In March, 23-year-old San Francisco Chronicle copy editor Alicia Parlette was diagnosed with a rare form of breast cancer. Her doctors soon discovered that she also had bone and lung cancer. Alicia decided that, instead of struggle with her serious illness in private, that she would share every step with the rest of the world:

I was set up to see other doctors and with a plan to meet again, but no treatment. No concrete options. I noticed myself stepping back and thinking of it as a play, not my life. This was too horrific to be my life.

As I sat there, I could feel myself detach. And in that moment I thought, "What a great story this will make." That's when I knew I was a writer. When things were more frightening than I could ever imagine and my tiny little existence was spinning and careening out of control, my first reaction was to think about recasting it as a drama, as a struggle, as a way to share my little existence that didn't seem so little anymore.

This week, the San Francisco Chronicle is running a new part of her story every day. Alicia struggles with, but details, every aspect of her battle - the memory of her mother who died of cancer, her paralyzing fear of needles, even her own funeral plans.

Dr. Jahan looked at me. I hadn't been paying attention. He said, "We want to find the best options to increase your chance of survival."

I went cold. I hadn't known there was only a chance of survival. He talked more about what interferon could do. "This will be an uphill battle," he said. All I could think of was cross-country, like he was talking about a race, not my life...As he finished, he said, "I'm not going to say whether I think you're curable. Some doctors might look at you and say, 'She's not curable,' but I don't want to think in terms of curable and not curable. We're just going to do all we can."

Some doctors might say I'm not curable. Some doctors might say I'm going to die. Some doctors might not treat me. I felt like my vision was narrowing, like I was shutting down. I couldn't move, and I couldn't look at my dad and Niki. I didn't want them to believe I wasn't curable.

Every year in the United States, 70,000 people between the ages of 15 and 40 are diagnosed with cancer. This represents a small percentage of overall cancer cases - 90% of pediatric cases occur before the age of 15; 90% of adult cases occur after the age of 40. This often means, however, that doctors delay or miss cancer diagnoses in young adults. The development of specialized research for young adult cancers has only begun within the last few years, with survival rates actually declining for patients diagnosed between the ages of 25-35.

I post this story in the memory of Stephanie W., who was diagnosed with brain cancer mere months after we graduated from college. She died last October, at the age of 24, on the same day that I had surgery to remove pre-cancerous growths from my own body.

Subrosa

San Francisco, CA

July 2004

JUN 09, 2005 02:05 PM

Thank you for this, honey. I needed that perspective.

I actually bought the paper they started this story in, but I didn't get a chance to read it. I'll have to see if I can find it.

datsun

Richmond, CA

October 2004

JUN 09, 2005 05:17 PM

I've spent some time dealing with precancerous growths and abnormal cells in my body. I'm glad to hear she will be helping to raise awareness. my thoughts are with her.

And I am sorry for your loss.

gut666

Moreno Valley, CA

April 2005

JUN 09, 2005 06:03 PM

cancer sucks . my dad beat colon cancer. but you always gotta be careful . hope you are healing well.