced cancer carry around in the back of their mind.

I’m not giving up. I’m not saying it’s definitely going to happen. But let’s be honest, it’s possible. And that possibility hurts in a way that’s hard to explain.

Hoping for a Cure While Knowing It Might Come Too Late

Every time I read about a new breakthrough in bowel cancer treatment, some new trial, some promising result, some “this could change everything” headline, I feel that flicker of hope. Like maybe, just maybe, we’re getting close. But it’s quickly followed by that gut punch of reality: even if they do find something incredible, the odds of it being available in time for me are low.

The truth is, even the most groundbreaking treatments take years to move through trials, approvals, and into actual use. And even then, access is often limited. It’s not like a cure is announced one day and available at your local hospital the next. There are layers. Bureaucracy. Politics. Cost. Availability.

So yeah, I might live long enough to hear about the cure. But not long enough to actually get it.

What I’m Really Hoping For Instead

Look, I’m not sitting around expecting a miracle. I’m not waiting for someone to knock on my door with a magical cure. What I am hoping for is this: treatments that can help me live longer. Treatments that can keep things stable. Treatments that buy me more time. That’s my version of hope right now.

If I can stay alive long enough for the next medical breakthrough, then maybe that one will buy me more time. And maybe the one after that buys me even more. It’s like leaping from stone to stone across a river, just hoping each one will hold long enough for the next to appear.

I don’t need a cure to keep fighting. I just need something worth fighting for. And for me, that’s time.

The Rollercoaster of “Breakthroughs”

The media doesn’t help. You read a headline that says “New hope for cancer patients” and your heart skips a beat. You dive into the article, scan for the word “bowel,” hope it’s not just about mice in a lab, hope it’s not some niche genetic subtype you don’t have. And then you find it’s a Phase 1 trial with five people. Or it’s showing promise in pancreatic cancer but hasn’t been tested in bowel yet.

It’s a rollercoaster. You get your hopes up, then slam back into the reality of where you are. Late stage. No miracle in sight. Still stuck with the same options you had yesterday. Still waking up every day wondering if your body is going to hold on long enough for something new to come along.

Sometimes I wish I could just fast-forward five years. Just to know what’s coming. Just to see if all this waiting, all this fighting, is going to be worth it.

Legacy and Living in the Meantime

The hardest part about thinking there might be a cure one day, and that I might not live to see it, is that it makes everything feel so unfair. It makes the “what ifs” louder. What if I’d been diagnosed earlier? What if my cancer had responded better to treatment? What if I’d just had a little more time?

But the flip side of that thought is this: it makes me want to live the hell out of the time I do have.

I share my story. I advocate. I try to help others going through this. I try to make memories with the people I love. Because if I don’t get the cure, maybe someone else will. And maybe something I said or did helped push that needle forward.

It’s not fair. But it’s something. And that “something” is often what keeps me going.

Final Thought

I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I still hope every single day that the next scan is stable, the next trial opens up, the next treatment works. I’m hoping like a cure is just around the corner, while planning like it’s not.

Maybe I’ll die before the cure comes. That sucks. But I’m not going to waste the time I’ve got waiting for it. I’ll keep showing up. Keep speaking out. Keep holding on for as long as I can. Because even if I don’t make it to the finish line, I still believe in the race.