I read this article a few weeks ago about Avastin, which was at one time thought to be the great white hope for breast cancer. The article said the trial was abandoned because the tumors weren’t responding.
The article, of course, was factual, clinical as it should have been. It was in the New York Times after all. But I still felt duped and a little cheated that it didn’t say a word about Dena or Kelli or Emily or that it had been Emily’s last chance. It didn’t say anything about Emily’s last trip to Hawaii before the tumor in her abdomen officially took her life. It didn’t say anything about the pineapple upside down cake she served at her 30th birthday party, or her unintended last meal of peanut butter and jelly. It didn’t mention that she had begged to receive the drug even though it hadn’t been approved or proven. It didn’t say a thing about how excited she was to get it or how unresponsive her tumor was. It didn’t say anything about Emily, nothing at all.