Facing Cancer Together: Jim and Melanie’s Patient-Caregiver Story

Sue McCarthy received diagnoses of breast cancer in 2001 and lung cancer in 2018. Catch up on all of Sue's blogs here!

In late 2017, incidental findings on a CT revealed two primary tumors, one in each of my lungs. Because of the rarity of a diagnosis of multiple primary tumors, my case was sent to the hospital Tumor Board for evaluation. It was determined that I would have both tumors biopsied. When those biopsies revealed malignancy, two surgeries followed. Lymph nodes were removed from my chest during the first operation. In the spring of 2018, my cancer was diagnosed as stage 3B non-small cell lung cancer; I was given a 30% chance of survival.

My treatment plan would include cisplatin chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and Imfinzi (durvalumab), a checkpoint inhibitor immunotherapy. Chemotherapy was the most challenging part of my treatment journey. I suffered all of the typical chemotherapy side effects and a few more. On one particularly emotionally and physically exhausting night, anxiety gripped me as I struggled to rest or even sleep. I could hardly stand up; I suffered from vomiting and diarrhea. In my mind, I replayed memories of my mother’s chemotherapy experience in the mid-1990s.

The following Sunday, I first attended the cancer support group at my church. My husband took me, and we sat at a large rectangular table with about 10 others who had been affected by cancer in some way. Some were patients, others caretakers, and a few were good friends or family members of a patient. I had gone to St. Peregrine’s, the support group, just once, mainly because I had never seen myself as a support group person.

However, I decided to return to the group when they resumed after not meeting during the 2020-2021 pandemic.

It was sometime in the fall of 2021 when the group again met; I was in remission at that time. There was only one other person in attendance that day, but in the next few months, more of the members returned, and I met Jim and his wife, Melanie. Meeting the two of them, I found Jim a rather quiet, mellow guy; Melanie was much more outgoing. It was standard procedure at St. Peregrine’s to go around the table, sharing our various cancer journeys or relationships to others who had received a cancer diagnosis.

As Jim shared his story, he told us that he had noticed a lump in his upper arm under the skin. Initially, he thought it was an injury, possibly a muscle issue. However, it was not. Jim was diagnosed with a sarcoma, a soft tissue cancer. He, like I, was in the process of receiving follow-up CT scans at that time. I believe that he also had reached remission.

I was doing very well at that time, and I assumed that Jim was, as well. But about a year later, I became aware that Jim had suffered some health problems that he had asked his oncologist about more than once; his doctor assured him that he was fine.

Then Jim and Melanie missed a couple of group meetings, and our leader shared some information about Jim with the others of us.

Apparently, the CT scan that he received earlier that week revealed that malignant cells had been detected in his pancreas. Looking at the scan results on his computer, Jim’s oncologist was as puzzled as Jim and Mel were distressed. The radiological tech had made a mistake. Often a childhood cancer, adult sarcomas most commonly metastasized to the lungs, and unlike Jim’s earlier CTs, this one was directed partially toward his abdomen, rather than strictly at his upper body. Before Jim’s new treatment plan could be developed, it would have to be determined whether the cancer in his pancreas was, in fact, pancreatic cancer or was sarcoma that had metastasized to his pancreas.

Jim shared this sudden turn of events with us at our group, periodically with tears in his eyes, at what I believe was his last St. Peregrine’s meeting. After that, Melanie continued to attend our group and keep us posted on Jim’s condition. And Mel, in her new role, became a special member, as over time, we followed not only Jim’s metastatic cancer journey but also Melanie, in her role as his full-time caretaker.

Always a tall, thin man, Jim had gained a lot of weight in his final year on Earth. I continued to see Jim at church for the next few months. Feeling privileged to be in the right place at the right time, I was able to give him a quick hug in the spring of 2023 as I left Mass early to pass out flyers for the Lung Force Walk. The LFW is one of the fundraising activities I’ve been involved in as a lung cancer survivor. Jim was in and out of the hospital as he struggled with the harsh chemotherapy prescribed for him.

Jim’s highest priority as his life waned was to die at home, and Meli made sure that happened. Jim passed away in late January 2024, just a year ago, and at Mass last evening, Jim’s name was read in honor of his memory. My husband and I were, by chance, sitting adjacent to Melanie and her family gathered to attend Meli’s church and then spend the evening with her.

I had become much closer to Melanie in the 2024 calendar year. She impressed me with the loving, faithful care she had provided for Jim in his final days and months. Jim lived one and a half years after his cancer metastasized, and this world lost an all-around, good man. Both he and Mel brought so much to St. Peregrine’s Group.

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