Nothing like a little positive reinforcement to make you "get back in the saddle." I admit it. I have been avoiding this blog, mainly because I have been down in the dumps and didn't want to inflict my mindset on anyone else. Then I got an upper respiratory crud with fever which is going around, and that legitimately curtailed my activities. I actually stayed in bed for 5 days, which is some kind of record for my adulthood.
But, about that positive reinforcement.....this morning I idly checked my last blog entry. Who knows why? And there were two comments, from Michelle and Debbie, which kicked my rear end (in a good way) and made me want to get back to this blog. I know that people read this thing, but getting a written response is like putting fertilizer on a garden.
A quick update on my ideas about reconstructive surgery: I don't have any. What I mean is that I have not found any enthusiasm for researching the options, etc. Thinking about doing all the surgery and recovery makes me tired. Plus, I have concluded that I just don't care that much about having "real" breasts. First of all, they wouldn't be real....not really real. So what's the point? Going flatchested when I exercise works just fine for me, and in fact is pretty darned comfortable. So, there will be no surgical procedure for this post-mastectomy body.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with a local Naturopathic physician to talk about my general health, but specifically to discuss ways to enhance my health, vis-a-vis cancer recurrence. I expect to hear about dietary choices and supplements, along with suggestions for lifestyle changes. I have heard this doctor speak on several occasions, and I have been impressed with how she approaches healthcare holistically, looking at the body as a single unit, rather than as various parts that get treated piecemeal. I do not intend to drop my traditional practitioners, but I am hoping to achieve a productive synergy by looping in some less traditional methods of treatment.
I want to thank Debbie and Michelle again for having given me THEIR thoughts about MY thoughts. I found their words to be encouraging and hopeful. In fact, I believe I could feel a change in my psyche when I read them, as if endorphins had been released in my system. Words are powerful, dynamic, and can be restorative, as they were in this case.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Thursday, December 16, 2010
A Tough Few Weeks
I've got to tell you, the past few weeks have brought some tough moments. First, Elizabeth Edwards died. Her breast cancer was a stage 3 when it was discovered, as was mine. This week I learned that a friend's breast cancer, also diagnosed at stage 3, has metastasized to her bones and her liver. I am sad and mad. Sad, of course, at the harsh realities of illness and death. And mad that although we live in a sophisticated nation, we seem unable to get a handle on how to stem the tide of this disease.
On Tuesday, I was listening to Fresh Air with Terri Gross on the local public radio station, and she was interviewing an oncologist, Dr. Marisa Weiss, about her own breast cancer. Dr. Weiss is responsible for the development of the website http://www.breastcancer.org/, which is a terrific source of straight facts and discussions about breast cancer. Dr. Weiss's cancer was just diagnosed last spring, long after the founding of the website. It was satisfying, although not consoling, to hear her express her professional assessment of what is causing breast cancer, because her thoughts line up with the conclusions I have reached. To hear her interview, please go to http://www.npr.org/ and follow the links to Fresh Air and the program aired on Tuesday, December 14, 2010.
I am most interested in what Dr. Weiss says she is doing to protect herself from recurrence: eating organic fruits and vegetables, avoiding meats with hormones, clearing her home of all cleaning products made with chemicals which the body can "receive" as estrogen, avoiding stress, cutting back on alcohol(3-4 drinks per week), ramping up her exercise regimen, losing weight and maintaining it, and getting adequate sleep to give her body a chance to repair itself. She acknowledges that this change in lifestyle requires commitment. What I think is distressing is that this lifestyle is so unusual. Based on what I have read and heard, everyone should be trying to live this way.
Since completing my chemo and radiation treatments, I have felt uneasy, like I am dangling by a thin thread above a deep chasm. This is due, I am sure, to the fact that I am not DOING anything to chase the cancer away; I am just sitting and waiting. I guess the challenge for me is to take up the chase by consciously undertaking a real lifestyle change, as Dr. Weiss has done.
On Tuesday, I was listening to Fresh Air with Terri Gross on the local public radio station, and she was interviewing an oncologist, Dr. Marisa Weiss, about her own breast cancer. Dr. Weiss is responsible for the development of the website http://www.breastcancer.org/, which is a terrific source of straight facts and discussions about breast cancer. Dr. Weiss's cancer was just diagnosed last spring, long after the founding of the website. It was satisfying, although not consoling, to hear her express her professional assessment of what is causing breast cancer, because her thoughts line up with the conclusions I have reached. To hear her interview, please go to http://www.npr.org/ and follow the links to Fresh Air and the program aired on Tuesday, December 14, 2010.
I am most interested in what Dr. Weiss says she is doing to protect herself from recurrence: eating organic fruits and vegetables, avoiding meats with hormones, clearing her home of all cleaning products made with chemicals which the body can "receive" as estrogen, avoiding stress, cutting back on alcohol(3-4 drinks per week), ramping up her exercise regimen, losing weight and maintaining it, and getting adequate sleep to give her body a chance to repair itself. She acknowledges that this change in lifestyle requires commitment. What I think is distressing is that this lifestyle is so unusual. Based on what I have read and heard, everyone should be trying to live this way.
Since completing my chemo and radiation treatments, I have felt uneasy, like I am dangling by a thin thread above a deep chasm. This is due, I am sure, to the fact that I am not DOING anything to chase the cancer away; I am just sitting and waiting. I guess the challenge for me is to take up the chase by consciously undertaking a real lifestyle change, as Dr. Weiss has done.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
A "B" or not a "B'" - That Is the Question
Breast reconstruction surgery. Am I going to do this or not? I understand that if I am going to have this surgery, I need to decide ASAP, since the tissue on the radiated side tends to become less and less flexible as time passes, making the "plumping out" of the tissue more difficult.
The plus side of having reconstruction would be that I would no longer need to wear a bra, if I didn't want to. The newbies would be firm as a foam pillow, with NO NIPPLES to show through shirts, unless I choose to have those babies reconstructed also, not just tattooed on. Also, the sweaty season of NC summer would be much more bearable, since the silicon inserts are hot, hot, hot.
The downside for me would be two-fold: first the surgery, which is no small undertaking, involving moving tissue from my latissimus muscles under the skin around to my front; and second, the after effect, which is loss of upper body strength. I have little enough upper body strength now; I hate to think how weak I could become. Also, although I am not afraid of surgery, I recognize that complications DO occur, so elective surgery needs thorough study.
For the past couple of weeks I have experimented with going to my exercise class with no prosthesis under the tshirt. For all the world, I look like I did at age ten, except for the gray hair and glasses; and I've got to say, I don't mind the look and I LOVE the way it feels. It seemed a little weird at first, going out in public with no bosom....fake or otherwise... but I have grown accustomed to the freedom from straps and elastic. I just wish I could go bare under all my clothes as easily as I can under a tshirt.
I have had conversations with women who have had reconstruction, but none of them were in the same situation as I am, with limited options in the type of procedure available. Most of them were able to have the surgery done at the same time as their mastectomies, and that alone would make a huge difference for me. One of my breast cancer friends has suggested that I do some investigation via a website, http://www.breastcancer.org/, where I will be able to find discussion groups centered on my specific questions and situation. I think that will be my next step.
The plus side of having reconstruction would be that I would no longer need to wear a bra, if I didn't want to. The newbies would be firm as a foam pillow, with NO NIPPLES to show through shirts, unless I choose to have those babies reconstructed also, not just tattooed on. Also, the sweaty season of NC summer would be much more bearable, since the silicon inserts are hot, hot, hot.
The downside for me would be two-fold: first the surgery, which is no small undertaking, involving moving tissue from my latissimus muscles under the skin around to my front; and second, the after effect, which is loss of upper body strength. I have little enough upper body strength now; I hate to think how weak I could become. Also, although I am not afraid of surgery, I recognize that complications DO occur, so elective surgery needs thorough study.
For the past couple of weeks I have experimented with going to my exercise class with no prosthesis under the tshirt. For all the world, I look like I did at age ten, except for the gray hair and glasses; and I've got to say, I don't mind the look and I LOVE the way it feels. It seemed a little weird at first, going out in public with no bosom....fake or otherwise... but I have grown accustomed to the freedom from straps and elastic. I just wish I could go bare under all my clothes as easily as I can under a tshirt.
I have had conversations with women who have had reconstruction, but none of them were in the same situation as I am, with limited options in the type of procedure available. Most of them were able to have the surgery done at the same time as their mastectomies, and that alone would make a huge difference for me. One of my breast cancer friends has suggested that I do some investigation via a website, http://www.breastcancer.org/, where I will be able to find discussion groups centered on my specific questions and situation. I think that will be my next step.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Finished and Done
For a number of years I have noted the increasing use of the word "done" to mean "finished" - as in, "I am done with this project." To my ears this construction sounds foreign....or, pardon me....Yankee. In my house, we would say that a baking potato was "done" when the interior was fully cooked; but if I were digging potatoes and completed the task, then I was "finished." I fear I am losing this linguistic battle (along with the one concerning the proper use of "lay" and "lie") but, regarding my cancer treatment, I think I can employ both "finished" and "done" in a proper form to describe my experience.
On Wednesday, November 24, 2010, I finished all of my medical treatment for breast cancer. In addition to 6 weeks of chemotherapy, I received 33 doses of radiation, including the final 5 which were aimed directly at the scar. Of course, I am happy to have this treatment behind me, but I cannot complain about the experience since it did not greatly interfere with normal life.
I also would say that I am done - as in "completely cooked." If you could see the skin on my chest and back, you would understand this terminology. Although I have not suffered much pain, I do resemble the proverbial boiled lobster. In addition, I cannot be exposed to any more radiation - EVER - in this region of my body, so I am as fully cooked as I can be.
So now I just have to wait and watch. This stance will be harder for me than facing chemotherapy and radiation, but I have no choice.
On Wednesday, November 24, 2010, I finished all of my medical treatment for breast cancer. In addition to 6 weeks of chemotherapy, I received 33 doses of radiation, including the final 5 which were aimed directly at the scar. Of course, I am happy to have this treatment behind me, but I cannot complain about the experience since it did not greatly interfere with normal life.
I also would say that I am done - as in "completely cooked." If you could see the skin on my chest and back, you would understand this terminology. Although I have not suffered much pain, I do resemble the proverbial boiled lobster. In addition, I cannot be exposed to any more radiation - EVER - in this region of my body, so I am as fully cooked as I can be.
So now I just have to wait and watch. This stance will be harder for me than facing chemotherapy and radiation, but I have no choice.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Coming Down the Stretch
The end is in sight. Not the end of me, praise God, but the end of my treatments. I have 9 more radiation sessions, and the last 5 of them will be aimed at the scar on my chest because that is the region most likely to experience a cancer recurrence. Who knows why that is?
As I have mentioned before, radiation has been a "no problem" experience. Even the burning and itching part has not really made much of a dent in my normal activities. I have been careful to keep the burned area "lotioned up" with Udder Cream, and cortisone cream has handled the itch just fine.
As you can see from the photos, my hair is returning. Everyone wants to know if it is curly, since I did have curly hair prior to this experience, and I have been told that often the texture and curliness factor change after chemotherapy. So far, I can't tell much difference. The texture seems the same, and it is growing at a distinct angle; but it's not long enough to curl yet, so the jury is still out on that question. Interestingly, the layout of gray and dark seems exactly as it was before the hair came out. When Gord shaved me down to the nubbins back in June, I was very conscious of a dark, leopard-like spot in the middle of my graying pate. Now that the hair is returning, I can see the same dark spot in the middle of the gray on the top of my head.
Since colder weather is upon us, I am happy to have a bit more cover on my head. Going without hair has given me a greater understanding of husband Gordon's love of caps. Being follically challenged, he seldom leaves the house without one, and now I get it. It's amazing how chilly you can get, even bundled up below the chin, if your head is exposed.
As I have mentioned before, radiation has been a "no problem" experience. Even the burning and itching part has not really made much of a dent in my normal activities. I have been careful to keep the burned area "lotioned up" with Udder Cream, and cortisone cream has handled the itch just fine.
As you can see from the photos, my hair is returning. Everyone wants to know if it is curly, since I did have curly hair prior to this experience, and I have been told that often the texture and curliness factor change after chemotherapy. So far, I can't tell much difference. The texture seems the same, and it is growing at a distinct angle; but it's not long enough to curl yet, so the jury is still out on that question. Interestingly, the layout of gray and dark seems exactly as it was before the hair came out. When Gord shaved me down to the nubbins back in June, I was very conscious of a dark, leopard-like spot in the middle of my graying pate. Now that the hair is returning, I can see the same dark spot in the middle of the gray on the top of my head.
Since colder weather is upon us, I am happy to have a bit more cover on my head. Going without hair has given me a greater understanding of husband Gordon's love of caps. Being follically challenged, he seldom leaves the house without one, and now I get it. It's amazing how chilly you can get, even bundled up below the chin, if your head is exposed.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Not Everyone Grew Up at My House
It is embarrassing to admit, but I was a young adult before I fully understood that my point of view was not a fairly universal view. Obviously, I accepted that people might differ on political issues or social issues or even on what to have for dinner, but there were certain perspectives that just seemed obvious "givens" to me. Then I took the Myers/Briggs personality assessment, and my eyes were opened somewhat. Today, I had another experience with my perspective not being the only one.
This morning's radiation session was a few minutes delayed, so I had some time to chat with the other "ladies in waiting." One nice older woman from N. Wilkesboro (a Granny Clampitt type) and I were waiting and had been chatting, when another woman I had seen on occasion came in. This woman seemed nervous as a cat, even though I knew this was about her second week of treatments. I had taken note of her on her first day, because she seemed somewhat "undone" - had failed to check in properly, didn't want to undress as she was directed, couldn't seem to get the lock to work on the clothes locker, etc. Anyway, this morning her eyes kept darting this way and that, and she latched onto our conversation about chemo, asking numerous shaky questions about side effects, etc. Everything seemed to make her more and more uneasy.
This unhappy lady was called for her radiation session, leaving me with Granny Clampitt, who filled me in on what this nervous woman had told her yesterday: that she might just quit her treatment...that she was so frightened by it. This attitude I find simply amazing and incomprehensible. How could a few minutes in a radiation lab be more frightening than letting cancer have its way with your body? And radiation is just NOT scary, although the technicians tell me that some people feel claustrophobic lying under the machine. That seems strange to me, since the apparatus merely hangs over ones body; you are not enclosed in it.
This experience reminds me of a story about a woman from my hometown who knew she had something wrong in her breast. The description of her overt symptoms are too graphic and unpleasant for me to write here, but the bottom line is that she knew she had cancer, but did not go to the doctor for months and months, and by then the cancer was too advanced to do anything about it. I believe that she was just so afraid of having the cancer confirmed by a physician, that she preferred to pretend it didn't exist. Again, astounding!
Even if Granny Clampitt grew up in N. Wilkesboro, NC and I grew up in Winnsboro, SC, we seem to have "grown up in the same house," because she and I agreed that we feel lucky to be able to come to treatment every morning at a good hospital, with knowledgeable doctors and caring personnel who want to help us get well.
This morning's radiation session was a few minutes delayed, so I had some time to chat with the other "ladies in waiting." One nice older woman from N. Wilkesboro (a Granny Clampitt type) and I were waiting and had been chatting, when another woman I had seen on occasion came in. This woman seemed nervous as a cat, even though I knew this was about her second week of treatments. I had taken note of her on her first day, because she seemed somewhat "undone" - had failed to check in properly, didn't want to undress as she was directed, couldn't seem to get the lock to work on the clothes locker, etc. Anyway, this morning her eyes kept darting this way and that, and she latched onto our conversation about chemo, asking numerous shaky questions about side effects, etc. Everything seemed to make her more and more uneasy.
This unhappy lady was called for her radiation session, leaving me with Granny Clampitt, who filled me in on what this nervous woman had told her yesterday: that she might just quit her treatment...that she was so frightened by it. This attitude I find simply amazing and incomprehensible. How could a few minutes in a radiation lab be more frightening than letting cancer have its way with your body? And radiation is just NOT scary, although the technicians tell me that some people feel claustrophobic lying under the machine. That seems strange to me, since the apparatus merely hangs over ones body; you are not enclosed in it.
This experience reminds me of a story about a woman from my hometown who knew she had something wrong in her breast. The description of her overt symptoms are too graphic and unpleasant for me to write here, but the bottom line is that she knew she had cancer, but did not go to the doctor for months and months, and by then the cancer was too advanced to do anything about it. I believe that she was just so afraid of having the cancer confirmed by a physician, that she preferred to pretend it didn't exist. Again, astounding!
Even if Granny Clampitt grew up in N. Wilkesboro, NC and I grew up in Winnsboro, SC, we seem to have "grown up in the same house," because she and I agreed that we feel lucky to be able to come to treatment every morning at a good hospital, with knowledgeable doctors and caring personnel who want to help us get well.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Radiation or Sleep Deprivation?
This afternoon I felt a desperate need for a nap, so....I took one. It was raining like crazy outside, so the ambiance was perfect. The thing is, I cannot decide whether this "nap need" was related to the radiation treatments, or if it was merely the result of sleep deprivation. Last night a wild storm flew through Winston-Salem, and since we have one of those weather alert radios which comes on and squawks if there is severe weather coming, I was awakened numerous times during the night. Also, I did attend an exercise class today following my treatment, so I could be a bit more tired than usual anyway. I will be curious to see how I feel tomorrow afternoon, and if the "rack monster" will call my name.
I am beginning to see a bit of change in the condition of my skin where the radiation is focusing; there is some redness and a slight itch, which I am expecting to get worse. I have armed myself with Cortisone cream, Udder Balm, and benadryl. I think it is pretty funny that the skin cream recommended by the doctor is Udder Balm. What could be better for my particular situation?!
Yesterday was my day to have an appoinment with my radiation oncologist. She and I meet every week, and I love it that she has specific topics she covers at each meeting. Usually I think of radiologists as doctors who do not care for much patient contact - who are more focused on the technology than on the individual being treated. However, Dr. Evans is exceedingly personable and spends quite a bit of time answering my questions and trying to find out what I want to know. Yesterday we talked about exercise as a way to prevent recurrence. Apparently, 30-40 minutes of exercise at least 4 times per week greatly enhances ones odds of surviving this cancer. The research does not clarify exactly why this works, although I think she said that they believe that exercise activates/envigorates the "killer" T-cells. Whatever the reason, you can bet that I am putting my nose to this grindstone for all I am worth.
I really like Dr. Evans because she seems to embrace the world of integrative medicine. We have talked about vitamins and other supplements, and she spoke of what she does in her own daily regimen. And we have discussed dietary "no no's" like concentrated soy products. Interestingly, she has spotted in my nature that need to have some control or be taking steps toward a goal, because she mentioned something that had occurred to me during the past week: that I might feel a bit of a let-down after my treatments are complete, because then all I can do is "wait and see." Because I know this about myself, I am glad she is giving me some concrete things to do: exercise; take appropriate supplements; and avoid or reduce intake of certain foods, such as concentrated soy, alcoholic beverages, etc.
All in all, I am still feeling well and happy. Crazy, huh? I examine this perverse nature of mine, and find it puzzling. This "project" of having cancer is somehow envigorating to me. Plus, it seems to offer a great excuse for an afternoon nap.
I am beginning to see a bit of change in the condition of my skin where the radiation is focusing; there is some redness and a slight itch, which I am expecting to get worse. I have armed myself with Cortisone cream, Udder Balm, and benadryl. I think it is pretty funny that the skin cream recommended by the doctor is Udder Balm. What could be better for my particular situation?!
Yesterday was my day to have an appoinment with my radiation oncologist. She and I meet every week, and I love it that she has specific topics she covers at each meeting. Usually I think of radiologists as doctors who do not care for much patient contact - who are more focused on the technology than on the individual being treated. However, Dr. Evans is exceedingly personable and spends quite a bit of time answering my questions and trying to find out what I want to know. Yesterday we talked about exercise as a way to prevent recurrence. Apparently, 30-40 minutes of exercise at least 4 times per week greatly enhances ones odds of surviving this cancer. The research does not clarify exactly why this works, although I think she said that they believe that exercise activates/envigorates the "killer" T-cells. Whatever the reason, you can bet that I am putting my nose to this grindstone for all I am worth.
I really like Dr. Evans because she seems to embrace the world of integrative medicine. We have talked about vitamins and other supplements, and she spoke of what she does in her own daily regimen. And we have discussed dietary "no no's" like concentrated soy products. Interestingly, she has spotted in my nature that need to have some control or be taking steps toward a goal, because she mentioned something that had occurred to me during the past week: that I might feel a bit of a let-down after my treatments are complete, because then all I can do is "wait and see." Because I know this about myself, I am glad she is giving me some concrete things to do: exercise; take appropriate supplements; and avoid or reduce intake of certain foods, such as concentrated soy, alcoholic beverages, etc.
All in all, I am still feeling well and happy. Crazy, huh? I examine this perverse nature of mine, and find it puzzling. This "project" of having cancer is somehow envigorating to me. Plus, it seems to offer a great excuse for an afternoon nap.
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