Wednesday I had my first date with the plastic surgeon, Dr. Atiyah. Being in his office felt bizarre-- there were pamphlets all over the place for Botox and breast augmentation. Never in a million years would I have imagined myself sitting in the office of a plastic surgeon. But, here I was. Remember- nothing is impossible.
He called me into his office quite quickly, and there Mike and I were met by the surgeon and a female colleague of his. Dr. Atiyah was much younger than I imagined-- but nonetheless, he seemed very professional, knowledgable, and down to earth. I immediately felt comfortable with him. He immediately expressed his shock at my age and my diagnosis of breast cancer. He said the youngest person he has ever seen with the disease was 28. He kept repeating: "You are not supposed to have breast cancer. What a shame." After measuring and weighing me, asking me some general questions about my health, and examing my chest area, he went into some details about the procedure of breast reconstruction and what he thought was best for me.
First of all, he discussed my "good" breast and expressed his concerns with it. He said that because I am so young and therefore not at all fitting of the norm for breast cancer, he believes it would not be unreasonable to remove the second breast as well. This would not only give me peace of mind, but would lessen my chances of a new cancer forming in the right breast. He said that this is something I would need to discuss with my oncologist, but he thinks that it would likely be recommended down the road. Not only would this give me both psychological and health benefits, but it would likely be more favorable aesthetically. He said that with one real and one fake breast, my breasts would no longer be twins, but more like sisters. This is because it is nearly impossible to match a fake breast exactly to a real breast. However, if he were to reconstruct 2 new breasts for me, it would be much easier to make them look identical. The drawback would be that I would never again have natural breasts (there seems to be something consoling about having your own "stuff" on your body).
He then went into the procedure, which turns out to be much more complicated than I suspected. Normally, in order to reconstruct the breast, a surgeon would first consider removing fat/ tissue from the stomach or back and constructing breasts using that tissue. Because I am a thin girl and have virtually no excess fat in either of those locations, the only possible avenue for me is an implant, in my case a silicone implant.
Post-mastectomy, recieving silicone implants becomes much more complicated. This is because the skin where the breast once was is now tightly sewn over, resembling a normal chest wall. Because of this, the skin must be stretched in order to make room for the implant. The first step, then, involves a small incision under the arm, through which something like a bag or an empty implant called a "tissue expander" is placed under the pectoral (chest) muscle. A tube and valve are connected to this implant through which the implant is pumped with a small amount of saline. It is then left for a few weeks while the skin has time to slowly stretch in small amounts. Then, more saline is pumped into the tube. It is again left for a few more weeks for the skin to stretch some more. This is repeated over and over again until the skin is stretched little by little and a desirable breast size is reached. This process can take up to a 3-4 months to complete.
If I were to have the right breast removed, I would obviously first need another mastectomy and would then need to leave time for the incision to heal. Then, the reconstruction would take place. In some places it is possible to have a mastectomy and immediate reconstruction all in one sitting, but the resources for this type of procedure are not availble in the area in which I live.
If I were to leave the right breast in tact, the doctor has informed me that in order to best match the two breasts, he would still need to give me a silicone implant in the right breast as well. This way, the fuller, rounder shape breasts resulting from the silicone in the reconstructed breast would be matched in the natural breast (although the result would still not be as accurate as having both breasts reconstructed).
As for the nipples. The nipples are contructed from tissue and the areola is then tattooed on, resulting in a quite natural looking breast. Before this can be done, 1-2 months of healing is required. The healing process and the nipple construction procedure then adds yet another 2-3 months to the entire ordeal. The result ... anywhere from 5-8 months of off and on procedures, some discomfort from the stretching skin AND 2 lovely breasts :-)
I will likely begin the process of breast reconstruction in the spring/summer, but until then
I am left with yet another important and potentially life-altering decison ... sisters or twins? Now, THIS could be a tough one.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
A bug
When I was first starting chemo, Mike began to develop a cold. Now that I gave you chemo 101, you probably now know that me being around people with colds is an absolute no-no. This became a huge drawback, as most of my weeknights are spent cuddled up with Mike, my best buddy and my rock. This meant that Mike and I had to cut off our visits for a couple of days and, when we did decide to be around one another, we had to wear surgeon's masks around our faces, for fear of me catching his cold.
Last Wednesday, we finally thought he was over the cold and I happily made my way to his house, where I visited for the evening. As it turns out, the cold must have been in hibernation-mode, because the next day he was back to being sick once again. Sure enough, by Thursday evening I was feeling a little bit of a dry, scratchy throat. Oh no! Don't tell me I caught a cold already!!! Just my luck. I tried to pass it off as my imagination, but over the weekend every now and again I would feel that faint scratchiness lingering in the back of my throat.
My imagination began running wild. What will happen if I get a cold? Will I die? Will I become deathly ill? I began looking on the internet and discovered sites that warned of death in chemo patients who catch colds. As soon as Monday arrived, I made my way into the cancer unit at the hospital to tell them what was up.
I met with the nurse and explained that I had a very minor scratch in the back of my throat for the past 4 days, and I feared it may turn into a cold. She informed me that a cold is actually not as life-threatening as the internet portrayed-- it is just harder for me to fight it off with low white blood cell counts. She said it may stay longer and feel worse than normal, and may possibly delay my second treatment until I got better. Nonetheless, she contacted Dr. MacCormick and he directed her to order bloodwork from me (which was scheduled for that day anyway) to test my white blood cell count (these are the cells responsible for immune function and are supposed to be lowest from day 10-14 ... it was now day 11). He told her that if my blood counts were low, he would order me an antibiotic, but if not he would have me just watch it and come in if it got any worse.
I had the bloodwork done and, as it turns out, my bloodcounts were "not particularly low," but low enough that Dr. MacCormick would feel more comfortable if I were on an antibiotic. The antibiotic was ordered and is to be taken for one week.
This is one of the many trials and tribulations one must go through on chemotherapy. However, if you or someone you know is on chemo and you suspect they may have caught a cold, don't panic. The biggest thing you need to worry about is a fever, which is a sure sign of a bad infection. Anything else can be cured with a simple antibiotic or even less!
Last Wednesday, we finally thought he was over the cold and I happily made my way to his house, where I visited for the evening. As it turns out, the cold must have been in hibernation-mode, because the next day he was back to being sick once again. Sure enough, by Thursday evening I was feeling a little bit of a dry, scratchy throat. Oh no! Don't tell me I caught a cold already!!! Just my luck. I tried to pass it off as my imagination, but over the weekend every now and again I would feel that faint scratchiness lingering in the back of my throat.
My imagination began running wild. What will happen if I get a cold? Will I die? Will I become deathly ill? I began looking on the internet and discovered sites that warned of death in chemo patients who catch colds. As soon as Monday arrived, I made my way into the cancer unit at the hospital to tell them what was up.
I met with the nurse and explained that I had a very minor scratch in the back of my throat for the past 4 days, and I feared it may turn into a cold. She informed me that a cold is actually not as life-threatening as the internet portrayed-- it is just harder for me to fight it off with low white blood cell counts. She said it may stay longer and feel worse than normal, and may possibly delay my second treatment until I got better. Nonetheless, she contacted Dr. MacCormick and he directed her to order bloodwork from me (which was scheduled for that day anyway) to test my white blood cell count (these are the cells responsible for immune function and are supposed to be lowest from day 10-14 ... it was now day 11). He told her that if my blood counts were low, he would order me an antibiotic, but if not he would have me just watch it and come in if it got any worse.
I had the bloodwork done and, as it turns out, my bloodcounts were "not particularly low," but low enough that Dr. MacCormick would feel more comfortable if I were on an antibiotic. The antibiotic was ordered and is to be taken for one week.
This is one of the many trials and tribulations one must go through on chemotherapy. However, if you or someone you know is on chemo and you suspect they may have caught a cold, don't panic. The biggest thing you need to worry about is a fever, which is a sure sign of a bad infection. Anything else can be cured with a simple antibiotic or even less!
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Chemotherapy 101
This post is dedicated to educating you about chemotherapy. I know I've been mentioning a lot about some of my own recent experiences with it, but I think I may have failed to inform you fully about the therapy, what it is intended to do, and why it causes the crazy things it does. So, what exactly is chemotherapy anyway?
Chemotherapy is a type of treatment for many types of cancers that is used for a number of reasons:
1) To shrink a large tumor before surgery
2) To shrink tumors as a method of controlling pain
3) To kill cancer cells that are known to have spread or metastesized to other areas of the body
4) As a precaution to kill cancer cells that may have "leaked out" from the initial primary tumor site, thereby preventing a recurrence of the cancer. (**as in my case)
The word 'chemotherapy' actually refers to the use of ANY drug or medication to treat disease. Antibiotics, for example, are types of chemotherapy. It has just become a common way these days to refer to the cell-killing drugs we use to treat cancer.
As you have probably figured out thus far, cancer happens when cells divide uncontrollably. Normal cells in the body grow, divide, and then die in an orderly fashion. But malignant cells continue to grow and divide. They outlive normal cells and continue to produce more and more abnormal cells. This is when tumors form. Normal cells are also confined to one area of the body--the area where they belong (i.e. breast cells stay in the breast, liver cells stay in the liver). But cancer cells have the ability to spread to distant areas of the body through the lymphatic or vascular (blood) systems, and this is when they may become lethal.
The idea of chemotherapy is to kill rapidly dividing cells. Because cancer cells, as mentioned above, are rapidly growing and more aggressive than normal cells, it is hoped that in the process of killing these rapidly dividing cells, the cancer cells will be killed. The biggest problem with chemotherapy is that it does not discriminate between normal, healthy cells and cancer cells. It just simply attacks rapidly dividing cells. Because of this, both cancer cells and normal cells get killed in the process.
The main reason why most side effects are noticed during chemotherapy, is because the normal cells in the body that are in the process of diving are killed. For example, the hair, skin, and nails grow quickly because they are the sites of rapidly dividing cells. When these cells are killed, the hair, skin, and nails are also killed in the process. This is why many people experience hair loss, darkened or dry skin, and brittle, dark nails (in more aggressive chemo treatments some people even lose their nails). Moist membranes (like the mouth and nose) are also the sites of rapidly dividing cells. Again, because these cells are now being damaged, these once moist areas may now become dry. This is why many chemotherapy patients develop dry mouth and mouth sores during chemo treatments.
The most crucial cells that are killed in the process of chemotherapy are the white and red blood cells, which are produced by the bone marrow. These cells are extremely important to our health, so killing them poses a great deal of risks. The white blood cells are part of your immune system, and help to fight infection. When they are killed, you are, therefore, more susceptible to infections and less able to fight them off. After each treatment, the white blood cells are reduced more and more. The 10th day of after each treatment they are thought to be at their lowest, then they gradually begin to rejuvenate around the 14th day.
The red blood cells, or 'haemoglobin,' are responsible for circulating oxygen throughout the body. When the red blood cells are killed, something called "anemeia" can be caused. This causes fatigue and breathlessness and may need to be treated with a blood transfusion.
The final area of the body affected by the killing of dividing cells that I would like to mention is the digestive system. This is another site for rapidly dividing cells, which becomes heavily affected by chemotherapy. When the cells of the digestive system are killed symptoms like nausea, vomiting, acid indigestion, diarrhea, and other such symptoms are caused.
Chemotherapy may be preceded, followed, or accompanied by surgery, radiation, hormonal therapy, gene therapy, and/or bone marrow or blood stem cell transplantation. This all depends on the type and stage of the cancer. There are also various alternative forms of treatment (i.e. diet, exercise, herbal remedies, etc.) and new forms of treatment (i.e. vaccines) on the rise. In my case, I recieved surgery, followed by chemotherapy, which will finally be followed by hormonal therapy.
I hope this helps you to better understand chemotherapy, as I know I have been and will be discussing it heavily in this blog. I know I had no idea about chemotherapy (or cancer for that matter) before I was diagnosed. But, even if you do not have cancer or don't have anyone close to you with cancer, it is likely that someday in the future you or someone you love will be touched by it. I know that doesn't sound the most positive, but we need to face the facts. 1 in 2 people will now be diagnosed with some sort of cancer in their lifetime. That can't be ignored. So why not be informed about it, right?
If you'd like to know more about chemotherapy, you can visit the following sites:
Canadian Cancer Society- Chemotherapy
Cancer Backup- Chemotherapy
Chemotherapy.com
Chemocare.com
Chemotherapy is a type of treatment for many types of cancers that is used for a number of reasons:
1) To shrink a large tumor before surgery
2) To shrink tumors as a method of controlling pain
3) To kill cancer cells that are known to have spread or metastesized to other areas of the body
4) As a precaution to kill cancer cells that may have "leaked out" from the initial primary tumor site, thereby preventing a recurrence of the cancer. (**as in my case)
The word 'chemotherapy' actually refers to the use of ANY drug or medication to treat disease. Antibiotics, for example, are types of chemotherapy. It has just become a common way these days to refer to the cell-killing drugs we use to treat cancer.
As you have probably figured out thus far, cancer happens when cells divide uncontrollably. Normal cells in the body grow, divide, and then die in an orderly fashion. But malignant cells continue to grow and divide. They outlive normal cells and continue to produce more and more abnormal cells. This is when tumors form. Normal cells are also confined to one area of the body--the area where they belong (i.e. breast cells stay in the breast, liver cells stay in the liver). But cancer cells have the ability to spread to distant areas of the body through the lymphatic or vascular (blood) systems, and this is when they may become lethal.
The idea of chemotherapy is to kill rapidly dividing cells. Because cancer cells, as mentioned above, are rapidly growing and more aggressive than normal cells, it is hoped that in the process of killing these rapidly dividing cells, the cancer cells will be killed. The biggest problem with chemotherapy is that it does not discriminate between normal, healthy cells and cancer cells. It just simply attacks rapidly dividing cells. Because of this, both cancer cells and normal cells get killed in the process.
The main reason why most side effects are noticed during chemotherapy, is because the normal cells in the body that are in the process of diving are killed. For example, the hair, skin, and nails grow quickly because they are the sites of rapidly dividing cells. When these cells are killed, the hair, skin, and nails are also killed in the process. This is why many people experience hair loss, darkened or dry skin, and brittle, dark nails (in more aggressive chemo treatments some people even lose their nails). Moist membranes (like the mouth and nose) are also the sites of rapidly dividing cells. Again, because these cells are now being damaged, these once moist areas may now become dry. This is why many chemotherapy patients develop dry mouth and mouth sores during chemo treatments.
The most crucial cells that are killed in the process of chemotherapy are the white and red blood cells, which are produced by the bone marrow. These cells are extremely important to our health, so killing them poses a great deal of risks. The white blood cells are part of your immune system, and help to fight infection. When they are killed, you are, therefore, more susceptible to infections and less able to fight them off. After each treatment, the white blood cells are reduced more and more. The 10th day of after each treatment they are thought to be at their lowest, then they gradually begin to rejuvenate around the 14th day.
The red blood cells, or 'haemoglobin,' are responsible for circulating oxygen throughout the body. When the red blood cells are killed, something called "anemeia" can be caused. This causes fatigue and breathlessness and may need to be treated with a blood transfusion.
The final area of the body affected by the killing of dividing cells that I would like to mention is the digestive system. This is another site for rapidly dividing cells, which becomes heavily affected by chemotherapy. When the cells of the digestive system are killed symptoms like nausea, vomiting, acid indigestion, diarrhea, and other such symptoms are caused.
Chemotherapy may be preceded, followed, or accompanied by surgery, radiation, hormonal therapy, gene therapy, and/or bone marrow or blood stem cell transplantation. This all depends on the type and stage of the cancer. There are also various alternative forms of treatment (i.e. diet, exercise, herbal remedies, etc.) and new forms of treatment (i.e. vaccines) on the rise. In my case, I recieved surgery, followed by chemotherapy, which will finally be followed by hormonal therapy.
I hope this helps you to better understand chemotherapy, as I know I have been and will be discussing it heavily in this blog. I know I had no idea about chemotherapy (or cancer for that matter) before I was diagnosed. But, even if you do not have cancer or don't have anyone close to you with cancer, it is likely that someday in the future you or someone you love will be touched by it. I know that doesn't sound the most positive, but we need to face the facts. 1 in 2 people will now be diagnosed with some sort of cancer in their lifetime. That can't be ignored. So why not be informed about it, right?
If you'd like to know more about chemotherapy, you can visit the following sites:
Canadian Cancer Society- Chemotherapy
Cancer Backup- Chemotherapy
Chemotherapy.com
Chemocare.com
Sunday, November 26, 2006
He who fears he will suffer, already suffers from fear
After Wednesday, the effects of the dreaded 'first round of chemo' gradually lifted. Each day, I found myself feeling better and better. The feeling of bloatedness drifted away bit by bit and by Thursday I could eat just about anything I wanted without feeling any different than I would on a normal day. A few times I found myself saying: "I can't even believe I'm on chemo."
Of all the side effects I experienced thus far, I would have to say that the allergic reaction to the anti-emetics was the worst experience. The nausea was quite bad, as you can well imagine, but it only lasted a couple of days. I thought the mere choking and suffocation for an hour and a half was far more torturous than the stomach sickness. In fact, it was so torturous that I think I've become traumatized over it.
This trauma seems to present itself in my recent experiences of overwhelming paranoia that it will happen again. This paranoia seems to have been hanging over my head almost constantly since it happened. I worry in the morning, evening, night, and even wake up during sleep worrying about it. Lately I have been experiencing a little bit of dryness in the throat (which may or may not be a minor side effect of chemo). This slight dryness can send my imagination running off in a million directions if I allow it. Is it happening again? What if it wasn't the Stemitil that caused the reaction? What if I'm allergic to the chemo meds?
The paranoia mentioned above can be awful because it, in turn, causes me to become panicky. My heart races, my mind wanders, I get shaky. All because I'm scared of this terrible occurence presenting itself once again. The awful thing is that it is not only the allergic reaction I fear. It is the quality of care I will recieve when taking a reaction as such that concerns me.
You see, when I first went to the hospital in Glace Bay Monday night, as you may or may not remember me mentioning in previous posts, there was no doctor on call. I cannot explain to you how awful it felt to be suffocating and arrive to a hospital to find that no one there could help me. After then rushing from the Glace Bay hospital to the Sydney hospital (a 25 minute drive away), I was looked at like I had 1000 eyeballs by the triage nurse. Clearly, when you cannot breathe you will panic. There is no time for small talk. The nurse made me sit down while she asked me 1000 questions and urged me to "calm down" as I sat there suffering. Was this really necessary? After going through a 15 minute ordeal that I felt was completely unnecessary, I was sent to sit and wait in a room for at least another 40 minutes (again, it was a CHORE to breathe or swallow) for a doctor to come and give me a simple shot of benadyl and steroid. Do I need to be out cold or dying in order for anyone to take me serious?
So, I think my recent overwhelming paranoia and sense of panic stems not only from the allergic reaction itself, but moreso from the fear that I will not be cared for properly, as I feel I was not last Monday night. I am extremely fearful that something will happen to me and I will go to the hospital to find no doctor there again. I am fearful of waiting "patiently" while I suffer. I am fearful that something worse may happen if I have to wait again. It would be nice to know that if you are on chemotherapy and are taking an allergic reaction (or feeling anything that awful, as this IS a dangerous medication) that someone will at least come and make sure you are not dying when you come in.
The bad thing is that this happens to people all the time at these hospitals. So, please, take my word. If something like this happens to you and you are 'miffed' (as you have probably guessed that I am), please call the hospital and complain! I plan to do this first thing tomorrow morning. I didn't realize how traumatizing this experience would be to me until I experienced a week of complete uneasiness over it. If this hadn't happened, I feel that I would be feeling MUCH more content with my overall chemotherapy experience thus far.
Now ... I need to somehow find a way of dealing with this newly developed paranoia and sense of panic. So far, convincing myself that I am overreacting, taking a chance to do some deep breathing, trying my best to think rationally, and going to a comfortable, quiet spot have helped me deal with feelings of panic for the most part. I think that in order to move on from this experience, put it in the past, and stop myself from thinking about it, however, I need to somehow be reassured that I will be taken care of if anything happens to me. The first step in doing this will be to call the hospital tomorrow to complain. The second step will be to talk to Dr. MacCormick about the reaction to try to discover the root of it and how I can best avoid it happening again. The third step will be to get a list of emergency hours for all the surrounding hospitals so that I am sure not to go to one without a doctor (even though, in my opinion, all the hospitals should always have a doctor on call).
Any other ideas?
Of all the side effects I experienced thus far, I would have to say that the allergic reaction to the anti-emetics was the worst experience. The nausea was quite bad, as you can well imagine, but it only lasted a couple of days. I thought the mere choking and suffocation for an hour and a half was far more torturous than the stomach sickness. In fact, it was so torturous that I think I've become traumatized over it.
This trauma seems to present itself in my recent experiences of overwhelming paranoia that it will happen again. This paranoia seems to have been hanging over my head almost constantly since it happened. I worry in the morning, evening, night, and even wake up during sleep worrying about it. Lately I have been experiencing a little bit of dryness in the throat (which may or may not be a minor side effect of chemo). This slight dryness can send my imagination running off in a million directions if I allow it. Is it happening again? What if it wasn't the Stemitil that caused the reaction? What if I'm allergic to the chemo meds?
The paranoia mentioned above can be awful because it, in turn, causes me to become panicky. My heart races, my mind wanders, I get shaky. All because I'm scared of this terrible occurence presenting itself once again. The awful thing is that it is not only the allergic reaction I fear. It is the quality of care I will recieve when taking a reaction as such that concerns me.
You see, when I first went to the hospital in Glace Bay Monday night, as you may or may not remember me mentioning in previous posts, there was no doctor on call. I cannot explain to you how awful it felt to be suffocating and arrive to a hospital to find that no one there could help me. After then rushing from the Glace Bay hospital to the Sydney hospital (a 25 minute drive away), I was looked at like I had 1000 eyeballs by the triage nurse. Clearly, when you cannot breathe you will panic. There is no time for small talk. The nurse made me sit down while she asked me 1000 questions and urged me to "calm down" as I sat there suffering. Was this really necessary? After going through a 15 minute ordeal that I felt was completely unnecessary, I was sent to sit and wait in a room for at least another 40 minutes (again, it was a CHORE to breathe or swallow) for a doctor to come and give me a simple shot of benadyl and steroid. Do I need to be out cold or dying in order for anyone to take me serious?
So, I think my recent overwhelming paranoia and sense of panic stems not only from the allergic reaction itself, but moreso from the fear that I will not be cared for properly, as I feel I was not last Monday night. I am extremely fearful that something will happen to me and I will go to the hospital to find no doctor there again. I am fearful of waiting "patiently" while I suffer. I am fearful that something worse may happen if I have to wait again. It would be nice to know that if you are on chemotherapy and are taking an allergic reaction (or feeling anything that awful, as this IS a dangerous medication) that someone will at least come and make sure you are not dying when you come in.
The bad thing is that this happens to people all the time at these hospitals. So, please, take my word. If something like this happens to you and you are 'miffed' (as you have probably guessed that I am), please call the hospital and complain! I plan to do this first thing tomorrow morning. I didn't realize how traumatizing this experience would be to me until I experienced a week of complete uneasiness over it. If this hadn't happened, I feel that I would be feeling MUCH more content with my overall chemotherapy experience thus far.
Now ... I need to somehow find a way of dealing with this newly developed paranoia and sense of panic. So far, convincing myself that I am overreacting, taking a chance to do some deep breathing, trying my best to think rationally, and going to a comfortable, quiet spot have helped me deal with feelings of panic for the most part. I think that in order to move on from this experience, put it in the past, and stop myself from thinking about it, however, I need to somehow be reassured that I will be taken care of if anything happens to me. The first step in doing this will be to call the hospital tomorrow to complain. The second step will be to talk to Dr. MacCormick about the reaction to try to discover the root of it and how I can best avoid it happening again. The third step will be to get a list of emergency hours for all the surrounding hospitals so that I am sure not to go to one without a doctor (even though, in my opinion, all the hospitals should always have a doctor on call).
Any other ideas?
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Marijuana
After the "rare" occurence that happened Monday night, I have been feeling quite well. Tuesday I was back to the faint nausea I noticed on Friday (day 1). It has since then changed to a bloated feeling in the stomach, which feels kind of like I ate a little too much. But, otherwise, I am coping quite well and feeling good. Yesterday I had a very busy day, which almost resembled a normal day before chemo. So I am quite happy right now. Thanks for the messages, comments, and calls everyone ... your thoughts and concerns are much appreciated!
On to a new topic. I need to hit the rewind button here for a moment ... back to that fateful day when Dr. Maccormick first suggested chemo to me. We were discussing side-effects, namely nausea, when the doctor told me he would prescribe me 2 pills to assist with the nausea. He said the first (Ondansetron or "Zolfran") would be taken twice a day every 6-8 hours for four days following each treatment. The second ("Stemitil") could be taken "as needed" for nausea and vomiting. He told me that nausea is often worse in younger people taking chemo, so if the pills didn't work, he would suggest alternatives. Hold on to your seat. He said: "Melanie, I hate to say this in front of your mother, but do you ever smoke marijuana?" I was sort of shocked and not expecting this. My reply was simply "No." In return, he said: "Well, if these pills don't work, marijuana is likely what I will be prescribing to you."
As you can well conjur, the pills are not working. I vomited while taking them and have still been experiencing nausea, for one. And second, I took an allergic reaction to one of them. One of the cancer nurses called me yesterday to check up on me, and I explained everything that had been going on. She said that this week I will have a follow-up appointment with Dr. MacCormick and I should tell him about all of this then. She said he would likely suggest "something else" (you and I both know what that something will likely be).
Never would I EVER have thought that marijuana would be prescribed to me by a doctor. I did some reading on it and found out that marijuana for medicinal use is perfectly legal in Canada. It is grown in the Prairies and turned into various forms for use in people with terminal illnesses, chronic pain from diseases like MS, and other ailments from serious illnesses (i.e. nausea from chemo). It is even legal to be shipped through Canada Post! I saw an application form online for it, and, if accepted, you can choose whether you want it delivered to your door in dried form or seed form so you can grow it on your own. You then recieve a lisense to possess and grow marijuana. It is prescribed in one-month batches and you need to reapply each month for a new dose. The amount given is decided upon by the amount needed or the illness. There are also various ways of taking the marijuana: pill form (called Marinol), liquid form (called Sativex), or dried form (which can then me smoked in a joint or bong, or baked in foods like brownies).
One thing is for sure, if marijuana was legalized for medical purposes, it took a lot of work. This could only have resulted from an actual need for and benefit from the drug. More simply, it must work if it was legalized for medical purposes. Thus, if it is suggested to me, I will definitely consider trying it out. Who knows, it may just be the cure to my temporary ailments.
To read more about medicinal uses of marijuana, follow these links:
Health Canada: Medicinal Uses of Marihuana
Health Canada: Marihuana for Medical Purposes
Medical Marijuana: User's Guide
Marijuana ProCon. Org
Hits and Misses: The Best Way to Take Medical Marijuana?
Answers.Com: Medical Marijuana
10 Pros and Cons of Medical Marijuana
LA Times: Canada Approves Cannabis Spray
Tell me your opinions on this highly-debated issue!!!
On to a new topic. I need to hit the rewind button here for a moment ... back to that fateful day when Dr. Maccormick first suggested chemo to me. We were discussing side-effects, namely nausea, when the doctor told me he would prescribe me 2 pills to assist with the nausea. He said the first (Ondansetron or "Zolfran") would be taken twice a day every 6-8 hours for four days following each treatment. The second ("Stemitil") could be taken "as needed" for nausea and vomiting. He told me that nausea is often worse in younger people taking chemo, so if the pills didn't work, he would suggest alternatives. Hold on to your seat. He said: "Melanie, I hate to say this in front of your mother, but do you ever smoke marijuana?" I was sort of shocked and not expecting this. My reply was simply "No." In return, he said: "Well, if these pills don't work, marijuana is likely what I will be prescribing to you."
As you can well conjur, the pills are not working. I vomited while taking them and have still been experiencing nausea, for one. And second, I took an allergic reaction to one of them. One of the cancer nurses called me yesterday to check up on me, and I explained everything that had been going on. She said that this week I will have a follow-up appointment with Dr. MacCormick and I should tell him about all of this then. She said he would likely suggest "something else" (you and I both know what that something will likely be).
Never would I EVER have thought that marijuana would be prescribed to me by a doctor. I did some reading on it and found out that marijuana for medicinal use is perfectly legal in Canada. It is grown in the Prairies and turned into various forms for use in people with terminal illnesses, chronic pain from diseases like MS, and other ailments from serious illnesses (i.e. nausea from chemo). It is even legal to be shipped through Canada Post! I saw an application form online for it, and, if accepted, you can choose whether you want it delivered to your door in dried form or seed form so you can grow it on your own. You then recieve a lisense to possess and grow marijuana. It is prescribed in one-month batches and you need to reapply each month for a new dose. The amount given is decided upon by the amount needed or the illness. There are also various ways of taking the marijuana: pill form (called Marinol), liquid form (called Sativex), or dried form (which can then me smoked in a joint or bong, or baked in foods like brownies).
One thing is for sure, if marijuana was legalized for medical purposes, it took a lot of work. This could only have resulted from an actual need for and benefit from the drug. More simply, it must work if it was legalized for medical purposes. Thus, if it is suggested to me, I will definitely consider trying it out. Who knows, it may just be the cure to my temporary ailments.
To read more about medicinal uses of marijuana, follow these links:
Health Canada: Medicinal Uses of Marihuana
Health Canada: Marihuana for Medical Purposes
Medical Marijuana: User's Guide
Marijuana ProCon. Org
Hits and Misses: The Best Way to Take Medical Marijuana?
Answers.Com: Medical Marijuana
10 Pros and Cons of Medical Marijuana
LA Times: Canada Approves Cannabis Spray
Tell me your opinions on this highly-debated issue!!!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
NEVER rule out the rare
Monday I felt much more like myself. I managed to have lunch with my grandmother, take a quick run into Walmart, take a short walk with my father, and eat all my meals. I even managed to sit long enough to complete an entire blog! Because everything was going so well, Mike and I decided to go out for a tea and a drive in the evening. While we were out, something completely unexpected happened.
It started with my lips puckering. I thought, ‘This is kind of annoying.’ But after about 10 minutes it became worse. Now, it felt as though I was having muscle spasms in my jaw and tongue, and my teeth were clenching together. The first thing I thought was that maybe I was taking a panick attack. I had heard people say that you feel as though you can’t breathe and are going to die when a bad attack hits. Was this a panick attack? After allowing another 10 minutes or so to pass while I tried to calm myself down, I decided that this symptom did not seem normal. I told Mike to take me to the ER right away.
We drove to the Glace Bay ER and found it to be closed (don’t even get me started on this)! My mother, who was at the hospital waiting when we arrived, then drove us out to the ER in Sydney—at the hospital where I had mostly everything done thus far. After a painstaking 30 minute drive to the second hospital, I barged through the emergency doors and demanded to see a doctor. By this time, I was very panicky—I felt shaky, restless, and nervous. I was panicky for a good reason, however. I couldn’t breathe! As every minute went by I felt my throat closing over more, my teeth were now grinding together. It felt exactly as if someone was choking me. I even wondered if I might be taking some sort of seizure at this point.
The nurse made me go through the regular registration stuff, which took another 15 minutes or so, and then she led me into a room to wait for a doctor. A nurse came in and gave me oxygen, but she said that my oxygen levels appeared to be normal. She then administered an IV in my arm because she said the doctor would likely want to give me something for whatever was causing me the distress. I waited another 30-40 minutes by the time a doctor came.
After explaining everything to him, the doctor concluded that one of the anti-nausea medications (likely Stemetil) was causing this effect. He said it is a rare side effect, but does happen—people feel their mouth and jaw muscles pulling and the throat swells out, making it hard to breathe. He said he would give me a dose of Benadryl for the allergic reaction and some anti-swelling steroids through the intravenous, and he gave me an Adavan to calm me down.
After about 5 minutes, I was finally able to breathe, but my body was full of tremors, likely due to the stress it had gone through. They laid a warm blanket over me and after about 20 minutes I was feeling back to normal. When I arrived back home I read the pamphlet given to me about Stemetil. It recorded 3 categories of side-effects: more common, less common, and rare. This is what I read under the ‘Rare Side Effects’ category:
Jaw, neck, and back muscle spasms; constant uncontrolled movement of the tongue, face, mouth, or jaw; sore throat, fever, weakness; trouble swallowing; tremors, drooling; slow jerky movements. STOP taking this medication and contact your doctor IMMEDIATELY if you have any of these symptoms.
Looks like I again made the category of “rare.” I would never want to go through this again and, as you can probably guess, a new form of anti-nausea medication is most definitely needed to be prescribed.
It started with my lips puckering. I thought, ‘This is kind of annoying.’ But after about 10 minutes it became worse. Now, it felt as though I was having muscle spasms in my jaw and tongue, and my teeth were clenching together. The first thing I thought was that maybe I was taking a panick attack. I had heard people say that you feel as though you can’t breathe and are going to die when a bad attack hits. Was this a panick attack? After allowing another 10 minutes or so to pass while I tried to calm myself down, I decided that this symptom did not seem normal. I told Mike to take me to the ER right away.
We drove to the Glace Bay ER and found it to be closed (don’t even get me started on this)! My mother, who was at the hospital waiting when we arrived, then drove us out to the ER in Sydney—at the hospital where I had mostly everything done thus far. After a painstaking 30 minute drive to the second hospital, I barged through the emergency doors and demanded to see a doctor. By this time, I was very panicky—I felt shaky, restless, and nervous. I was panicky for a good reason, however. I couldn’t breathe! As every minute went by I felt my throat closing over more, my teeth were now grinding together. It felt exactly as if someone was choking me. I even wondered if I might be taking some sort of seizure at this point.
The nurse made me go through the regular registration stuff, which took another 15 minutes or so, and then she led me into a room to wait for a doctor. A nurse came in and gave me oxygen, but she said that my oxygen levels appeared to be normal. She then administered an IV in my arm because she said the doctor would likely want to give me something for whatever was causing me the distress. I waited another 30-40 minutes by the time a doctor came.
After explaining everything to him, the doctor concluded that one of the anti-nausea medications (likely Stemetil) was causing this effect. He said it is a rare side effect, but does happen—people feel their mouth and jaw muscles pulling and the throat swells out, making it hard to breathe. He said he would give me a dose of Benadryl for the allergic reaction and some anti-swelling steroids through the intravenous, and he gave me an Adavan to calm me down.
After about 5 minutes, I was finally able to breathe, but my body was full of tremors, likely due to the stress it had gone through. They laid a warm blanket over me and after about 20 minutes I was feeling back to normal. When I arrived back home I read the pamphlet given to me about Stemetil. It recorded 3 categories of side-effects: more common, less common, and rare. This is what I read under the ‘Rare Side Effects’ category:
Jaw, neck, and back muscle spasms; constant uncontrolled movement of the tongue, face, mouth, or jaw; sore throat, fever, weakness; trouble swallowing; tremors, drooling; slow jerky movements. STOP taking this medication and contact your doctor IMMEDIATELY if you have any of these symptoms.
Looks like I again made the category of “rare.” I would never want to go through this again and, as you can probably guess, a new form of anti-nausea medication is most definitely needed to be prescribed.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Chemotherapy is NOT for Wusses
When I arrived home Friday afternoon I was feeling fine, aside from some mild drowsiness brought on by the anti-nausea medication and the Benadryl. I got my prescriptions filled at the pharmacy for nausea-- Zolfran and Stemitil. They seemed to be working from what I could tell. I had a relaxed night just to be on the safe side, and Mike and I just watched movies and cuddled up for the evening.
Saturday afternoon was just about the same and I was becoming surprised-- am I ever going to feel the effects of this? I told my family that if this was what chemo is like, than I will do fine with it-- piece of cake. My father and I went for a long walk through the woods with our dog and I actually felt like turning it into a run, which goes to show how much energy I had. I ate all my meals all day without a problem and was able to do most normal things.
When Saturday evening hit, however, things would change. Later in the afternoon, I began having faint feelings of nausea that were sort of lingering in the background. I ignored them, but they eventually became worse. I had a big feed of spaghetti and meatballs, which I requested from my mother for dinner, and Mike and I headed out to get tea at Tim's afterwards. What was to happen was not a pretty sight. As we were driving down the street I was overcome with an overwhleming sensation of nausea. It was like the faint nausea I was feeling throughout the day had suddenly multiplied itself by 100. "Pull over!" I said. Mike pulled into a parking lot and I began throwing up heavily all over the ground. He quickly got me back home and I knew that I was now in for it. The feeling was exactly like this: you have just drank WAY too much alcohol and are throwing up violently. The only difference is that when you throw up, the nausea dosn't go away. It lingers and lingers, making you feel absolutely horrible.
That evening I vomited three times and wound up with a massive headache, which I blame the anti-emetics (anti-nausea) medication for. My mom stayed with me in my bed all night as I tossed and turned and remained in and out of sleep until the morning.
Sunday I felt relatively the same--I was nauseated all day but didn't throw up. I felt as though I had gone through war the previous night so it was now time to recouperate. For the most part, I remained in bed not only for recovery purposes, but because I feared that if I stood up, I may throw up. Laying down seemed to ease the nausea for short periods of time. We decided that the spaghetti dinner may not have helped the nausea, after reading that I should avoid spicy, sweet, and greasy foods to cut down on nausea. So we are now blaming the food I ate in part for causing my violent illness. Sunday, my Mom made me homemade turkey soup--we figured this may be better tolerated and would give me the fluids my body needed.
I remember all weekend imagining myself going through this for the next few months and the thought alone made me sick to my stomach. How will I ever get through this? I would need to discuss alternatives to the anti-nausea medication that was currently prescribed to me with Dr. MacCormick. There was no way I could go on feeling as miserable as I had this weekend. On the bright side, I read some people's stories about taking "AC" chemo meds and found out that the nausea usually only lasts up to 5 days after each treatment in most people. So I gained hope that I would possibly be getting over this soon. I also decided to be proactive and start eating foods that are easy on the stomach and generally well tolerated-- foods that are rich, spicy, or greasy would have to go for a while and lighter more bland foods would have to take their places. I also decided to eat smaller meals throughout the day and continue to keep myself as hydrated as possible. I am very worried that if I continue to vomit, I will lose much needed weight. I am 114 lbs and 5'8ish now, so any thinner could not possibly be healthy.
Through all this, I continue to remember a chapter title in Dr. Marla Shapiro's Book "Life in the Balance: My Journey with Breast Cancer." The chapter is entitled 'Chemotherapy is not for Wusses." Now I understand exactly what she means.
Saturday afternoon was just about the same and I was becoming surprised-- am I ever going to feel the effects of this? I told my family that if this was what chemo is like, than I will do fine with it-- piece of cake. My father and I went for a long walk through the woods with our dog and I actually felt like turning it into a run, which goes to show how much energy I had. I ate all my meals all day without a problem and was able to do most normal things.
When Saturday evening hit, however, things would change. Later in the afternoon, I began having faint feelings of nausea that were sort of lingering in the background. I ignored them, but they eventually became worse. I had a big feed of spaghetti and meatballs, which I requested from my mother for dinner, and Mike and I headed out to get tea at Tim's afterwards. What was to happen was not a pretty sight. As we were driving down the street I was overcome with an overwhleming sensation of nausea. It was like the faint nausea I was feeling throughout the day had suddenly multiplied itself by 100. "Pull over!" I said. Mike pulled into a parking lot and I began throwing up heavily all over the ground. He quickly got me back home and I knew that I was now in for it. The feeling was exactly like this: you have just drank WAY too much alcohol and are throwing up violently. The only difference is that when you throw up, the nausea dosn't go away. It lingers and lingers, making you feel absolutely horrible.
That evening I vomited three times and wound up with a massive headache, which I blame the anti-emetics (anti-nausea) medication for. My mom stayed with me in my bed all night as I tossed and turned and remained in and out of sleep until the morning.
Sunday I felt relatively the same--I was nauseated all day but didn't throw up. I felt as though I had gone through war the previous night so it was now time to recouperate. For the most part, I remained in bed not only for recovery purposes, but because I feared that if I stood up, I may throw up. Laying down seemed to ease the nausea for short periods of time. We decided that the spaghetti dinner may not have helped the nausea, after reading that I should avoid spicy, sweet, and greasy foods to cut down on nausea. So we are now blaming the food I ate in part for causing my violent illness. Sunday, my Mom made me homemade turkey soup--we figured this may be better tolerated and would give me the fluids my body needed.
I remember all weekend imagining myself going through this for the next few months and the thought alone made me sick to my stomach. How will I ever get through this? I would need to discuss alternatives to the anti-nausea medication that was currently prescribed to me with Dr. MacCormick. There was no way I could go on feeling as miserable as I had this weekend. On the bright side, I read some people's stories about taking "AC" chemo meds and found out that the nausea usually only lasts up to 5 days after each treatment in most people. So I gained hope that I would possibly be getting over this soon. I also decided to be proactive and start eating foods that are easy on the stomach and generally well tolerated-- foods that are rich, spicy, or greasy would have to go for a while and lighter more bland foods would have to take their places. I also decided to eat smaller meals throughout the day and continue to keep myself as hydrated as possible. I am very worried that if I continue to vomit, I will lose much needed weight. I am 114 lbs and 5'8ish now, so any thinner could not possibly be healthy.
Through all this, I continue to remember a chapter title in Dr. Marla Shapiro's Book "Life in the Balance: My Journey with Breast Cancer." The chapter is entitled 'Chemotherapy is not for Wusses." Now I understand exactly what she means.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Round One
Friday came quickly. That morning, I had enough time to get up, eat breakfast, get ready, and drive in to Sydney for the appointment. I was somewhat nervous, but still feeling strong and ready for the challenge.
When we arrived at the hospital, my parents and I were met by a 'chemo nurse' who escorted us down into the chemo room. There were about 10 other cancer patients recieving treatments in this room, some looking sicker than others. I felt them eye me as I walked through the room and down to the back. The nurse pointed to a chair where I was to sit and recieve treatment. It was a very comfortable recliner, which I knew would make this easier for me. The nurse did the 'usual stuff' they do to me now-- blood pressure, temperature, pulse. Everything was fine. Then she told me I was to lay my hand in a bucket of hot water (this wasn't so usual). She said this was a common procedure here used because the warm water makes the veins in the hands more visible. I lay my hand in the hot water for about five minutes and soon enough, the nurse was back with the needles she was about to poke in my hand.
Before she went digging, she offered me an Adavan to slip under my tongue (this is a drug used to relax patients). I took it, although I didn't really feel I needed it. I then felt the now-familiar feeling of the needle prick penetrating my hand. I turned my head and clenched my opposite hand. Somehow I wasn't getting better at this. And ... wait ... it didn't work. "Uh oh, dear. It went in easily but it doesn't seem to want to go through the whole way. We'll have to try a new one. Sorry." Just my luck. Don't I have enough to worry about? She held her finger on the now stinging-like-crazy needle hole in my hand. She explained that it stung because some saline from the IV got inside it. This was like pouring salt on an open wound. Ouch. She quickly moved on to another vein in the hand. This one was a success. We could now get on with what was important-- chemo.
The nurse first gave me a small bag of anti-nausea medication through the IV before she started the chemo drugs. She told me that I would need to take the pill form of this drug (Ondanesetron) at home, twice a day every 6-8 hours. The solution felt cold going in the vein, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. When this was completed, I saw the nurse coming with a new bag to hook onto the IV-- it was a bag of red colored solution that I was expecting all along. This is often called the "Red Devil" by chemo patients. I knew (by the name alone) that this was going to make my life a living hell. She hooked it up and I sat and waited for it to pump. It stung like crazy going in. Suddenly, I felt an itch going up my arm. I looked and saw blotchy red marks on the underside of my arm. Great ... more complications. I told the nurse and she said it appeared that I had sensitive skin and was probably reacting to the alcohol. She said she would haveto run some more saline solution and then give me some benadryl to ease the allergic reaction. This added yet another 30 minutes or so onto my already painful ordeal. When this was completed, she finished the red devil for a few minutes and followed it by the dose of Cytoxin for 40 minutes. As time went by, the stinging eased and I became groggy from the benadryl. Soon it was time to head home.
I had no idea what to expect.
When we arrived at the hospital, my parents and I were met by a 'chemo nurse' who escorted us down into the chemo room. There were about 10 other cancer patients recieving treatments in this room, some looking sicker than others. I felt them eye me as I walked through the room and down to the back. The nurse pointed to a chair where I was to sit and recieve treatment. It was a very comfortable recliner, which I knew would make this easier for me. The nurse did the 'usual stuff' they do to me now-- blood pressure, temperature, pulse. Everything was fine. Then she told me I was to lay my hand in a bucket of hot water (this wasn't so usual). She said this was a common procedure here used because the warm water makes the veins in the hands more visible. I lay my hand in the hot water for about five minutes and soon enough, the nurse was back with the needles she was about to poke in my hand.
Before she went digging, she offered me an Adavan to slip under my tongue (this is a drug used to relax patients). I took it, although I didn't really feel I needed it. I then felt the now-familiar feeling of the needle prick penetrating my hand. I turned my head and clenched my opposite hand. Somehow I wasn't getting better at this. And ... wait ... it didn't work. "Uh oh, dear. It went in easily but it doesn't seem to want to go through the whole way. We'll have to try a new one. Sorry." Just my luck. Don't I have enough to worry about? She held her finger on the now stinging-like-crazy needle hole in my hand. She explained that it stung because some saline from the IV got inside it. This was like pouring salt on an open wound. Ouch. She quickly moved on to another vein in the hand. This one was a success. We could now get on with what was important-- chemo.
The nurse first gave me a small bag of anti-nausea medication through the IV before she started the chemo drugs. She told me that I would need to take the pill form of this drug (Ondanesetron) at home, twice a day every 6-8 hours. The solution felt cold going in the vein, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. When this was completed, I saw the nurse coming with a new bag to hook onto the IV-- it was a bag of red colored solution that I was expecting all along. This is often called the "Red Devil" by chemo patients. I knew (by the name alone) that this was going to make my life a living hell. She hooked it up and I sat and waited for it to pump. It stung like crazy going in. Suddenly, I felt an itch going up my arm. I looked and saw blotchy red marks on the underside of my arm. Great ... more complications. I told the nurse and she said it appeared that I had sensitive skin and was probably reacting to the alcohol. She said she would haveto run some more saline solution and then give me some benadryl to ease the allergic reaction. This added yet another 30 minutes or so onto my already painful ordeal. When this was completed, she finished the red devil for a few minutes and followed it by the dose of Cytoxin for 40 minutes. As time went by, the stinging eased and I became groggy from the benadryl. Soon it was time to head home.
I had no idea what to expect.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
A Lesson and a New 'Do
Thursday kept me busy with things to do. At 2pm, my Dad and I headed into the hospital for what they call a "teaching" on chemotherapy. This is simply an hour-long session where the chemo patient and a family member are taught all about the various side effects of chemotherapy, how to control these side effects, who to contact in emergencies, programs available, etc. etc. I found out nothing that I hadn't already learned through reading and asking questions over the past little while. Basically, the major side effects would be nausea and vomiting, sore mouth, fatigue, and hair loss. Longer term effects could be leukemia, infertility, and osteoperosis. She also touched on what is called "chemobrain," which refers to slower cognitive functioning in chemo patients. This means that for a short time I may experience inattention, irritability, and trouble concentrating.
She stressed the idea of avoiding infection, because between approx. the 10th and 14th days after each treatment, my white bloodcell count would be extremely low. This means I will have very little "fighter" cells available for fighting infection. She warned me to wash my hands FREQUENTLY and to avoid high-traffic areas and people who are sick. If I was to have a fever over 38, I would need to go to the ER immediately for an antibiotic.
I was to avoid becoming pregnant, although ovarian function would probably STOP half way through the treatments, (hopefully temporarily). This also means no periods during chemo (which I can't complain about)!
She warned me to drink lots of fluids for a number of reasons: a) to avoid and/or help dry, sore mouth; b) incase of diarrhea or constipation; c) because one of the chemo drugs collects in the bladder, causing bladder infection-like symptoms.
Finally, she suggested getting lots f rest, but also trying to maintain a normal life. She suggested not staying in bed (as some people will stay there for a month at a time) and trying to move around and be with people as much as possible.
After our meeting, I met Mom and Mike at the salon, where I was to get my FIRST EVER short haircut. Kim (my hairdresser) was confident it would look great and I was feeling pretty excited about the new change. I had always wanted a cut like this but found it hard to be adventurous and break out of the routine ... now I had no other choice! So it was a good way for me to experience a needed change in looks.
I was actually extremely satisfied with the end result, which may make it even harder to go bald!!! This kept me distracted for the remainder of the night and boosted my spirits. Thanks Kim for the wonderful job!
Check out the pics below and let me know what you think :-)
She stressed the idea of avoiding infection, because between approx. the 10th and 14th days after each treatment, my white bloodcell count would be extremely low. This means I will have very little "fighter" cells available for fighting infection. She warned me to wash my hands FREQUENTLY and to avoid high-traffic areas and people who are sick. If I was to have a fever over 38, I would need to go to the ER immediately for an antibiotic.
I was to avoid becoming pregnant, although ovarian function would probably STOP half way through the treatments, (hopefully temporarily). This also means no periods during chemo (which I can't complain about)!
She warned me to drink lots of fluids for a number of reasons: a) to avoid and/or help dry, sore mouth; b) incase of diarrhea or constipation; c) because one of the chemo drugs collects in the bladder, causing bladder infection-like symptoms.
Finally, she suggested getting lots f rest, but also trying to maintain a normal life. She suggested not staying in bed (as some people will stay there for a month at a time) and trying to move around and be with people as much as possible.
After our meeting, I met Mom and Mike at the salon, where I was to get my FIRST EVER short haircut. Kim (my hairdresser) was confident it would look great and I was feeling pretty excited about the new change. I had always wanted a cut like this but found it hard to be adventurous and break out of the routine ... now I had no other choice! So it was a good way for me to experience a needed change in looks.
I was actually extremely satisfied with the end result, which may make it even harder to go bald!!! This kept me distracted for the remainder of the night and boosted my spirits. Thanks Kim for the wonderful job!
Check out the pics below and let me know what you think :-)
Thursday, November 16, 2006
My last day in the world of "normal"
It is now the day before my first round of chemo, and I'm feeling fine. I am feeling somewhat nervous of the unknown (as anyone would be), but this experience has rendered me used to the unknown and all the feelings that come with it.
Other than some mild nervousness, I feel extremely strong. I never fully understood what people meant when they said "you will beat this," "you have to fight," and other such phrases. I wondered, how can you really fight something that you can't see and that you know little about? It just seemed like a very subjective concept that I was having trouble grasping. But nonetheless, I now understand just what this concept is all about to the fullest.
I told Mike last night that I am experiencing a sensation that almost exactly matches the phrase: "Take the bull by its horns." I honestly feel as though that is what I am doing. I feel that if I put enough energy and effort into fighting for my life and being well, that I will be a tough one to beat.
I realize 100% that I have no idea what I'm in for. I think that chemotherapy is one of those things that can barely be described with words ... you can't fully understand it until you experience it. But I also feel that I have prepared myself mentally for it as much as is possible, and I think that because of this, I will be much more able to deal with it when it comes. I look at it this way: I could choose to not think about it until the time comes and then let it take over my life when it hits because I had no idea what to expect and had no mental energy and strength to deal with it OR I could choose to be mentally and physically prepared for a huge battle up ahead so when it hits me, I am expecting it more and have already gained the strength I need to fight.
We'll have to see how the battle presents itself. I am fully prepared to be hit with a 'tonne of bricks' and to be 'on my ass' for quite some time, but I am not prepared to let it do this without a fight.
Tonight I will go and get my hair cut short to ease the transition from having long hair to having none. I am thinking of either an extremely short bob like Sienna Miller's or an even shorter 'boycut' like Halle Berry. Another decision to be made....
I'll take pictures of the new cut and post them soon.
Next time I write I will probably have already taken the hours dose of chemo. I'm in for one hell of a ride ...
Other than some mild nervousness, I feel extremely strong. I never fully understood what people meant when they said "you will beat this," "you have to fight," and other such phrases. I wondered, how can you really fight something that you can't see and that you know little about? It just seemed like a very subjective concept that I was having trouble grasping. But nonetheless, I now understand just what this concept is all about to the fullest.
I told Mike last night that I am experiencing a sensation that almost exactly matches the phrase: "Take the bull by its horns." I honestly feel as though that is what I am doing. I feel that if I put enough energy and effort into fighting for my life and being well, that I will be a tough one to beat.
I realize 100% that I have no idea what I'm in for. I think that chemotherapy is one of those things that can barely be described with words ... you can't fully understand it until you experience it. But I also feel that I have prepared myself mentally for it as much as is possible, and I think that because of this, I will be much more able to deal with it when it comes. I look at it this way: I could choose to not think about it until the time comes and then let it take over my life when it hits because I had no idea what to expect and had no mental energy and strength to deal with it OR I could choose to be mentally and physically prepared for a huge battle up ahead so when it hits me, I am expecting it more and have already gained the strength I need to fight.
We'll have to see how the battle presents itself. I am fully prepared to be hit with a 'tonne of bricks' and to be 'on my ass' for quite some time, but I am not prepared to let it do this without a fight.
Tonight I will go and get my hair cut short to ease the transition from having long hair to having none. I am thinking of either an extremely short bob like Sienna Miller's or an even shorter 'boycut' like Halle Berry. Another decision to be made....
I'll take pictures of the new cut and post them soon.
Next time I write I will probably have already taken the hours dose of chemo. I'm in for one hell of a ride ...
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
And Britney Takes the Lead :-)
Okay ... I think I've decided on a couple of wigs after endless emails, messages, and posts! Thanks for your help guys :-)
The most popular were .....
#5 (Britney) and #2 (from Ebay) for blonde ones
#1 (brown from Ebay) for a fun/ different one
I think I'm going to go with #5 for the blonde, because it is a monofilament wig, which means it has a special cap designed for comfort and natural look. The cap is nearly transparent, which means the scalp almost exactly matches the natural scalp colour. Also, the cap material is soft and made for comfort. Each piece of hair is sewn in by hand too, so that the wig is easier to style and flows and moves naturally. So #5 it is.
Thanks again everyone! Time to order ... I'll be sure to post pics when I finally recieve them!
Mel XO
The most popular were .....
#5 (Britney) and #2 (from Ebay) for blonde ones
#1 (brown from Ebay) for a fun/ different one
I think I'm going to go with #5 for the blonde, because it is a monofilament wig, which means it has a special cap designed for comfort and natural look. The cap is nearly transparent, which means the scalp almost exactly matches the natural scalp colour. Also, the cap material is soft and made for comfort. Each piece of hair is sewn in by hand too, so that the wig is easier to style and flows and moves naturally. So #5 it is.
Thanks again everyone! Time to order ... I'll be sure to post pics when I finally recieve them!
Mel XO
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Temporary Post: Help me!!!
Help! I am going to order my wig first thing tomorrow morning and I'm having a rough time deciding which ones to get. I plan to get a blonde one for everyday use and a different coloured one as a second wig for fun. I have already narrowed this list down to at least 1/4!!! There are 7 left on the list. Help me pick one!!! Post a comment just telling your 1st and 2nd choice for a blonde wig AND your only choice for an 'other' coloured wig. Keep in mind that I want the blonde one to look as natural as possible, so try to imagine it on MY head!!!
Here goes:
#1
#2
#3
#4
#5
#7
Thanks ... your opinions will help tons!!! :-)
Here goes:
#1
#2
#3
#4
#5
#7
Thanks ... your opinions will help tons!!! :-)
Live, Love, Laugh
When I finally sucked up the emotional flow that this new turn created, I gathered myself and did all the things I needed to do to make the most informed and sound decision I possibly could. I researched, thought about everything all the doctors had told me and suggested to me, weighed my options, and talked with my closest family and friends. After all this, the decision still was not an easy or a clear one. Both avenues seemed to have equal benefits and risks. Which is the right decision? Unfortunately, the reality of life is that we can never learn which was the best decision until we see the outcome. If the answers were always there for us, life would be without challenges to overcome. You can decide for yourself whether or not this would be ideal.
I decided that I could not play with my life. A 5% overall benefit in the risk of getting cancer again is a significant one in the overall scheme of things. Afterall, there was only a .1% risk of me getting cancer in the first place, and I got it. So when you consider this, 5% seems to be a big number. Also, i know that Dr. MacCormick is not the type to just hand out chemotherapy medication freely--I know this because he was not going to give it to me in the first place. Obviously, he felt that it was beneficial for me to take it, or he would not have suggested it. He also had a few other doctors to back up his decision. Something in my gut was telling me that I should not take risks. Call me a coward for not going against a doctor's recommendation about a relatively "grey" matter, but this is what I felt was the right decision.
With this decision made, I actually felt at ease. The decision eased the uncertainty associated with waiting for doctor's decisions. At least I now know what bridge I will cross, although I really do not know exactly how stable this bridge will be.
Now that I knew the direction my life would take, I once again entered "prep" mode. This first involvd me taking whatever measures were necessary to ease the pain associated with hair loss. I spent a whole evening looking at wigs online and got some second opinions from friends. I went out and bought a couple of new hats and scarfs for head covers.
I also came to the realization that soon I would be unable to enjoy public places, especially during the busy Christmas season. This meant no malls, bars, concerts, or other high-traffic places. This would help me avoid getting infections, which are less likely to be faught off when immune cells are killed during chemotherapy. But, it definitely would not help my social life and would not be easy during the Christmas season when shopping has to get done. Because of this, I decided to spend my last weekend before chemo shopping for Christmas gifts. Mike and I had previously arranged to do a lot of our shopping in Halifax at the end of November, but this would no longer be possible. Thus, we decided to make this weekend extra special by taking our trip a little earlier. This way, I could get my shopping done and also let loose a little before taking the bull by the horns. So, in a matter of 1 day we make the quick decision to pack up and leave. (I need to thank Mike for cancelling his football tournament so that he could be with me during this important time.)
The weekend was good and I managed to forget about everything that was going on for a few days. I have learned that there are definite cures (at least short-term) for stress and life's crazy turns: living (keeping busy doing the things you love to do), loving (realizing how wonderful love is and making the most of it ... in my case Mike and my family come to mind), and laughing (laughter has a weird way of making you feel fuzzy inside ... friends are often a good route here).
In a way, this week has become a week to cherish everything I have in life and to live life to the fullest. Soon enough, life will take yet another crazy twist that I will have to deal with. For now, I am living life in the now and enjoying every minute of it. I will try my best to do the same no matter what life brings ... even during chemo.
I decided that I could not play with my life. A 5% overall benefit in the risk of getting cancer again is a significant one in the overall scheme of things. Afterall, there was only a .1% risk of me getting cancer in the first place, and I got it. So when you consider this, 5% seems to be a big number. Also, i know that Dr. MacCormick is not the type to just hand out chemotherapy medication freely--I know this because he was not going to give it to me in the first place. Obviously, he felt that it was beneficial for me to take it, or he would not have suggested it. He also had a few other doctors to back up his decision. Something in my gut was telling me that I should not take risks. Call me a coward for not going against a doctor's recommendation about a relatively "grey" matter, but this is what I felt was the right decision.
With this decision made, I actually felt at ease. The decision eased the uncertainty associated with waiting for doctor's decisions. At least I now know what bridge I will cross, although I really do not know exactly how stable this bridge will be.
Now that I knew the direction my life would take, I once again entered "prep" mode. This first involvd me taking whatever measures were necessary to ease the pain associated with hair loss. I spent a whole evening looking at wigs online and got some second opinions from friends. I went out and bought a couple of new hats and scarfs for head covers.
I also came to the realization that soon I would be unable to enjoy public places, especially during the busy Christmas season. This meant no malls, bars, concerts, or other high-traffic places. This would help me avoid getting infections, which are less likely to be faught off when immune cells are killed during chemotherapy. But, it definitely would not help my social life and would not be easy during the Christmas season when shopping has to get done. Because of this, I decided to spend my last weekend before chemo shopping for Christmas gifts. Mike and I had previously arranged to do a lot of our shopping in Halifax at the end of November, but this would no longer be possible. Thus, we decided to make this weekend extra special by taking our trip a little earlier. This way, I could get my shopping done and also let loose a little before taking the bull by the horns. So, in a matter of 1 day we make the quick decision to pack up and leave. (I need to thank Mike for cancelling his football tournament so that he could be with me during this important time.)
The weekend was good and I managed to forget about everything that was going on for a few days. I have learned that there are definite cures (at least short-term) for stress and life's crazy turns: living (keeping busy doing the things you love to do), loving (realizing how wonderful love is and making the most of it ... in my case Mike and my family come to mind), and laughing (laughter has a weird way of making you feel fuzzy inside ... friends are often a good route here).
In a way, this week has become a week to cherish everything I have in life and to live life to the fullest. Soon enough, life will take yet another crazy twist that I will have to deal with. For now, I am living life in the now and enjoying every minute of it. I will try my best to do the same no matter what life brings ... even during chemo.
A fork in the road ... which way should I go?
Soon after the appointment, I was met by Dr. MacCormick's nurse, who escorted me into a cozy room complete with couches to discuss a not-so-cozy topic: treatment. She went through the basics of 'AC,' the chemotherapy treatment I was to undergo. This, and everything from the moment when Dr. MacC recommended chemotherapy, seemed surreal. It was almost as though I was dreaming and was waiting to wake up. It was more than disbelief. It was not even being able to feel anything emotionally or to react to anything mentally. Everything the nurse said went into one ear and out the other. Could this really be happening?
After reviewing the medications they were assuming would soon be administered to me, the nurse took me to the 'chemo room' to show me where treatment takes place. I followed her into a large open-spaced room, where hospital beds and chairs lined the walls. In each hospital bed lied someone hooked up to an IV that pumped out chemotherapy drugs. Some of the people looked sick, while others looked rather normal. Most were bald and 'looked' like they had cancer. Beside each hospital bed there sat a chair and in most of these chairs sat a loved one: "This is where you will recieve your treatment. You're allowed one visitor in the room with you." Surrealism was still the case, however, I was able to conjur that the place didn't look as bad as i would have expected. It was quiet and had a friendly, cozy atmosphere. One thing I noticed was that some of the loved ones sat and read or sewed. They looked like they had been there for quite some time. I asked the nurse how long most people come in and she replied that it really depends--mine would be a small dose of an hour every three weeks for a couple of months, while some people had treatment anywhere from three hours to half a day (!) and anywhere from a couple times a week to once a day! My stomach sank as I tried to imagine what some of these people must be going through. I actually feel LUCKY when I consider how much worse I could have it.
The whole day was completely surreal. I went home and cried for a while as I tried to imagine what my life would be like on chemo. The once-imagined was becoming much more real-- sickness in every sense of the world, not being able to go out in public places for fear of infection, NO HAIR ... and all the things that could go wrong during treatment (i.e. death) or down the road (i.e. infertility). I've heard people in the past say that the treatment can sometimes be worse than the disease. The thought of that makes me cringe. It is completely true that right now I feel nothing but healthy. I don't feel or look like I have cancer. But if I am to take treatment this will all change.
I started suddenly realizing the extent of the lives we live--we are all human ... we don't have the answers for everything. NO ONE has the answers for everything. And there are still some major issues that we still know very little about. Cancer is one of them. And this was proven throughout this whole ordeal. These doctors know some things about cancer, but they do not know everything about it. I was coming to the realization that there was no known completely correct answer about my case. Dr. MacCormick, all the other doctors, and I are all only human and we are all dealing with one of those crazy things life throws at us. So ... now the decision-making is ultimately left up to myself. Although I was booked in for chemo beginning on November 17th, we were all under the understanding that I was still not 100% sure if I wanted to go through with it. I could back out at any time.
So now it was time for me to decide what avenue I wanted to take. This involved me weighing the options in my mind and on paper, considering all the things I had gathered from the doctors over the past number of weeks, researching AC and medical opinions about young women and chemotherapy, and talking to the people who meant most to me. The doctor did his job, now I had to do mine.
After reviewing the medications they were assuming would soon be administered to me, the nurse took me to the 'chemo room' to show me where treatment takes place. I followed her into a large open-spaced room, where hospital beds and chairs lined the walls. In each hospital bed lied someone hooked up to an IV that pumped out chemotherapy drugs. Some of the people looked sick, while others looked rather normal. Most were bald and 'looked' like they had cancer. Beside each hospital bed there sat a chair and in most of these chairs sat a loved one: "This is where you will recieve your treatment. You're allowed one visitor in the room with you." Surrealism was still the case, however, I was able to conjur that the place didn't look as bad as i would have expected. It was quiet and had a friendly, cozy atmosphere. One thing I noticed was that some of the loved ones sat and read or sewed. They looked like they had been there for quite some time. I asked the nurse how long most people come in and she replied that it really depends--mine would be a small dose of an hour every three weeks for a couple of months, while some people had treatment anywhere from three hours to half a day (!) and anywhere from a couple times a week to once a day! My stomach sank as I tried to imagine what some of these people must be going through. I actually feel LUCKY when I consider how much worse I could have it.
The whole day was completely surreal. I went home and cried for a while as I tried to imagine what my life would be like on chemo. The once-imagined was becoming much more real-- sickness in every sense of the world, not being able to go out in public places for fear of infection, NO HAIR ... and all the things that could go wrong during treatment (i.e. death) or down the road (i.e. infertility). I've heard people in the past say that the treatment can sometimes be worse than the disease. The thought of that makes me cringe. It is completely true that right now I feel nothing but healthy. I don't feel or look like I have cancer. But if I am to take treatment this will all change.
I started suddenly realizing the extent of the lives we live--we are all human ... we don't have the answers for everything. NO ONE has the answers for everything. And there are still some major issues that we still know very little about. Cancer is one of them. And this was proven throughout this whole ordeal. These doctors know some things about cancer, but they do not know everything about it. I was coming to the realization that there was no known completely correct answer about my case. Dr. MacCormick, all the other doctors, and I are all only human and we are all dealing with one of those crazy things life throws at us. So ... now the decision-making is ultimately left up to myself. Although I was booked in for chemo beginning on November 17th, we were all under the understanding that I was still not 100% sure if I wanted to go through with it. I could back out at any time.
So now it was time for me to decide what avenue I wanted to take. This involved me weighing the options in my mind and on paper, considering all the things I had gathered from the doctors over the past number of weeks, researching AC and medical opinions about young women and chemotherapy, and talking to the people who meant most to me. The doctor did his job, now I had to do mine.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Poison or no poison?
When Wednesday hit I was sick to my stomach. I had a bad feeling that wouldn't stop eating away at my mind. What would come of all this? Chemo or no chemo? Or should I say, poison or no poison? I would have to wait yet another day to find out.
Thursday morning soon arrived and I made my way to the hospital with the same crew as last time-- Mom and Mike. As soon as I arrived, I was asked to go to the bloodwork room for some bloodwork. Bloodwork? No one told me I needed bloodwork. I wonder why? I went into the room and sat patiently while someone drew 3 viles of blood from my arm. When this was finished, I went into the waiting room to meet Mom and Mike. I was surprised to see the room FULL of people-- at least a dozen or more people, all cancer patients and their loved ones. Wow, so many people have this disease. I looked around and tried to read their expressions. I finally knew what it was like to be in their shoes. But still ... I was the youngest person (by far) sitting in that room.
After another hour's wait, I was finally called to wait in an examining room for Dr. MacCormick. And, after yet another 30 minute wait, he finally arrived. As one of the least patient people I know, I never thought I could handle this much waiting.
Down to business: That is where I'd like to get and thats where the doctor got as soon as he entered the room: "Well Melanie, let's take a look at what I've got here after endless work this week." He then informed me that Dr. Pritchard hadn't yet got ahold of him with the results from the research panel, but he HAD spoke with more pathologists and cancer specialists in Halifax about my case. The third pathologist, who is specialized in breast cancer, agreed with the second report I got-- this cancer is grade 2. Not an overly agressive cancer, but with the ability to spread. This ability to spread was shown in its movement to the lymphatic space in the breast tissue. I'll explain:
The body is full of lymph channels or vessels that carry fluid to the lymph nodes and then beyond. The lymph vessels in the breast carry lymph fluid to the lymph nodes in the breast and under the arm. My cancer had begun to invade the lymph vessels, but hadn't yet made it to the lymph nodes under the arm. Click here for a diagram. Luckly, the breast was removed, and with it so were those lymph vessels. This then posed a concern not about the cancer spreading, but about the behaviour of the cancer. It told them that the cancer had the ability to spread beyond the breast.
Dr. MacCormick then went on to write on one of his little cards: "There are 2 things that concern me here, Melanie. The first thing is your age. The second thing is this lymphatic space invasion." He went on to explain that my prognosis was still good, but the grade 2 diagnosis with the lymphatic space invasion gave him a little added uneasiness. He said that he, the pathologists, and another specialist in Halifax came to the consensus that chemotherapy should be recommended. He stressed that I was in the 'grey area' here and that these were difficult decisions to make, but he thought it best to err on the side of caution.
This is exactly what I did not want. I did not want someone poisoning my body and ruining my otherwise perfect health just to be cautious. I wanted chemo only if it was necessary ... remember? This is when my questions began. And I came prepared ... surprised? Here are justa few of the questions I asked and the replies I got:
What chemotherapy drug is being recommended and what would the long and short term effects be? The 2 drugs were called Adriamycin and Cytoxin. This is a common combination of chemotherapy drugs, often known as "AC." He said that the most common short term effects I would experience would be hair loss, nausea, fatigue, infection, and sore mouth. The longer term effects were what he and I both were most concerned with. The first and most concerning long-term effect is leukemia. He mentioned that there is a 1 in 1000 chance of developing leukemia from chemotherapy. The second longterm effect is infertility. However, the particular dosage he is interested in giving me would only change my chances of having children from 95%- 85%. The final concern with meis osteoperosis, which mainly concerns him due to my thin body structure. He assured me that the dose I would get would be small, so there would be less of a risk for these longer term side effects for me.
What are the exact numbers for risk of recurence for no therapy, hormonal therapy alone, or a combination of chemo and hormonal therapy? He called a specialist for this answer. The results were: 25% risk with no therapy, 17% risk with just hormonal therapy, and 11-12% risk with hormonal and chemotherapies. He said that if I took the chemo and tamoxifen for 5 years, there would be a 90% chance that I would live my life without ever seeing breast cancer again.
Where, when, and how long would the drug be administered? The drug would be administered for one hour through intravenus every 3 weeks for 4 cycles (so approx. 9 weeks). This would occur in the cancer centre at the hospital in the 'chemo room.' The chemo room is large open room with a number of hospital beds, where cancer patients sit and get chemo. 1 visitor is allowed with each patient. My first chemo would begin next week if I would agree.
I told Dr. MacCormick that I would like to think about this more and decide whether I thought that a 5-6% added benefit was worth all the extra side effects and health risks. He told me that it would be best to book my first chemo and then just cancel if I decided not to go through with it. I agreed to this and he sent me out to see his nurse and arrange the first chemotherapy session.
Thursday morning soon arrived and I made my way to the hospital with the same crew as last time-- Mom and Mike. As soon as I arrived, I was asked to go to the bloodwork room for some bloodwork. Bloodwork? No one told me I needed bloodwork. I wonder why? I went into the room and sat patiently while someone drew 3 viles of blood from my arm. When this was finished, I went into the waiting room to meet Mom and Mike. I was surprised to see the room FULL of people-- at least a dozen or more people, all cancer patients and their loved ones. Wow, so many people have this disease. I looked around and tried to read their expressions. I finally knew what it was like to be in their shoes. But still ... I was the youngest person (by far) sitting in that room.
After another hour's wait, I was finally called to wait in an examining room for Dr. MacCormick. And, after yet another 30 minute wait, he finally arrived. As one of the least patient people I know, I never thought I could handle this much waiting.
Down to business: That is where I'd like to get and thats where the doctor got as soon as he entered the room: "Well Melanie, let's take a look at what I've got here after endless work this week." He then informed me that Dr. Pritchard hadn't yet got ahold of him with the results from the research panel, but he HAD spoke with more pathologists and cancer specialists in Halifax about my case. The third pathologist, who is specialized in breast cancer, agreed with the second report I got-- this cancer is grade 2. Not an overly agressive cancer, but with the ability to spread. This ability to spread was shown in its movement to the lymphatic space in the breast tissue. I'll explain:
The body is full of lymph channels or vessels that carry fluid to the lymph nodes and then beyond. The lymph vessels in the breast carry lymph fluid to the lymph nodes in the breast and under the arm. My cancer had begun to invade the lymph vessels, but hadn't yet made it to the lymph nodes under the arm. Click here for a diagram. Luckly, the breast was removed, and with it so were those lymph vessels. This then posed a concern not about the cancer spreading, but about the behaviour of the cancer. It told them that the cancer had the ability to spread beyond the breast.
Dr. MacCormick then went on to write on one of his little cards: "There are 2 things that concern me here, Melanie. The first thing is your age. The second thing is this lymphatic space invasion." He went on to explain that my prognosis was still good, but the grade 2 diagnosis with the lymphatic space invasion gave him a little added uneasiness. He said that he, the pathologists, and another specialist in Halifax came to the consensus that chemotherapy should be recommended. He stressed that I was in the 'grey area' here and that these were difficult decisions to make, but he thought it best to err on the side of caution.
This is exactly what I did not want. I did not want someone poisoning my body and ruining my otherwise perfect health just to be cautious. I wanted chemo only if it was necessary ... remember? This is when my questions began. And I came prepared ... surprised? Here are justa few of the questions I asked and the replies I got:
What chemotherapy drug is being recommended and what would the long and short term effects be? The 2 drugs were called Adriamycin and Cytoxin. This is a common combination of chemotherapy drugs, often known as "AC." He said that the most common short term effects I would experience would be hair loss, nausea, fatigue, infection, and sore mouth. The longer term effects were what he and I both were most concerned with. The first and most concerning long-term effect is leukemia. He mentioned that there is a 1 in 1000 chance of developing leukemia from chemotherapy. The second longterm effect is infertility. However, the particular dosage he is interested in giving me would only change my chances of having children from 95%- 85%. The final concern with meis osteoperosis, which mainly concerns him due to my thin body structure. He assured me that the dose I would get would be small, so there would be less of a risk for these longer term side effects for me.
What are the exact numbers for risk of recurence for no therapy, hormonal therapy alone, or a combination of chemo and hormonal therapy? He called a specialist for this answer. The results were: 25% risk with no therapy, 17% risk with just hormonal therapy, and 11-12% risk with hormonal and chemotherapies. He said that if I took the chemo and tamoxifen for 5 years, there would be a 90% chance that I would live my life without ever seeing breast cancer again.
Where, when, and how long would the drug be administered? The drug would be administered for one hour through intravenus every 3 weeks for 4 cycles (so approx. 9 weeks). This would occur in the cancer centre at the hospital in the 'chemo room.' The chemo room is large open room with a number of hospital beds, where cancer patients sit and get chemo. 1 visitor is allowed with each patient. My first chemo would begin next week if I would agree.
I told Dr. MacCormick that I would like to think about this more and decide whether I thought that a 5-6% added benefit was worth all the extra side effects and health risks. He told me that it would be best to book my first chemo and then just cancel if I decided not to go through with it. I agreed to this and he sent me out to see his nurse and arrange the first chemotherapy session.
Mumbo Jumbo
I know a lot of you are awaiting the news from yesterday's appointment ... I apologize for the delay, but my computer got a nasty Trojan virus which remains to be fixed.
Back to the storytelling for now...
Monday I had my follow-up appointment with Dr. Butler. I was much less nervous going in to meet with him than I was during previous visits ... this time there was no terrible news he could break to me. He checked my scars and said that they were healing well and everything was going as planned. His next major concern was the right breast, which had been recieveing much less attention than the left one over the past few months. Dr. Butler expressed his concern with the second breast since Day 1, and now it was time for him to start suggesting things about it. He told me he thought it best for me to be tested to make sure that there was no pre-cancer (abnormal cells or non-invasive cancer) brewing within it. In order to do this, Dr. Butler suggested having an MRI done, since mammography is not guranteed to work on my young, dense breasts. Great ... more appointments. I immediately dreaded having this procedure done. First of all, it would require me to lay for an extended period of time in that small, closed in space ... remember, I am a tad chlaustrophobic. And second, I had read things about people getting breast MRIs and having metal 'hooks'placed in their breast so the machine would pick it up. Not looking forward to this. Dr. Butler said he would have the hospital call me with an appointment over the next few days.
Next, he suggested my being tested for the breast cancer genes BRCA 1&2. People with these genes, have a higher risk of developing breast cancer and have a risk of passing this gene on to their children. Dr. Butler suggested that if I was positive for this gene, it may be wise to remove the second breast to prevent a second cancer from forming down the road, since the BR genes significantly increase that risk. The bad news is that the results of this test can take up to a year to come back. The doctors right now are assuming that I am at low risk for having this gene, since no one else in my family has or has had breast cancer. But we err on the side of caution with things as such.
Finally, we discussed reconstructive surgery. Dr. Butler suggested taking my time with this, although he mentioned that I could have it done whenever I feel comfortable, whether 6 months, 8 months, or a year down the road. He said he would refer me to a local plastic surgeon so I could discuss this surgery further with him.
With that, I was sent on my way with more things to think about and consider. But the biggest thing on my mind was Thursday's appointment, which was making me progressively more scared as the days went by.
Back to the storytelling for now...
Monday I had my follow-up appointment with Dr. Butler. I was much less nervous going in to meet with him than I was during previous visits ... this time there was no terrible news he could break to me. He checked my scars and said that they were healing well and everything was going as planned. His next major concern was the right breast, which had been recieveing much less attention than the left one over the past few months. Dr. Butler expressed his concern with the second breast since Day 1, and now it was time for him to start suggesting things about it. He told me he thought it best for me to be tested to make sure that there was no pre-cancer (abnormal cells or non-invasive cancer) brewing within it. In order to do this, Dr. Butler suggested having an MRI done, since mammography is not guranteed to work on my young, dense breasts. Great ... more appointments. I immediately dreaded having this procedure done. First of all, it would require me to lay for an extended period of time in that small, closed in space ... remember, I am a tad chlaustrophobic. And second, I had read things about people getting breast MRIs and having metal 'hooks'placed in their breast so the machine would pick it up. Not looking forward to this. Dr. Butler said he would have the hospital call me with an appointment over the next few days.
Next, he suggested my being tested for the breast cancer genes BRCA 1&2. People with these genes, have a higher risk of developing breast cancer and have a risk of passing this gene on to their children. Dr. Butler suggested that if I was positive for this gene, it may be wise to remove the second breast to prevent a second cancer from forming down the road, since the BR genes significantly increase that risk. The bad news is that the results of this test can take up to a year to come back. The doctors right now are assuming that I am at low risk for having this gene, since no one else in my family has or has had breast cancer. But we err on the side of caution with things as such.
Finally, we discussed reconstructive surgery. Dr. Butler suggested taking my time with this, although he mentioned that I could have it done whenever I feel comfortable, whether 6 months, 8 months, or a year down the road. He said he would refer me to a local plastic surgeon so I could discuss this surgery further with him.
With that, I was sent on my way with more things to think about and consider. But the biggest thing on my mind was Thursday's appointment, which was making me progressively more scared as the days went by.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
"Here" and there ...
As I've been mentioning throughout my posts, cancer in younger adults (i.e. 35 and under) is less common, but is presenting itself more and more as time goes by. Since I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I have been approached by numerous young people who have also been diagnosed with breast and other cancers over the past few years. This is becoming an issue, so we need to do what we can to nip it in the bud.
I think its great that young people like myself offer up their stories to other young people who are experiencing a diagnosis with cancer or even another disease. Such a diagnosis at such a tender age can be an extremely difficult thing to handle. And, although it is nice to be approached by older women who have or have had a diagnosis, we also need to hear from people our own age who have gone through similar experiences. It can feel very lonely going through something like this as such a young age and can often seem like we're the only ones.
It was great for me to hear from Kim Reid, a highschool buddy, a couple days after arriving home from the hospital in September. Kim is the same age as me (a day in age difference) and was also diagnosed with breast cancer almost exactly a year earlier than me, at age 24. Kim had been through very similar experiences as me and had also gone through the gruelling chemotherapy and radiation battle. She showed up at my doorstep one afternoon and we chatted for hours about our situations. I have to say that it felt amazing to have someone my own age who knew what it was like to be going through what I was going through.
Kim has recently done an interview with Here Magazine in Fredericton, New Brunswick, about her journey with breast cancer. She has agreed to allow me to post the address to an online version of the article for you to read. Kim will also be appearing on Much Music's "Music is My Life" series at the end of November. This will be a half hour show on Kim's battle with breast cancer and how music helped her through her treatments. It is mainly filmed in Glace Bay, Nova Scotia, where we both currently live. So check out the Here article and the Music is My Life Episode if you are interested in hearing other young people's stories about battling cancer.
Here Magazine: "Finding the Strength to Fight"
Much Music: Music is My Life (Kim will be appearing on Nov. 26, 2006)
If you have a story or a blog that you'd like me to link on this website, I'd be more than happy! Just let me know by leaving a comment on this post or by sending me an email!
I think its great that young people like myself offer up their stories to other young people who are experiencing a diagnosis with cancer or even another disease. Such a diagnosis at such a tender age can be an extremely difficult thing to handle. And, although it is nice to be approached by older women who have or have had a diagnosis, we also need to hear from people our own age who have gone through similar experiences. It can feel very lonely going through something like this as such a young age and can often seem like we're the only ones.
It was great for me to hear from Kim Reid, a highschool buddy, a couple days after arriving home from the hospital in September. Kim is the same age as me (a day in age difference) and was also diagnosed with breast cancer almost exactly a year earlier than me, at age 24. Kim had been through very similar experiences as me and had also gone through the gruelling chemotherapy and radiation battle. She showed up at my doorstep one afternoon and we chatted for hours about our situations. I have to say that it felt amazing to have someone my own age who knew what it was like to be going through what I was going through.
Kim has recently done an interview with Here Magazine in Fredericton, New Brunswick, about her journey with breast cancer. She has agreed to allow me to post the address to an online version of the article for you to read. Kim will also be appearing on Much Music's "Music is My Life" series at the end of November. This will be a half hour show on Kim's battle with breast cancer and how music helped her through her treatments. It is mainly filmed in Glace Bay, Nova Scotia, where we both currently live. So check out the Here article and the Music is My Life Episode if you are interested in hearing other young people's stories about battling cancer.
Here Magazine: "Finding the Strength to Fight"
Much Music: Music is My Life (Kim will be appearing on Nov. 26, 2006)
If you have a story or a blog that you'd like me to link on this website, I'd be more than happy! Just let me know by leaving a comment on this post or by sending me an email!
Monday, November 06, 2006
Eat, drink, and be scary!
On becoming a guinea pig
I spent the remainder of that week doing whatever I could NOT to think about my next appointment with Dr. MacCormick. Essentially, I was avoiding getting worked up about something which I had completely no control over. Mike and I had a blast celebrating Halloween over the weekend, and I managed to keep a full schedule the remainder of the time.
The following Wednesday soon arrived, however, and no phonecall was recieved. Dr. MacCormick had said that someone would be calling me with an appointment within the next week so that we could discuss the recommendations of Dr. Pritchard. A week has passed ... I wonder what's going on? I couldn't wait any longer. I phoned the cancer centre that afternoon and explained the situation. The secretary said she would talk to Dr. MacC's nurse and have her phone me back.
Less than an hour passed, when I received a phonecall. Expecting the nurse, I was surprised to hear Dr. MacCormick's voice on the other end: "I'm sorry we haven't phoned you yet, but you've turned out to be quite confusing to us!" He went on to explain that he spoke with Dr. Pritchard in Toronto, who said that if my cancer was indeed Grade 1 she would also suggest Tamoxifen and possibly Zoladex (another anti-estrogen drug) for 5 years. She was stumped if it was grade 2. Dr. Mac Cormick asked her: "If this were your patient, everything aside, what would you do?" Her reply was ... get this ... "I don't know."
If this is not enough to convince you that more research has to be done on younger cancer patients, I don't know what will. The doctor explained once again that if I was 40 years old, whether grade one or grade two, they would be fine with recommending Tamoxifen for 5 years. However, it is AGAIN my AGE that is stumping them. He kept saying that I have a lot more "potential years" left to live, which is why they are more concerned. The whole "potential years" thing has been wracking my brain ever since he said it. (I'm not sure exactly what he means by this, but I'm looking forward to asking him next time I meet with him!)
Following her reply of "I don't know," Dr. Pritchard asked permission to present my case at a national cancer research conference which she would be attending that week. Dr. MacCormick asked if this was okay with me, and I, of course, replied that it was. I am now becoming a guinea pig-- a newer case of less-aggressive early cancer in a young pre-menopausal woman. He told me that he would wait another week for Dr.Pritchard to come back with whatever input she recieved from the numerous specialists nation-wide that had heard my case at the conference. Hopefully, they could brainstorm and get multiple opinions to come up with a satisfactory plan for me. In addition, Dr. Mac C informed me that he had also sent my specimins on to some more pathologists to get more opinions on the grade of the tumor ... grade 1 or grade 2? If it comes back as grade 1 from these additional pathologists, then I will likely (99%) be staying on Tamoxifen for 5 years ... and nothing else. If it comes back as Grade 2, this is where Dr. Pritchard's work will come in.
This brings us up to date!!! My appointment with Dr. MacCormick is scheduled for this coming Thursday, November 9th. At this appointment, I will hopefully have the 3rd pathologist's opinion on the grade of the cancer, and will know more about Dr. Pritchard's findings.
All I can do now is hope, wish, and pray that the tumor is grade 1 and that chemotherapy is not required ... soon we'll see ...
The following Wednesday soon arrived, however, and no phonecall was recieved. Dr. MacCormick had said that someone would be calling me with an appointment within the next week so that we could discuss the recommendations of Dr. Pritchard. A week has passed ... I wonder what's going on? I couldn't wait any longer. I phoned the cancer centre that afternoon and explained the situation. The secretary said she would talk to Dr. MacC's nurse and have her phone me back.
Less than an hour passed, when I received a phonecall. Expecting the nurse, I was surprised to hear Dr. MacCormick's voice on the other end: "I'm sorry we haven't phoned you yet, but you've turned out to be quite confusing to us!" He went on to explain that he spoke with Dr. Pritchard in Toronto, who said that if my cancer was indeed Grade 1 she would also suggest Tamoxifen and possibly Zoladex (another anti-estrogen drug) for 5 years. She was stumped if it was grade 2. Dr. Mac Cormick asked her: "If this were your patient, everything aside, what would you do?" Her reply was ... get this ... "I don't know."
If this is not enough to convince you that more research has to be done on younger cancer patients, I don't know what will. The doctor explained once again that if I was 40 years old, whether grade one or grade two, they would be fine with recommending Tamoxifen for 5 years. However, it is AGAIN my AGE that is stumping them. He kept saying that I have a lot more "potential years" left to live, which is why they are more concerned. The whole "potential years" thing has been wracking my brain ever since he said it. (I'm not sure exactly what he means by this, but I'm looking forward to asking him next time I meet with him!)
Following her reply of "I don't know," Dr. Pritchard asked permission to present my case at a national cancer research conference which she would be attending that week. Dr. MacCormick asked if this was okay with me, and I, of course, replied that it was. I am now becoming a guinea pig-- a newer case of less-aggressive early cancer in a young pre-menopausal woman. He told me that he would wait another week for Dr.Pritchard to come back with whatever input she recieved from the numerous specialists nation-wide that had heard my case at the conference. Hopefully, they could brainstorm and get multiple opinions to come up with a satisfactory plan for me. In addition, Dr. Mac C informed me that he had also sent my specimins on to some more pathologists to get more opinions on the grade of the tumor ... grade 1 or grade 2? If it comes back as grade 1 from these additional pathologists, then I will likely (99%) be staying on Tamoxifen for 5 years ... and nothing else. If it comes back as Grade 2, this is where Dr. Pritchard's work will come in.
This brings us up to date!!! My appointment with Dr. MacCormick is scheduled for this coming Thursday, November 9th. At this appointment, I will hopefully have the 3rd pathologist's opinion on the grade of the cancer, and will know more about Dr. Pritchard's findings.
All I can do now is hope, wish, and pray that the tumor is grade 1 and that chemotherapy is not required ... soon we'll see ...
Joining hands
The perscription for my Tamoxifen was called into the drugstore on Wednesday, immediately following my appointment. I couldn't bring myself to get it. I'll start it tomorrow. Tomorrow came, and I still didn't pick it up. It felt as though beginning Tamoxifen was beginning a new chapter of my experience, and it was a big step for me to take. I worried about the side effects, even though the potentially immediate ones were not all that bad. I dreaded having hot flashes, being nauseated, or experiencing any other unwarranted side effects from the drug. I had tried to stay away from pills my entire life to avoid playing with my body's natural functions, but this time it was necessary. I just had to take the step.
After reading everything I could about the drug, I finally went and picked it up later Thursday evening. The pharmacist informed me that it was to be taken twice a day, preferably with food or at bedtime to avoid nausea. It had to be taken at the same time everyday, so I had to choose the times and stick with them. Since I would likely be taking the pill for the next 5 years of my life, I wanted to pick a time that would be convenient and suitable to my lifestyle, would hide nausea, and when I would be least likely to forget them. I decided to take them at approx. 12 noon and 12 midnight each day.
So, Friday at noon I joined hands with my new friend, Tamoxifen. I swallowed all 10mgs up with my lunch. Here goes nothing. When I finally took the first one, each pill following became a little easier.
After reading everything I could about the drug, I finally went and picked it up later Thursday evening. The pharmacist informed me that it was to be taken twice a day, preferably with food or at bedtime to avoid nausea. It had to be taken at the same time everyday, so I had to choose the times and stick with them. Since I would likely be taking the pill for the next 5 years of my life, I wanted to pick a time that would be convenient and suitable to my lifestyle, would hide nausea, and when I would be least likely to forget them. I decided to take them at approx. 12 noon and 12 midnight each day.
So, Friday at noon I joined hands with my new friend, Tamoxifen. I swallowed all 10mgs up with my lunch. Here goes nothing. When I finally took the first one, each pill following became a little easier.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Everyone, please meet my new friend "Tamoxifen"
I left Dr. MacCormick's office with that feeling of uncertainty that I have become accustomed to through all of this. Once again, I had no idea where fate would lead me and found myself wondering what Dr. Pritchard would say. I thought that if she suggested chemotherapy, I would definitely want to call and scream in her ear for an hour or two. But, then I realized that if she suggested chemo there would probably be a good reason, and if it could save my life I would take it. It just killed me to think that with so little chances of this cancer recurring, the doctors may still suggest chemo. It killed me to know that the same situation in a 40 year old woman would mean no chemo. Does my age really make any difference? I by no means want to play with fire here -- chemotherapy is a poision and can cause detrimental short- and long-term health effects. If this will not benefit me well as far as risk of recurrence goes, I do not want to take it. However, if the benefits outweighed these risks, there would be no doubts in my mind. I just really hoped that the doctors would consider my health outside the cancer and be sure that if chemo would be a recommendation, it would be a crucial one.
I thought back to the appointment, and realized that all my preparations paid off. I understood just about everything the doctor spoke to me about and was able to ask many educated questions to get the most out of the appointment. So, I would continue on this path. The next thing I wanted to learn was WHO exactly Dr. Pritchard is (???). It would be nice to know something about this renowned breast cancer doctor who is playing a large part in the decision-making process for my case. I found that she is quite highly respected in the cancer research community, does a great deal of clinical trial research, and has been a 'first' to discover quite a few things having to do with treatment for breast cancer. If you'd like to know more about her click here. At least I would have someone who is recognized and dependable giving her opinions.
Second, I decided to do some further research on Tamoxifen, since this was the drug which Dr. MacCormick prescribed to me. I was to assume, at this point, that I would be taking Tamoxifen for 5 years and no chemo and was, therefore, to start the Tamoxifen immediately. If a change in decision occured, then this drug may simply be given in combination with something else, or it would be halted and administered at a later date (i.e. following chemo).
Turns out that Tamoxifen is one of the oldest and most widely used hormonal treatments for breast cancer. Tamoxifen is administered for women whose cancer cells have estrogen receptors, which mine did. Basically, Tamoxifen is a drug that mimicks estrogen. Thus, it travels through the body and binds to cells with estrogen receptors so that natural estrogen can no longer get at them. This, in turn, slows or stops the growth of the cancer cells that are fed by estrogen.
The side effects of Tamoxifen are much less severe than most cancer treatments. The major side-effects are similar to those of menopause due to a lowered amount of estrogen working in the body. Some of these symptoms include: hot flashes, nausea, weight gain, and lighter periods. Some of the more serious and less common side effects include: blood clots and uterine cancer (I know, I know). I spoke to Dr. MacC about this and he informed me that the benefits of Tamoxifen far outweigh the risks. If the breast cancer was to recur, it could be potentially lethal, whereas a new uterine cancer can be removed and treated. In other words, it would be better to get uterine cancer than a second breast cancer, and the chances of getting uterine cancer are low. A final side effect worth mentioning is fertility. Tamoxifen has been used to increase fertility, so it increases the risk of getting pregnant. This poses 2 problems: 1) I can never take the birth control pill again (because it contains estrogen and progesterone, which can cause breast cancer); 2) Tamoxifen can be harmful to an unborn child, so if I were to get pregnant on Tamoxifen, I would then have to be taken off the drug. But again, these side-effects are much more desirable than any side-effects chemotherapy would yield.
Many studies I read also showed that hormone-therapy (i.e. Tamoxifen) alone may be just as effective as chemotherapy and hormone-therapy together in low-risk women with hormone receptor positive breast cancer (i.e.: ME!). Dr. Mac Cormick suggested the same thing, saying that the Tamoxifen would decrease the risk of the disease coming back from 20% to approximately 12% or lower. Chemotherapy would only change these numbers by about 1%. However, this was BEFORE the second pathology report that stated the cancer was grade 2.
Also, the studies are usually largely based on women who are older than me (again, suggesting the need for more research in younger women!)
Complicated, isn't it?
For more info. on Tamoxifen, visit the following sites:
http://www.breastcancer.org/tre_sys_tamox_idx.html
Cancer Backup
I thought back to the appointment, and realized that all my preparations paid off. I understood just about everything the doctor spoke to me about and was able to ask many educated questions to get the most out of the appointment. So, I would continue on this path. The next thing I wanted to learn was WHO exactly Dr. Pritchard is (???). It would be nice to know something about this renowned breast cancer doctor who is playing a large part in the decision-making process for my case. I found that she is quite highly respected in the cancer research community, does a great deal of clinical trial research, and has been a 'first' to discover quite a few things having to do with treatment for breast cancer. If you'd like to know more about her click here. At least I would have someone who is recognized and dependable giving her opinions.
Second, I decided to do some further research on Tamoxifen, since this was the drug which Dr. MacCormick prescribed to me. I was to assume, at this point, that I would be taking Tamoxifen for 5 years and no chemo and was, therefore, to start the Tamoxifen immediately. If a change in decision occured, then this drug may simply be given in combination with something else, or it would be halted and administered at a later date (i.e. following chemo).
Turns out that Tamoxifen is one of the oldest and most widely used hormonal treatments for breast cancer. Tamoxifen is administered for women whose cancer cells have estrogen receptors, which mine did. Basically, Tamoxifen is a drug that mimicks estrogen. Thus, it travels through the body and binds to cells with estrogen receptors so that natural estrogen can no longer get at them. This, in turn, slows or stops the growth of the cancer cells that are fed by estrogen.
The side effects of Tamoxifen are much less severe than most cancer treatments. The major side-effects are similar to those of menopause due to a lowered amount of estrogen working in the body. Some of these symptoms include: hot flashes, nausea, weight gain, and lighter periods. Some of the more serious and less common side effects include: blood clots and uterine cancer (I know, I know). I spoke to Dr. MacC about this and he informed me that the benefits of Tamoxifen far outweigh the risks. If the breast cancer was to recur, it could be potentially lethal, whereas a new uterine cancer can be removed and treated. In other words, it would be better to get uterine cancer than a second breast cancer, and the chances of getting uterine cancer are low. A final side effect worth mentioning is fertility. Tamoxifen has been used to increase fertility, so it increases the risk of getting pregnant. This poses 2 problems: 1) I can never take the birth control pill again (because it contains estrogen and progesterone, which can cause breast cancer); 2) Tamoxifen can be harmful to an unborn child, so if I were to get pregnant on Tamoxifen, I would then have to be taken off the drug. But again, these side-effects are much more desirable than any side-effects chemotherapy would yield.
Many studies I read also showed that hormone-therapy (i.e. Tamoxifen) alone may be just as effective as chemotherapy and hormone-therapy together in low-risk women with hormone receptor positive breast cancer (i.e.: ME!). Dr. Mac Cormick suggested the same thing, saying that the Tamoxifen would decrease the risk of the disease coming back from 20% to approximately 12% or lower. Chemotherapy would only change these numbers by about 1%. However, this was BEFORE the second pathology report that stated the cancer was grade 2.
Also, the studies are usually largely based on women who are older than me (again, suggesting the need for more research in younger women!)
Complicated, isn't it?
For more info. on Tamoxifen, visit the following sites:
http://www.breastcancer.org/tre_sys_tamox_idx.html
Cancer Backup
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Hello???
Are you in there???? .... check out the Guestbook Link at the bottom of the page! If you're reading, sign it! Thx everyone :-)
Friday, November 03, 2006
Things just aren't that easy
Dr. MacCormick wanted to be as cautious as possible with my case, which I am thankful for. He told me that if I was 40 years old he would be patting me on the back and sending me on my way, but where I am so young it causes some nervousness. He said this is because I have so many years left to live and also because it is less common for people my age do develop breast cancer, so it then makes them wonder why. I think a lot of this unrest is due to the lack of research done on younger people with cancer. I really think it is important to start pushing for more research in this area because I am becoming living proof that it is needed. We need to start learning the risk factors in young people, the behaviours of these cancers, and how best to treat young adults who are diagnosed with cancer. We also need to start coming up with ways to address issues that young people in particular with cancer face--namely, infertility caused from chemotherapy.
Because Dr. MacCormick was respectable enough to admit this, he called a colleague of his in Halifax to ask his opinion of my case. He explained everything about me and said: "If this were your patient, what would you do?" The second oncologist replied that he would prescribe Tamoxifen (hormone therapy) for 5 years and nothing else. Thus, Dr. MacC.'s decision was confirmed. I again became excited at this wonderful news.
Here is the turning point: Just as Dr. MacCormick was about to talk to me about Tamoxifen, a nurse came in at this very convenient time with a piece of paper. It almost seemed staged. The second piece of paper turned out to be a pathology report done by a second pathologist in Halifax, N.S. Did I mention that Dr. MacC is thorough and likes second opinions? Before I came in he sent for a second opinion of the pathology to be sure that everything was as it appeared. But ... it wasn't!!!!!!!!
The second pathologist saw my tumor as a Grade 2 tumor, rather than Grade 1, as the first pathologist had suggested. This meant that in her opinion, the cancer was stuck somewhere between slowly growing and not aggressive, and quickly growing and aggressive-- a "moderately differentiated" cancer.
Just my luck. This is like dangling candy in front of a child's face and then telling her she can't have it. Dr. Mac Cormick looked puzzled for a moment, but quickly composed himself: "If you were fourty, even with a grade 2 cancer with the reports I just reviewed, I would send you on your way with Tamoxifen. But, again ... your age plays a factor here. We want to be as a sure as possible here. Really, Melanie, I am not about to put you on chemotherapy and risk your heart and bone health and all the other major risks of this drug unless it will benefit you significantly." He continued: "For now, I would like to stay with my original decision and prescribe you Tamoxifen for 5 years. In the meantime, I will contact a lady named Kathleen Pritchard in Toronto who is known to be one of the world's leading breast cancer oncologists. I will ask her opinion of your case. If she believes that with a grade 2 tumor you should have chemotherapy, then I just may recommend that option to you."
He then called and left a detailed message on Dr. Pritchard's voicemail (which he allowed me to hear), went into the details of Tamoxifen with me (which I'll explain later), and directed me to meet with the nurse after the appointment for the chest xray, blood work, and pregnancy test (because Tamoxifen is harmful to unborn babies).
"Apprehension, uncertainty, waiting, expectation, fear of surprise, do a patient more harm than any exertion." --Florence Nightengale
Because Dr. MacCormick was respectable enough to admit this, he called a colleague of his in Halifax to ask his opinion of my case. He explained everything about me and said: "If this were your patient, what would you do?" The second oncologist replied that he would prescribe Tamoxifen (hormone therapy) for 5 years and nothing else. Thus, Dr. MacC.'s decision was confirmed. I again became excited at this wonderful news.
Here is the turning point: Just as Dr. MacCormick was about to talk to me about Tamoxifen, a nurse came in at this very convenient time with a piece of paper. It almost seemed staged. The second piece of paper turned out to be a pathology report done by a second pathologist in Halifax, N.S. Did I mention that Dr. MacC is thorough and likes second opinions? Before I came in he sent for a second opinion of the pathology to be sure that everything was as it appeared. But ... it wasn't!!!!!!!!
The second pathologist saw my tumor as a Grade 2 tumor, rather than Grade 1, as the first pathologist had suggested. This meant that in her opinion, the cancer was stuck somewhere between slowly growing and not aggressive, and quickly growing and aggressive-- a "moderately differentiated" cancer.
Just my luck. This is like dangling candy in front of a child's face and then telling her she can't have it. Dr. Mac Cormick looked puzzled for a moment, but quickly composed himself: "If you were fourty, even with a grade 2 cancer with the reports I just reviewed, I would send you on your way with Tamoxifen. But, again ... your age plays a factor here. We want to be as a sure as possible here. Really, Melanie, I am not about to put you on chemotherapy and risk your heart and bone health and all the other major risks of this drug unless it will benefit you significantly." He continued: "For now, I would like to stay with my original decision and prescribe you Tamoxifen for 5 years. In the meantime, I will contact a lady named Kathleen Pritchard in Toronto who is known to be one of the world's leading breast cancer oncologists. I will ask her opinion of your case. If she believes that with a grade 2 tumor you should have chemotherapy, then I just may recommend that option to you."
He then called and left a detailed message on Dr. Pritchard's voicemail (which he allowed me to hear), went into the details of Tamoxifen with me (which I'll explain later), and directed me to meet with the nurse after the appointment for the chest xray, blood work, and pregnancy test (because Tamoxifen is harmful to unborn babies).
"Apprehension, uncertainty, waiting, expectation, fear of surprise, do a patient more harm than any exertion." --Florence Nightengale
A beautiful giftbox with a shiny silver bow
When he finished with all the preliminaries and reviewed all the reports in my file, he explained that in order to decide on a suitable treatment plan there were two major things we needed to do: 1) A "Metastatic Workup" - this looks at all the tests I had on other areas of the body to find out whether the cancer has spread; and 2) Come up with a "Risk of Recurrence" (risk of the disease coming back) based on the pathology reports and my overall health.
Because Dr. MacCormick is very thorough he drew all this out on little cards for me, which he had about 30 of in his pocket (like little recipe cards). He was very organized and made sure I was clear about everything. We first did the Metastatic Workup. He wrote the following on the card:
"Metastatic Workup"
1) Chest Xray- today
2) Liver Ultrasound- normal
3) Bone Scan- normal
4) Blood Test (tumor markers)- today
He told me he would do the xray and blood test immediately following our appointment, but he didn't suspect anything based on the various other tests I had done.
Next, we came up with a risk of recurrence. In order to do this, we needed to review 6 things and then, based on these 6 things, the doctor would use a mathematical model to formulate the risk of the disease coming back. Here are the 6 things we reviewed:
1) Size of tumor: It was mostly 1 cm but 1.3 cms at its largest side. Anything under 1 cm poses no risk of recurrence, but where mine was .3cms over this limit, it posed a little one: 1/2 risk
2) Lymph node involvement: 0 of 12 lymph nodes were involoved, so this gave me 0 risk.
3) Surgical Margins: In other words, were they sure they removed everything during surgery? In my case they were sure because I had a mastectomy, so they were able to examine all the tissue in the removed breast to see whether there was any lingering cancer in the surrounding tissues of the tumor. So this gave me 0 risk.
4) Hormone Receptors: If the tumor is Estrogen (ER) and/or Progesteron (PR) positive, it poses less of a risk. These can be controlled through hormone therapy. My tumor was ER and PR positive (70%), so this gave me 0 risk.
5) Her-2 neu: This tells whether a gene on the tumor was overexpressed and poses a higher risk of recurrence (i.e. those who are her-2 positive have a greater risk of the cancer coming back). Mine was negative for Her-2 neu, so this posed 0 risk.
6) Grade: This tells how aggressive the tumor is (see previous posts). Mine was grade 1, which means it is a slowly growing, less aggressive cancer. So, this posed 0 risk.
I cannot begin to describe the wave of relief that came over my body as the doctor reviewed these details. I felt a weight that seemed 1000lbs lifted from my body and a smile overcame my face. Dr. MacCormick looked up at me from the papers his face was buried in. He said:
"Melanie, looking at these reports and your otherwise perfect health, I really think that the risk of this disease coming back is VERY low. For this reason, at this time I cannot recommend chemotherapy. I think the best route for you would be five years of Tamoxifen (hormone therapy) and nothing else."
I was SHOCKED. I could not believe what I was hearing. I felt that all this was surreal and that I was dreaming. I almost thought that an outcome as such was impossible. My grandmother was right afterall. I looked at my mom and Mike, my smile growing even larger, and I could see the look of relief and excitement in their faces. Suddenly, hope was restored. All the things I thought could be jeopardized seemed to be given back to me in a beautiful giftbox with a shiny silver bow: fertility, my natural hair, good health, red and white blood cells (yay!) ... and so on.
However, you must keep reading because NOTHING happens this easily (especially in the world of Melanie Roach) ... some bumps quickly appeared.
Because Dr. MacCormick is very thorough he drew all this out on little cards for me, which he had about 30 of in his pocket (like little recipe cards). He was very organized and made sure I was clear about everything. We first did the Metastatic Workup. He wrote the following on the card:
"Metastatic Workup"
1) Chest Xray- today
2) Liver Ultrasound- normal
3) Bone Scan- normal
4) Blood Test (tumor markers)- today
He told me he would do the xray and blood test immediately following our appointment, but he didn't suspect anything based on the various other tests I had done.
Next, we came up with a risk of recurrence. In order to do this, we needed to review 6 things and then, based on these 6 things, the doctor would use a mathematical model to formulate the risk of the disease coming back. Here are the 6 things we reviewed:
1) Size of tumor: It was mostly 1 cm but 1.3 cms at its largest side. Anything under 1 cm poses no risk of recurrence, but where mine was .3cms over this limit, it posed a little one: 1/2 risk
2) Lymph node involvement: 0 of 12 lymph nodes were involoved, so this gave me 0 risk.
3) Surgical Margins: In other words, were they sure they removed everything during surgery? In my case they were sure because I had a mastectomy, so they were able to examine all the tissue in the removed breast to see whether there was any lingering cancer in the surrounding tissues of the tumor. So this gave me 0 risk.
4) Hormone Receptors: If the tumor is Estrogen (ER) and/or Progesteron (PR) positive, it poses less of a risk. These can be controlled through hormone therapy. My tumor was ER and PR positive (70%), so this gave me 0 risk.
5) Her-2 neu: This tells whether a gene on the tumor was overexpressed and poses a higher risk of recurrence (i.e. those who are her-2 positive have a greater risk of the cancer coming back). Mine was negative for Her-2 neu, so this posed 0 risk.
6) Grade: This tells how aggressive the tumor is (see previous posts). Mine was grade 1, which means it is a slowly growing, less aggressive cancer. So, this posed 0 risk.
I cannot begin to describe the wave of relief that came over my body as the doctor reviewed these details. I felt a weight that seemed 1000lbs lifted from my body and a smile overcame my face. Dr. MacCormick looked up at me from the papers his face was buried in. He said:
"Melanie, looking at these reports and your otherwise perfect health, I really think that the risk of this disease coming back is VERY low. For this reason, at this time I cannot recommend chemotherapy. I think the best route for you would be five years of Tamoxifen (hormone therapy) and nothing else."
I was SHOCKED. I could not believe what I was hearing. I felt that all this was surreal and that I was dreaming. I almost thought that an outcome as such was impossible. My grandmother was right afterall. I looked at my mom and Mike, my smile growing even larger, and I could see the look of relief and excitement in their faces. Suddenly, hope was restored. All the things I thought could be jeopardized seemed to be given back to me in a beautiful giftbox with a shiny silver bow: fertility, my natural hair, good health, red and white blood cells (yay!) ... and so on.
However, you must keep reading because NOTHING happens this easily (especially in the world of Melanie Roach) ... some bumps quickly appeared.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
A brilliant man and 100 questions
Wednesday quickly arrived-and I will admit that I was scared. My chest was full of butterflies. I decided to take my Mother and Mike to the appointment with me for support and to be sure that I didn't miss any crucial information. And off we went once again to the CBR hospital-- this place seemed to be becoming my 'second home.'
We were first met by a nurse in the cancer unit who asked a number of preliminary questions (the same questions I had been asked by every other doctor and nurse I had seen): allergies, medical conditions, how I found the lump, the details of my diagnosis ... etc. etc. She measured and weighed me and took my blood pressure and my temperature. She then asked me to remove my shirt (again, something I was getting used to) and gave me a jonny shirt to wear. She said that the doctor wasn't in his office, but would be with us shortly. Off she went.
We waited. And waited. And waited. After about an hour, we heard a nurse page Dr. MacCormick on the intercom. We waited again. Finally, about an hour and a half later, he arrived, apologizing for his tardiness and explaining that he was stuck upstairs with a patient.
I was surprised by his appearance-- I'm not quite sure what a nationally recognized oncologist should look like, but he is not what I pictured when people spoke of him.He looked rather young (maybe early 40s) and fit. He struck me as just your 'average joe'-- like someone you may run into at the grocery store and have a quick chat to. He wore very laid-back attire-- rather sporty, with no shirt or tie. I liked it! He was also very friendly and outgoing, which put my fears at ease.
He grabbed my file, but before opening it he looked at me and said: "Melanie, first of all, why don't you tell me how you got here ... What brought you to this point? How did it all unfold?" This is good ... he is seeing me as a person first, rather than as a patient with a medical record. I confidently told him the whole story, beginning from when I found the lump in Korea and ending with the most recent operation I had undergone. He wrote furiously as I spoke, asking intermittent questions and seeming quite interested. When I finished my story he asked me 100 questions-- many of which seemed completely unrelated to cancer, but I'm sure there was a purpose: Did you go to university? What did you study? (He even asked about my instrument when I told him I studied music) What do you do in your spare time? Where were you born? Have you ever lived anywhere else? How long have you been dating Michael? Smoke? Drink? Are you active? Is there a history of any cancers in your family? What are all of your grandparents last names? (The amazing thing here is that he was able to tell us, off the top of his head, what cancers were prevalent in people with the last names we listed!)
...He asked questions about every aspect of my life. He also wrote bits and pieces of everything I said down-- I even noticed him writing where I went to university and what I studied!
I later realized that this man is a not only extremely intelligent, but he is a very thorough doctor. He wanted to know every angle and aspect of my life so that he could not only know possible risk factors for my cancer, but so he could add to the wealth of knowledge and research he had already acquired. He wanted the complete story, the big picture. This would also help him to decide the most approprate treatment plan for me.
We were first met by a nurse in the cancer unit who asked a number of preliminary questions (the same questions I had been asked by every other doctor and nurse I had seen): allergies, medical conditions, how I found the lump, the details of my diagnosis ... etc. etc. She measured and weighed me and took my blood pressure and my temperature. She then asked me to remove my shirt (again, something I was getting used to) and gave me a jonny shirt to wear. She said that the doctor wasn't in his office, but would be with us shortly. Off she went.
We waited. And waited. And waited. After about an hour, we heard a nurse page Dr. MacCormick on the intercom. We waited again. Finally, about an hour and a half later, he arrived, apologizing for his tardiness and explaining that he was stuck upstairs with a patient.
I was surprised by his appearance-- I'm not quite sure what a nationally recognized oncologist should look like, but he is not what I pictured when people spoke of him.He looked rather young (maybe early 40s) and fit. He struck me as just your 'average joe'-- like someone you may run into at the grocery store and have a quick chat to. He wore very laid-back attire-- rather sporty, with no shirt or tie. I liked it! He was also very friendly and outgoing, which put my fears at ease.
He grabbed my file, but before opening it he looked at me and said: "Melanie, first of all, why don't you tell me how you got here ... What brought you to this point? How did it all unfold?" This is good ... he is seeing me as a person first, rather than as a patient with a medical record. I confidently told him the whole story, beginning from when I found the lump in Korea and ending with the most recent operation I had undergone. He wrote furiously as I spoke, asking intermittent questions and seeming quite interested. When I finished my story he asked me 100 questions-- many of which seemed completely unrelated to cancer, but I'm sure there was a purpose: Did you go to university? What did you study? (He even asked about my instrument when I told him I studied music) What do you do in your spare time? Where were you born? Have you ever lived anywhere else? How long have you been dating Michael? Smoke? Drink? Are you active? Is there a history of any cancers in your family? What are all of your grandparents last names? (The amazing thing here is that he was able to tell us, off the top of his head, what cancers were prevalent in people with the last names we listed!)
...He asked questions about every aspect of my life. He also wrote bits and pieces of everything I said down-- I even noticed him writing where I went to university and what I studied!
I later realized that this man is a not only extremely intelligent, but he is a very thorough doctor. He wanted to know every angle and aspect of my life so that he could not only know possible risk factors for my cancer, but so he could add to the wealth of knowledge and research he had already acquired. He wanted the complete story, the big picture. This would also help him to decide the most approprate treatment plan for me.
The phonecall
Exactly four weeks had passed since I had the operation when, finally, I got a phonecall from the cancer centre at the CBR hospital. The secretary informed me that I was to meet with Dr. MacCormick on Wednesday, October 24th at 10:30 a.m. My stomach felt like it leaped to my throat ... the moment I had been wanting but dreading for almost a month now had finally arrived. I quickly called all my closest family and friends and told them about the appointment.
Over the weekend, I was haunted by the unknown--what will happen at this meeting? Will I need chemo? radiation? I wonder what the rest of the pathology resports will reveal? I wonder what Dr. McC will be like? And so on and so on ...
I decided that the best thing I could do at this point is prepare. Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. I did more readings specifically on cancer treatments so that I would know what the doctor was speaking about, and so I could ask informed questions and make informed choices. I made a list of questions I wanted to ask so I wouldn't forget anything important. And ... I spoke with myself and those important to me about all the possible avenues for treatment and tried to come to grips with each and every one. I know I could never prepare myself fully for the crazy cancer treatments--I realize that you cannot fully understand the extent of something like chemotherapy until you experience it for yourself. However, I presented myself with the ideas of each and every treatment, learned about them so there would be no surprises, and took the first step in preparing myself-- which was being prepared for the meeting with the doctor and what he may suggest for me.
Over the weekend, I was haunted by the unknown--what will happen at this meeting? Will I need chemo? radiation? I wonder what the rest of the pathology resports will reveal? I wonder what Dr. McC will be like? And so on and so on ...
I decided that the best thing I could do at this point is prepare. Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. I did more readings specifically on cancer treatments so that I would know what the doctor was speaking about, and so I could ask informed questions and make informed choices. I made a list of questions I wanted to ask so I wouldn't forget anything important. And ... I spoke with myself and those important to me about all the possible avenues for treatment and tried to come to grips with each and every one. I know I could never prepare myself fully for the crazy cancer treatments--I realize that you cannot fully understand the extent of something like chemotherapy until you experience it for yourself. However, I presented myself with the ideas of each and every treatment, learned about them so there would be no surprises, and took the first step in preparing myself-- which was being prepared for the meeting with the doctor and what he may suggest for me.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Faith???
After my visit at the wigbank, I felt quite satisfied with the wig we chose, but still deep down inside I hoped that I would never have to wear it. I made my way over to my grandmother's house for lunch and told her where I had been. I was surprised to see her reaction-- a look of shock overcame her face and she had no problem displaying it. She said: "Melanie Dawn! Why would you ever go out and try wigs on when you don't even know if you have to do chemo?... My Girl! You need to start having faith in the Lord! I am praying everyday that you will not need it and I have faith that you won't but my faith will do nothing if you have no faith yourself!!!" She seemed extremely dismayed, teary-eyed even. I was speechless. First of all, I felt that she was accusing me of being 'faithless' and, second, I began to feel as if I was unappreciative of all of the excellent things that happened during this process (i.e. the quick surgery, the excellent care I receieved, the great reports). I quickly began reviewing my actions since I was diagnosed and wondered if I could do more in the area of spirituality.
My grandmother is a devoted Christian woman in every sense of the word. She knows the religion inside and out-- she lives and breathes it. I must admit that I haven't been overly spiritual over the course of my life, but I have always believed in God, prayed, and trusted that He would help me in times of need. But my grandmother was asking me to put aside everything else (namely, logic) and put my complete trust in God. She thought I was in His hands and that if I had faith, everything I asked would work in my favor. Although the idea of this sounded wonderful, I was not prepared to completely drop all the preparations I was doing and wait for a miracle. However, I am an openminded person and I am also a spiritual person (although I don't compare to my Grandmother in any way). Thus, I decided to make a compromise.
I decided that I would open my mind to miracles and begin trusting that the God I have always known was there would be there for me during this time. I also decided to trust that all the prayers that were put out there for me from people all over the world would act as a spiritual force for me. What do I have to lose? My faith, however, became somewhat different than my grandmother's. While she hoped and prayed for me never to have chemo, I hoped and prayed that Dr. MacCormick would recommend the most sound treatment for me. I wanted to have chemo only if it was absolutely 100% necessary and if the benefits far outweighed the consequences. Still, hopefully chemotherapy would NOT be the necessary avenue (of course).
"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step."-- Martin Luther King Jr.
"It is good to dream, but it is better to dream and work. Faith is mighty, but action with faith is mightier. Desiring is helpful, but work and desire are invincible." -- Thomas Robert Gaines
My grandmother is a devoted Christian woman in every sense of the word. She knows the religion inside and out-- she lives and breathes it. I must admit that I haven't been overly spiritual over the course of my life, but I have always believed in God, prayed, and trusted that He would help me in times of need. But my grandmother was asking me to put aside everything else (namely, logic) and put my complete trust in God. She thought I was in His hands and that if I had faith, everything I asked would work in my favor. Although the idea of this sounded wonderful, I was not prepared to completely drop all the preparations I was doing and wait for a miracle. However, I am an openminded person and I am also a spiritual person (although I don't compare to my Grandmother in any way). Thus, I decided to make a compromise.
I decided that I would open my mind to miracles and begin trusting that the God I have always known was there would be there for me during this time. I also decided to trust that all the prayers that were put out there for me from people all over the world would act as a spiritual force for me. What do I have to lose? My faith, however, became somewhat different than my grandmother's. While she hoped and prayed for me never to have chemo, I hoped and prayed that Dr. MacCormick would recommend the most sound treatment for me. I wanted to have chemo only if it was absolutely 100% necessary and if the benefits far outweighed the consequences. Still, hopefully chemotherapy would NOT be the necessary avenue (of course).
"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step."-- Martin Luther King Jr.
"It is good to dream, but it is better to dream and work. Faith is mighty, but action with faith is mightier. Desiring is helpful, but work and desire are invincible." -- Thomas Robert Gaines
Think outside the box
In addition to becoming knowledgable about treatments, I thought I had better do some additional preparations as well. If the worst case scenario is chemotherapy, then I should be prepared to do chemotherapy, even if by some strange chance I do not have to. Again, I would rather be prepared for the worst.
Thus, I started presenting myself with the idea of one day soon becoming bald--having no hair, no eyebrows, and no eyelashes. This idea made me absolutely WEAK. About 90% of my 25 years of life were spent with long (at least past the shoulders) hair--it had become a part of my identity. I never before realized this (likely because I had never had to consider it previously). When considering all the crazy things that may happen to me during chemotherapy, losing my hair became a big one. I tried and tried to picture it, but I just couldn't. This may be something I have to deal with when the time comes. One thing I certainly could do, however, was to at least ease the pain associated with losing my hair. Thus, I decided to start looking for wigs.
I went on the internet and checked out some places that specialize in wigs made of human hair--and I was SHOCKED. These wigs were absolutely beautiful. They came in every length, colour, cut, and style you could imagine. And the amazing thing is that you can have them cut by a hair dresser and can curl, straighten, or style them as you wish, using whichever products you wish. Wow! This will make things much easier. I looked through the wigs for hours fondling with the idea of having black or red hair, bangs, or a completely different style. I decided I may as well have fun with this-- I could choose to look at it as a curse, or I could choose to look at it as a chance to experiment with my looks and have fun until my hair grows back. One thing that my experience with cancer has taught me is to think outside the box and start viewing things in different ways. Eventually my internet surfing for wigs landed me at Ebay, where I found 100s of them for approx. $100 US. This would be worth my sanity ... and I considered getting a few just for fun. (Click here to see an example of a human hair wig)
I had also learned that the hospital had what is called a "Wig Bank," which uses donations (i believe through the cancer society) to provide cancer patients with a free wig if they do not have medical insurance. I decided that I would make an appointment and go in to see what they had for me. When the day arrived to go in for the appointment, nervousness struck. I was about to take a big step and to face a part of this gruelling process. I took a big gulp and made my way into the cancer centre, where the wig bank is located. I wasn't at all familiar with this section of the hospital--which, I should mention, is its own seperate wing with its own entrance. I pranced through the doors that read "Cancer Treatment" and walked down a short hallway where I noticed some ladies seated behind a desk. They looked at me and asked: "Can I help you?" (as if I wasn't welcome in this part of the hospital). I said: "I am looking for the wig bank." She looked at me with a confused face: "Well ... are you a cancer patient or...?" This question was asked with the expectation that the answer would be 'no.' I said nothing but "yes" and let her wallow in her shock. She looked 'caught off guard' and told me to wait a moment while she got the lady who volunteers in the wig bank.
I was soon met by Mary, a hairdresser who volunteers to help patients choose wigs that are suitable to them. Mary escorted me to the wig bank, where at least 50-60 wigs lined a long table. She let me know that it was uncommon for them to get long blonde wigs in, due to the low demand for them. The closest thing she had to my originial hair was a shoulder-length blonde wig with bangs. Before we tried this one, we experimented with some other colours and styles--none of which I admired. They all looked quite "wiggish" on me and were not made of the natural human hair like the ones I found online. Eventually, however, we tried the short blonde one and were pleasantly surprised. It suited me very much and looked like a healthier, shorter, and slightly darker version of my own hair. I could definitely see myself wearing this one. I decided that I would take this one and also order just one online for variety (and to keep up with the 'fun' side of things).
I informed Mary that I hadn't yet met with Dr. MacCormick and wasn't even entirely sure that I would undergo chemo, but I just wanted to be on the safe side and have everything prepared. She and one of the nurses decided that because they have few blonde wigs and because this one suited me so much, they would hold the wig at the centre for me until I met with the oncologist.
Thus, I started presenting myself with the idea of one day soon becoming bald--having no hair, no eyebrows, and no eyelashes. This idea made me absolutely WEAK. About 90% of my 25 years of life were spent with long (at least past the shoulders) hair--it had become a part of my identity. I never before realized this (likely because I had never had to consider it previously). When considering all the crazy things that may happen to me during chemotherapy, losing my hair became a big one. I tried and tried to picture it, but I just couldn't. This may be something I have to deal with when the time comes. One thing I certainly could do, however, was to at least ease the pain associated with losing my hair. Thus, I decided to start looking for wigs.
I went on the internet and checked out some places that specialize in wigs made of human hair--and I was SHOCKED. These wigs were absolutely beautiful. They came in every length, colour, cut, and style you could imagine. And the amazing thing is that you can have them cut by a hair dresser and can curl, straighten, or style them as you wish, using whichever products you wish. Wow! This will make things much easier. I looked through the wigs for hours fondling with the idea of having black or red hair, bangs, or a completely different style. I decided I may as well have fun with this-- I could choose to look at it as a curse, or I could choose to look at it as a chance to experiment with my looks and have fun until my hair grows back. One thing that my experience with cancer has taught me is to think outside the box and start viewing things in different ways. Eventually my internet surfing for wigs landed me at Ebay, where I found 100s of them for approx. $100 US. This would be worth my sanity ... and I considered getting a few just for fun. (Click here to see an example of a human hair wig)
I had also learned that the hospital had what is called a "Wig Bank," which uses donations (i believe through the cancer society) to provide cancer patients with a free wig if they do not have medical insurance. I decided that I would make an appointment and go in to see what they had for me. When the day arrived to go in for the appointment, nervousness struck. I was about to take a big step and to face a part of this gruelling process. I took a big gulp and made my way into the cancer centre, where the wig bank is located. I wasn't at all familiar with this section of the hospital--which, I should mention, is its own seperate wing with its own entrance. I pranced through the doors that read "Cancer Treatment" and walked down a short hallway where I noticed some ladies seated behind a desk. They looked at me and asked: "Can I help you?" (as if I wasn't welcome in this part of the hospital). I said: "I am looking for the wig bank." She looked at me with a confused face: "Well ... are you a cancer patient or...?" This question was asked with the expectation that the answer would be 'no.' I said nothing but "yes" and let her wallow in her shock. She looked 'caught off guard' and told me to wait a moment while she got the lady who volunteers in the wig bank.
I was soon met by Mary, a hairdresser who volunteers to help patients choose wigs that are suitable to them. Mary escorted me to the wig bank, where at least 50-60 wigs lined a long table. She let me know that it was uncommon for them to get long blonde wigs in, due to the low demand for them. The closest thing she had to my originial hair was a shoulder-length blonde wig with bangs. Before we tried this one, we experimented with some other colours and styles--none of which I admired. They all looked quite "wiggish" on me and were not made of the natural human hair like the ones I found online. Eventually, however, we tried the short blonde one and were pleasantly surprised. It suited me very much and looked like a healthier, shorter, and slightly darker version of my own hair. I could definitely see myself wearing this one. I decided that I would take this one and also order just one online for variety (and to keep up with the 'fun' side of things).
I informed Mary that I hadn't yet met with Dr. MacCormick and wasn't even entirely sure that I would undergo chemo, but I just wanted to be on the safe side and have everything prepared. She and one of the nurses decided that because they have few blonde wigs and because this one suited me so much, they would hold the wig at the centre for me until I met with the oncologist.
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