A Wine Whine

Instead of dreaming about alligators, I'm dreaming about wine. I have cut back on my consumption of alcohol because of all the recent studies that underscore the connection between cancer (particularly of the breast and the colon)and alcohol consumption, and I miss it. I miss preparing supper with a glass of wine on the counter for intermittent sips as I chop or stir or mince or saute; I miss the way the taste signals the end of the "working" day (even if I have laundry yet to fold); I even miss the way the wine glass feels in my hand.

Last night I had a fairly vivid dream featuring a splendid bottle of wine which I was thoroughly enjoying, until I woke up. There was not much to the dream except for my delight in the sipping and savoring of the wine. The wine felt unusually viscous and velvety in my mouth...somehow thicker than wine should be, but pleasurable in every way. What does this dream mean? I haven't a clue. All I know is that I don't particularly miss my breasts, but I do MISS MY WINE.

Into the Frying Pan

One of the best things about this radiation regimen is that I signed up for an early morning appointment - 8:15 - so I am forced to get up, get dressed, and get out the door earlier than has been my habit since my younger child got out of high school. Yes. I had become quite the slouch, hanging around in my pyjamas until 9 AM on many days. So, these days I am turning over a new leaf, and getting radiated, to boot.

So far, everything is smooth as glass. The Cancer Center continues to get high marks for efficiency, pleasant surroundings, and gracious staff. And more warm blankets too! I have a nifty little barcoded card that I swipe upon entry to the waiting room. My name pops up on a screen, I head for the dressing room, grab a gown, strip, put my stuff in a locker - and before I can settle in with a good magazine, one of the technicians comes to get me for my 15 minutes "in the beam."

Before starting treatments I went in for some preliminary visits which included the "tattooing visit" and the "making an upper body cast visit." The body cast forces me to lie in exactly the same position each visit. The tattoos, of course, show the technicians how to line up the machine to zap the right places. So, when I reach the treatment room, I lie on a table with my body settled into the preformed cast. The various techs shift me this way and that, pulling my hips an inch left or right, my upper body another touch to the side. All the while they are calling out numbers like 94 point 3, 97 point 1. Who knows what it all means. I trust that they know what they are doing. Before long they say they are ready, and with no other preamble, the nuking begins. There is nothing to feel, not much to see other than a sign that shines, saying "Beam On," and before I can get really comfy, the whole shebang is over.

Today is Day 5 out of 33 treatments. So far there have been no discernible side effects. I expect that it will take another week or two before I see the burning or feel the fatigue.

Too Busy to Write About Having Cancer

I feel the pull of fall activities, much like the pull of the bathtub drain...a vortex which is sucking me into a swirl of busy-ness, away from the relative peace of the summer. Admittedly, much of this activity has been fun: a wonderful boat trip on the St. Lawrence River and exploration of the Thousand Islands region of Ontario and New York; a trip to the DC area for a wedding and a delightful visit with friends; a short but sweet visit with daughter Sarah, who was in the wedding; and a quick lunch with son Gordon in Lexington, Va. where he is attending law school. Nonetheless, the inbox is filling up with reminders of places I need to be, articles I need to read, meetings I need to attend, etc; and I am finding less and less time to write this blog and less and less time to pay attention to living with cancer....how to eat, think, relax, supplement, medicate.

Today I was ENCOURAGED, even compelled, to write because I pledged that I would blog today for The Army of Women, which I wrote about in a previous post. I am struck by what a powerful vehicle the Internet is for sharing important information quickly and efficiently. What a boon for organizations such as this Army, which needs to recruit nationwide, one million women of all ages, ethnicities, health stages, and locales, to help in the research to find the causes of breast cancer.

So...please consider joining this effort. If you do, you will hear about research projects which you might be eligible to participate in. However, signing up for the Army does NOT obligate you in any way. There is no cost to join, and they are not asking for donations. They just want women to sign up to hear about the studies and possibly decide to participate in one or more. A study might involve nothing more than filling out a questionnaire, or it might involve giving a blood sample. In any event, YOU decide whether to participate.

Now, about using the internet - if you sign up, please tell others. If you are on Facebook, update your status by writing: "I signed up to STOP breast cancer before it STARTS. Have you? Join today at www.armyofwomen.org , then copy and paste this status update as your own." Because I am such a neophyte blogger and computer-use-challenged, I cannot seem to insert the PSA video which I want to share. If you are interested, go to www.youtube.com and search for Army of Women. There is a great video with Susan Sarandon narrating which I would like everyone to see.

A final note: I have finished chemo, and my hair is growing back - all gray so far - but my eyebrows and eyelashes have disappeared here at the very last minute. I start radiation on October 11. This will last for six weeks and involve going to the Cancer Center for a brief "zap" every week day. I feel just fine, and I am interested in this next phase of treatment. I gather that I may have a bit of a tough time with burning, since I had a mastectomy rather than lumpectomy, and there is less tissue to absorb the radiation. Most folks with lumpectomies do not have as much burning. I guess I can stand a couple of weeks of burning and itching. I was signing a release form concerning the radiation on Monday, and I noted that the reason for radiation, stated in the form, was "to prevent recurrence of breast cancer." I jokingly said I would sign to have the treatment, if the doctor would sign to guarantee that outcome. The nurse/technician did not think that was funny...or else she just was not accustomed to people making jokes about cancer and death rays. And on that note, I end this epistle.

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Weirdly, I think I am going to miss my chemotherapy treatments. I had my last one today, and it was so pleasant that I had a hard time excavating myself from the comfortable chair with the warm blankets and soft pillows. The snack service beats what I get at home, that's for sure. And the uninterrupted 2 1/2 hours of reading, sleeping, cross-wording, and thinking are not to be sneezed at. Today I actually did take a nap, probably due to the fact that I was up very late last night because of the steroids I am taking. Anyway, I dozed off about midway through my treatment, only to wake myself by my own snoring. VERY SMOOTH.

I did get to spend some time today quizzing my oncologist. Before today, because I have sailed through this process so easily, I have seen very little of him. I warned him last month that I had numerous questions, so he allotted plenty of time for me today. I am interested, of course, in what kind of changes in diet and behavior I should make, and when these will be compatible with the medical protocols. With chemo behind me, I can begin the shift from an animal protein based diet toward one more vegetable based. Everything I have read indicates that this is the kind of diet that one should adopt as a cancer preventative. Additionally, I am "hot" to boost my antioxidant intake, but I cannot start that until after radiation, because the jury is still out on whether antioxidants might interfere with the efficacy of radiation. I told the good doctor about papaya leaf tea, which had been suggested to me by my friend Jane Dodds, and which has excellent data supporting its role in eating away the fibrin on cancer cells to make them more vulnerable to death (insert mental image of tiny but powerful papaya leaf conking big ugly cancer cell on the head) and at first he rolled his eyes; but then I told him that there was a supporting article about this enzyme therapy published in one of the "sanctioned" medical magazines in his own office waiting room. So, that one is good to go. That's just a smattering of what we covered, but you get the gist. I want to take back some control.

So, I will miss the old place. But I am told that there are other fine experiences waiting for me in the holding room for radiation treatment. I have heard about the bonding that occurs with the group that gathers EVERY DAY FOR 6 WEEKS, sitting together waiting to be zapped/nuked/burned/crisped. Adversity builds character and community; I can use the character-building and I expect to enjoy the new community.

Army of Women

For months I have been pondering the question of what caused my breast cancer. I do not fit the published profile; I am not overweight, not a heavy drinker, have never been a smoker, and there is no breast cancer in my immediate family. My routine mammograms were just that....routine. There was never even a blip of anything suspicious. I breast-fed both of my children (supposedly a breast cancer preventative). In short, I have been a naturally healthy person, but also a conscientiously healthy person, my whole life.

I like to make sense of situations. I even like to diagram sentences. Finding a pattern in a problem opens the door to a solution. So, I naturally started looking for a discernible pattern in breast cancer experiences among women. I found that the experiences are spread all over the map. Some women have a family history (actually a very tiny percentage of breast cancers are genetic), but most women have no real idea where their malignancy came from. They might postulate that it was hormone replacement therapy or exposure to pesticides (my friends and I have laughed about riding our bikes behind the DDT fogger in the summer evenings of our childhood) or too much red meat, or something in the water in their hometowns, or their deodorant. What activity or exposure flips the switch on those gremlins hiding in ones body?

Also, breast cancer treatment offers questionable outcomes. All of the therapies are toxic or destructive and potentially harmful themselves. The treatment choices are pretty limited, and can have awful side effects. However, most people are more afraid of the proliferation of the cancer in the present moment, than they are of the potential problems resulting from the "cure" somewhere down the road. I get that. What I don't get is why there has not been more time spent finding the cause of cancer, in order to "head it off at the pass." When the "cure" is often worse than the disease, why has there not been more effort expended looking at prevention rather than in developing toxic treatments which often cause cancers themselves.

Finally, someone is doing just that. I recently got some information from a friend ( another woman who was "blindsided" by a breast cancer diagnosis several years ago) about a great organization called Army of Women which is the brainchild of Dr. Susan Love, who has been the guru of breast cancer information for many years. She wrote one of the definitive guides to breast cancer, Dr. Susan Love's Breast Book. She has now teamed up with the Avon Foundation to enlist a million women to participate in studies to find the CAUSE or CAUSES of breast cancer. This is what I had been wishing for, long before I myself was diagnosed. Every time I would hear about another friend getting breast cancer, I would say "I wonder what is causing all of this cancer!" Finally, someone is doing something to find answers.

I plan to send an email to all the women on my email list about this effort to enlist a million women....both those with breast cancer and those without....to urge them to participate in this effort. Observing the remarkable success of the Susan Komen Races and the money that has been raised for education and research for a cure, I have great hope that this Army of Women idea can accomplish the goal of discovering the underlying causes of this scourge. Please take a look at http://www.armyofwomen.org/ and join the fight to prevent breast cancer by discovering the causes.

Tshirts

A lot of non-cancer happenings have kept me busy for a couple of weeks, and that is a good thing. I am continuing to feel healthy, energetic, and positive. Most days I completely forget that I have cancer (or, as Gordon keeps reminding me, that "I have had cancer), and I also forget that I am bald....which leads to my getting lots more vitamin D because I go out in the NC August sun with no head covering. So far, no sunburn on the tender skin, and the Vitamin D I absorb is a really good thing as a cancer preventative. No, I am not "shutting the barn door after the horse is lost;" I am gearing up to keep cancer from recurring after all these treatments are behind me.

Now about the Tshirt heading of this entry: getting there is a bit convoluted, so bear with me.

First of all, when tshirts began to be popular casual wear...maybe in the late 60's and early 70's, I had a particular bias against wearing ones which sported logos or brand names. I didn't like advertising for a company, and I particularly did not like the "in crowd" thing of wearing certain popular brands, which printed their names on the shirts. (Even before tshirts were the "thing," there was a fad among teenagers of letting the interior label of a shirt stick up at the neck so it could be seen. Ugh! Hated it.) Anyway, I liked my tshirts plain in those days - so much so that my sister-in-law Lynda had a tshirt printed up as a gag for my birthday which read "Printed Tshirts Make Me Put Out." Of course, I never could wear this comfortably in public....because I didn't wear printed tshirts and because the double entendre of the slogan took some explaining to my children (young at the time) and to others.

These days, I feel somewhat different about printed tshirts. I have numerous tshirts, from Salem College, from the Susan Komen Race for the Cure, from Fiddler's Grove Ole Time Fiddler's Festival, from the Great American Brass Band Festival, and so on. Rather than advertise for name brand clothing, which I still dislike, I find I enjoy sharing my passions through my tshirts. Sometimes I get a thumbs-up for whatever particular enterprise I am sporting on my back. It can be a great conversation starter.

Here's the deal: I have a terrific, new tshirt, given me by Julie Searcy who works in my husband Gordon's office. Julie has been touched by breast cancer through her mother's experience with a very aggressive form of the disease. Her mother is a survivor, and she and Julie have involved themselves in many efforts to raise awareness and money for the community. Now I want to share this shirt with you. Not only does the shirt fit me really nicely...not too big, not too small...but the colors are attractive and the printed words are funny, heartfelt, sassy, serious, and powerful. When I wear it, I get lots of positive comments, both on its attractiveness and on its message.....a good combination.

One more thing. My daughter Sarah, who lives in NY, has a friend, Valerie, who writes a very creative, interesting blog, http://theteeshirtproject.blogspot.com/. I am going to submit a picture of my tshirt to her in a day or two, and I hope she will use it. The premise of her blog is this: she spots people in tshirts, asks permission to photograph the shirt, then posts the photo along with info about the "history" of the shirt, why the owner likes it, where it was purchased/acquired, etc. I find the stories fun and informative...a little bit of contemporary culture. I hope you will take a look. And one more thing.....I would love to hear from you if you know some other good names for those two protuberances which are both a blessing and a curse.

Milk of Magnesia and Lemon Juice

If the eyes are the window of the soul, then the tongue must be called the mirror of the digestive tract. (Gross-out alert! I may be going some places that certain people will find ....at the least, unappealing, and....at the most, downright disgusting. You have been warned.) Right now my tongue is white, my breath is noxious, and my digestive system is sluggish. This has been the pattern following chemotherapy treatments since the beginning, but I am very conscious of the experience this time around. All of this focus on digestion makes me think of my mother's frequent requirement during my childhood that I "stick out my tongue." Clearly, she could look at me and know that all was NOT running smoothly. One look at my tongue would tell her how serious the problem was and what to do about it. If I was lucky, the solution was merely MIlk of Magnesia. If my tongue was really coated, then out came the dreaded bag which hung on the back of the bathroom door. I will say no more.

It interests me, however, that the motherly directive "stick out your tongue" seems to have disappeared. And I am not suggesting that an obsession with our bowels needs to make a comeback (Have you seen "The Road to Wellville?" Yikes!), but I do think that a closer connection with our bodies and how they work is not a bad thing. I also wonder how my mother learned about the connection between the white tongue and the condition of my interior.

I have also thought a lot lately about other "folk traditions" in healthy living which I experienced growing up, and which I now know to be solidly based in good science. The best example has to do with drinking lemon juice. When I was growing up, we lived with my Grandmother Davis, who was born in 1874, so she really came from a radically different world than the one I lived in. She died when I was 10. Each morning she would have a cup of hot water with fresh lemon juice before having her breakfast or her morning cup of tea. I know from talking with my mother that my Great Aunt Mamie (my grandmother's sister) followed this ritual also. In talking with my husband Gordon, I have learned that his grandmother (born, I believe, in the 1880's) did the same thing. - Now, here is the part I find most interesting:

While looking into ways to help my body during and after cancer treatment, I found that it is advisable to increase the alkalinity of ones body, because cancer cells thrive in an acidic environment. This is hard to accomplish, but can be done. Even though lemons are acid, their reaction in the body is to cause increased alkalinity. On top of this is the fact that the ingestion of lemon juice increases the production of bile in the liver, which allows the liver to work more efficiently in getting rid of toxins. Right now chemotherapy is overloading my body with toxins, so anything I can do to energize my liver is a good thing. And just for good measure, lemon juice aids digestion, acts as a mild diuretic, and hastens wound healing. Needless to say, I am drinking my lemon juice.

So, what I want to know is, how did my grandmother and her generation come to understand the advantages of drinking lemon juice? Was this habit born out of observation of the effects? Did they really know what they were doing, or was it something that they picked up from their mothers, who got it from their mothers? And the final question is, why did we stop doing it? Was it just too simple? Would we rather take a pill or potion whose ingredients we cannot pronounce, just because they have been developed by a drug company? Sometimes our easiest and best answer is......right on the tip of our tongue or right in our own grocery aisle.

One final note: I found out where the mystery book came from - Gordon's first cousin Ann Womble Strader sent it, thinking there was a card enclosed. I am glad to have the mystery solved. I have now read another book by Barbara Brown Taylor, Leaving Church, which I loved also. Now I need to buy a copy, because it will need some underlining as well.