The first two pictures were taken May 15th-- approx. 3 1/2 months post-chemo.
The second two pictures were taken June 1st--approx. 4 months post-chemo.
Friday, June 15, 2007
And the follicles reunite ...
Here are a few updates on hairgrowth.
The first two pictures were taken May 15th-- approx. 3 1/2 months post-chemo.
The second two pictures were taken June 1st--approx. 4 months post-chemo.
The first two pictures were taken May 15th-- approx. 3 1/2 months post-chemo.
The second two pictures were taken June 1st--approx. 4 months post-chemo.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Follow-up Appointment #1 ... Eek
As if I did not have enough on my plate post-chemo, my first check-up snuck up on me very quickly. I had been trying to push ideas associated with that appointment as far away from my mind as possible. What is the point in worrying about something you have absolutely no control over? Why spend the time you have worrying about the future, when you can easily spend your time focusing on the present and what is happening now? And, to be perfectly honest, I had a calm feeling of reassurance somewhere within myself that was telling me that I needed not to worry and that everything was going to be fine.
Thinking about the appointment, however, was difficult to avoid, mainly due to the interest of others concerning my progress. For instance, I went to the dentist for my annual cleaning just a few days before the appointment. This was the first time I had been to the dentist since my diagnosis, so she was quite interested in knowing the details of what I had been through. "So when was your last treatment?" she asked. I replied that I received my final treatment in February. "Oh so you must have a follow-up coming soon then, eh?" I nodded my head. "You must be a nervous wreck about that, are you?" she asked. The answer to this question was by no means black and white and I quickly attempted to gather all the little inklings of thoughts together that concerned the appointment to give her a straightforward reply: "No, I think I'm pretty confident about the appointment, actually." I smiled. Am I being braizen?
The day of the appointment was a little different, however. As I went about my usual morning routine, I thought about the possibilities for this appointment. What if they were to say that my tests were not clear? What if I am being too confident? I tried my best to push these thoughts as far away from my mind as possible and soon arrived at the hospital. The usual routine for appointments unfolded-- check in at the front desk, wait, see the nurse to get some routine stuff done (like blood pressure, weight, pulse, etc.), wait ... again. Fortunately, my wait to see the doctor was much shorter this time than previous appointments. However, it was the female doctor who helps Dr. MacCormick who arrived to greet me once again. I thought for sure I would at least see my own oncologist for my follow-up appointments. But I guess not.
The doctor asked me general questions about how I was coming along and allowed me to ask her some questions of my own. She then wrote me a prescription for Tamoxifen and began to gather up her things. Wait a minute ... what about the results for the bloodwork I had done last week? A strange look must have overcome me: "And ... my tests results were..." She looked startled: "Oh yes!!! That's the reason you are here isn't it?!?!" She laughed. "All your test results were absolutely perfect, hunny. You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside." How nice. I felt a wave of relief overcome me, but at the same time thought the whole appointment was a little unprofessional.
Nonetheless, I was filled with feelings of excitement, happiness, relief, and freedom as I left the hospital. All I can do now is hope that I will be just as fortunate in the future ....
Thinking about the appointment, however, was difficult to avoid, mainly due to the interest of others concerning my progress. For instance, I went to the dentist for my annual cleaning just a few days before the appointment. This was the first time I had been to the dentist since my diagnosis, so she was quite interested in knowing the details of what I had been through. "So when was your last treatment?" she asked. I replied that I received my final treatment in February. "Oh so you must have a follow-up coming soon then, eh?" I nodded my head. "You must be a nervous wreck about that, are you?" she asked. The answer to this question was by no means black and white and I quickly attempted to gather all the little inklings of thoughts together that concerned the appointment to give her a straightforward reply: "No, I think I'm pretty confident about the appointment, actually." I smiled. Am I being braizen?
The day of the appointment was a little different, however. As I went about my usual morning routine, I thought about the possibilities for this appointment. What if they were to say that my tests were not clear? What if I am being too confident? I tried my best to push these thoughts as far away from my mind as possible and soon arrived at the hospital. The usual routine for appointments unfolded-- check in at the front desk, wait, see the nurse to get some routine stuff done (like blood pressure, weight, pulse, etc.), wait ... again. Fortunately, my wait to see the doctor was much shorter this time than previous appointments. However, it was the female doctor who helps Dr. MacCormick who arrived to greet me once again. I thought for sure I would at least see my own oncologist for my follow-up appointments. But I guess not.
The doctor asked me general questions about how I was coming along and allowed me to ask her some questions of my own. She then wrote me a prescription for Tamoxifen and began to gather up her things. Wait a minute ... what about the results for the bloodwork I had done last week? A strange look must have overcome me: "And ... my tests results were..." She looked startled: "Oh yes!!! That's the reason you are here isn't it?!?!" She laughed. "All your test results were absolutely perfect, hunny. You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside." How nice. I felt a wave of relief overcome me, but at the same time thought the whole appointment was a little unprofessional.
Nonetheless, I was filled with feelings of excitement, happiness, relief, and freedom as I left the hospital. All I can do now is hope that I will be just as fortunate in the future ....
Friday, May 25, 2007
Make a Pledge For Your Future And Mine
The Canadian Cancer Society is hosting its annual Relay For Life event once again this June. The Relay For Life is a fundraising event held nation-wide where teams of ten walk, run, or stroll around a track for twelve hours (through the wee hours of the morning) in exchange for pledges. Money from pledges is used to fund cancer research projects, to provide information services and support programs through the Canadian Cancer Society, and to advocate for public policies that prevent cancer and help those living with it. The event also provides a chance for cancer survivors to come together and for loved ones to celebrate those touched with cancer or to remember those who lost their battle with cancer. Among the planned events of the evening are the Survivor's Victory Lap and the Luminary Ceremony.
This year will be my very first year taking part in the Relay For Life and I'm really looking forward to the event. This year I relay in hopes for a long and fufilling future for myself and the millions of other people who have been or who may someday be affected by cancer. I relay in memory of those brave souls whose lives cancer has claimed. And, most of all, I relay with the determination to fight this disease.
I think the event will give me a chance to come together with other people affected by cancer and will give my family and I a chance to celebrate my victory over this gruelling disease. Most importantly, however, it will give me a chance to come together with others in hopes of making cancer history.
If you would like to pledge me in the Relay for Life, click here. By pledging you will not only be supporting me and the millions of other Canadians affected by cancer, but you will be contributing to a future with better treatments for cancer, more information and services for those affected by cancer, and advocacy that could all very well benefit you or someone you love in days to come.
(All pledges over $10 are tax deducatable. All pledges must be received by June 7th, 2007).
***I will keep you updated on my personal fundraising progress by adding comments to this post!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Tired. Period.
I apologize for my lack of posting as of late. As you can probably imagine, the hussle and bussle of my life over the past 8 months has slowly begun to fade. It is difficult for me to reflect on the current state of my life as it is unfolding. Many things are occuring, but in such a slow and subtle manner that they are often difficult to sort through. I am sure that in a year's time I will be able to write a book about the transition between having cancer/ cancer treatment and obtaining a normal life. But, for now, I hope you will understand why the well has been running slightly dry!
The past month has seen a great deal of ups and downs both physically and mentally. Physically, I feel great ... most of the time. I have noticed, however, that when I exert myself moreso than usual, I get tired much more easily. For instance, I was painting a room with Mike one afternoon and found that after just an hour of continuous work, I felt I had no other choice but to lay down. My body felt overwhelmed, as if a wave of exhaustion suddenly overcame it. This also happens to a lesser extent when I go to the gym everyday. I usually do about thirty minutes of cardiovasular activity (like running or biking), followed by about an hour of stretching and weight training. Sometimes I play squash following my workout if I have the time and energy. Usually I find myself tired and needing a rest as soon as I get home from the gym, where as in the past I used to feel energized following my workouts. I find that once I relax for 10-20 minutes and have a drink or a bite to eat, I am usually fine. I feel that now, more than ever, I am much more in tune with my body. If I feel tired, I take a short rest, rather than trying to beat my way through it. I feel that if I listen to my body the healing process will unravel much more smoothly.
In addition to feeling physically tired, my menstrual periods have also come to a sudden halt. During chemo, I continued to have my periods and was very happy about this, simply because it meant that the chemotherapy hadn't managed to shut my ovaries down. I hoped that this meant that the small risk of me not being able to have children in the future would be ceased. It was in mid-March, however, that I noticed I did not have my period. This was almost two months following chemo, and approximately six weeks after beginning Tamoxifen (my hormonal therapy treatment). When my period failed to arrive on time, one million things began to run through my mind. Predominantly, I thought about the warnings I was given by Dr. MacCormick about getting pregnant: Tamoxifen can make you more fertile. But, you need to take extra care not to get pregnant while on Tamoxifen because it is proven to be harmful to the unborn child. Luckly, I had an appointment with my family doctor in early April, so I was able to ask her about my sudden halt in periods. She reassured me that it was the Tamoxifen and that my periods could come and go randomly for the next year or so.
Although it is great not to have a period (we women all know the pain they cause!) it is also somewhat distressing to me to know that I am supposed to be having periods and I am not. This means that my body must be going through some dreadful hormonal changes. I just hope that this will not cause any additional harm to my body.
The past month has seen a great deal of ups and downs both physically and mentally. Physically, I feel great ... most of the time. I have noticed, however, that when I exert myself moreso than usual, I get tired much more easily. For instance, I was painting a room with Mike one afternoon and found that after just an hour of continuous work, I felt I had no other choice but to lay down. My body felt overwhelmed, as if a wave of exhaustion suddenly overcame it. This also happens to a lesser extent when I go to the gym everyday. I usually do about thirty minutes of cardiovasular activity (like running or biking), followed by about an hour of stretching and weight training. Sometimes I play squash following my workout if I have the time and energy. Usually I find myself tired and needing a rest as soon as I get home from the gym, where as in the past I used to feel energized following my workouts. I find that once I relax for 10-20 minutes and have a drink or a bite to eat, I am usually fine. I feel that now, more than ever, I am much more in tune with my body. If I feel tired, I take a short rest, rather than trying to beat my way through it. I feel that if I listen to my body the healing process will unravel much more smoothly.
In addition to feeling physically tired, my menstrual periods have also come to a sudden halt. During chemo, I continued to have my periods and was very happy about this, simply because it meant that the chemotherapy hadn't managed to shut my ovaries down. I hoped that this meant that the small risk of me not being able to have children in the future would be ceased. It was in mid-March, however, that I noticed I did not have my period. This was almost two months following chemo, and approximately six weeks after beginning Tamoxifen (my hormonal therapy treatment). When my period failed to arrive on time, one million things began to run through my mind. Predominantly, I thought about the warnings I was given by Dr. MacCormick about getting pregnant: Tamoxifen can make you more fertile. But, you need to take extra care not to get pregnant while on Tamoxifen because it is proven to be harmful to the unborn child. Luckly, I had an appointment with my family doctor in early April, so I was able to ask her about my sudden halt in periods. She reassured me that it was the Tamoxifen and that my periods could come and go randomly for the next year or so.
Although it is great not to have a period (we women all know the pain they cause!) it is also somewhat distressing to me to know that I am supposed to be having periods and I am not. This means that my body must be going through some dreadful hormonal changes. I just hope that this will not cause any additional harm to my body.
We May Not Be Able To Direct The Wind, But We Sure Can Adjust The Sails!
Mentally, the past month has seemed like a rollercoaster ride of emotions. I recently heard someone say: "It is possible to get rid of the cancer inside your body, but it is impossible to get rid of the cancer that is in your mind." This definitely contains elements of truth. As I move forward from this crazy experience, I feel that I am presented with endless obstacles and barriers to overcome.
As of late, I have been feeling as though a whirlwind of emotions are flooding over me. I am unsure whether this is due to my recent traumatic experience and everything that I am contuining to deal with or whether it is a result of the hormonal therapy I am undergoing ... or a combination of the two. First of all, I am left to deal with a number of issues:
1) Health Issues- Am I doing everything I should be to prevent a recurrence or a new growth of cancer? I wonder what could have caused my cancer? (I can't help but rack my brains about that one) Will I be alive in ten years? What would happen if my cancer returned? Is this a lump? Is that a lump? Could this or that be cancer?
2) Self-confidence Issues- Mainly stemming from hairloss and loss of a body part, although this aspect is slowly regaining strength.
3) Friendship Issues- I cannot help but feel resentful towards those that failed to offer their support during this time. Also, I feel as though I have become disconnected with many people during treatment when, first of all, there were many limitations on what I could do in my spare time, and second, because I distanced myself from some people because I felt as though they couldn't relate to me and what I was going through or because I was in a completely different place than most people my age.
4) Hormonal Therapy- Tamoxifen works by mimicking the body's natural estrogens and thereby competing with natural estrogens for a place on the body's cell receptors. This means that less estrogen is actually gaining access to cells because "someone else" has gotten there first. As I mentioned so many times before, Estrogen is often a fuel that allows cancers to burn --or the food that helps them to grow. Without Estrogen, many breast cancers cannot develop. My breast cancer was over 70% fuelled by Estrogen and Progesterone, so it was a given that I would be placed on Tamoxifen. The benefit of Tamoxifen is that it dramatically reduces my risk of cancer recurrence and of developing a new cancer. It is not without its drawbacks, however. One drawback that has been haunting me over the past several weeks is changes in mood. As many of you probably already know, severe changes in hormones mean severe changes in mood (hence, PMS). Although I do not feel that my changes in mood are severe, they are definitely noticeable. I find myself feeling "down in the dumps" much more than usual without really knowing why. Small things seem to irritate me easier than they normally would have.
5) Relationship Issues- The ups and downs as well as the highs and lows associated with all of the above have definitely caused some strain on my relationship with Michael. We have been able to beat our way through it all thus far, but sometimes I wonder how much a relationship can take.
With all of the stress and strain I have endured thus far, it has certainly not been an easy ride. But, one cannot sit and complain and self-loathe all of the time (although that does make me feel better SOMEtimes!). I recently decided that I needed to take action with my life and make some changes that could do nothing but benefit me.
The first step was to find someone professional to talk to. I was speaking with a few people along the way who thought it should be a given for me to talk to someone on a regular basis about everything I've been through. Being the stubborn person I am, I wanted to be strong and get through it on my own (with the support of my loved ones, of course). But after enduring eight months of such intensity, I felt like that time had definitely arrived. It was a very simple process:
I had a doctor's appointment at the cancer centre one morning, so while I was there I simply mentioned to the doctor that I would like to talk to someone about cancer-related issues. Normally, the doctors would suggest support groups and the like. But, when you are in your 20s facing cancer, it is definitely not the same as being in your 60s and facing cancer. And, the age majority at most of these support groups is 50+. The doctor mentioned that they have a social worker at the cancer centre who leads some of the support groups, is there for cancer patients to talk to, and deals with other issues cancer patients face (like financial woes, for instance). She said she would call him down right away so we could at least be introduced and obtain a starting point.
The social worker quickly arrived to my room, and I remembered that he was actually a friend of Mike's father's. I wasn't sure what to think about this. Could I really pour my heart out to someone who has personal connections with me? I tried to forget about it and focus on the fact that this meeting was confidential and that he was here to help me. He turned out to be extremely easy to talk to and seemed to know a great deal about everything I had been going through. He had dealt with so many cancer patients in the past and heard so many things directly from other people going through similar ordeals, that he was able to tell me what I was feeling. I was left only to agree with everything he was saying and to add my own personal take on things. There were even some issues he discussed that I was able to relate to without even previously realizing that those things were bothering me. It felt great to know that there was someone out there who might understand what it I'm going through. I was so used to trying to make sense of things on my own and then attempting to explain these feeling to family and friends, knowing deep down that they really couldn't relate to me.
After speaking with the social worker for about thirty minutes we decided to schedule another appointment, which has yet to take place. I definitely feel great about this step I have taken, because I feel that it may give me a chance to get some things "off my chest" and to talk to someone who understands what I'm going through. If it is unsuccessful, then my next step will be to talk with someone more specialized, like a therapist. I'll keep you updated on how it unfolds.
I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead and some come from behind.
But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see.
Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me! ~Dr. Seuss
As of late, I have been feeling as though a whirlwind of emotions are flooding over me. I am unsure whether this is due to my recent traumatic experience and everything that I am contuining to deal with or whether it is a result of the hormonal therapy I am undergoing ... or a combination of the two. First of all, I am left to deal with a number of issues:
1) Health Issues- Am I doing everything I should be to prevent a recurrence or a new growth of cancer? I wonder what could have caused my cancer? (I can't help but rack my brains about that one) Will I be alive in ten years? What would happen if my cancer returned? Is this a lump? Is that a lump? Could this or that be cancer?
2) Self-confidence Issues- Mainly stemming from hairloss and loss of a body part, although this aspect is slowly regaining strength.
3) Friendship Issues- I cannot help but feel resentful towards those that failed to offer their support during this time. Also, I feel as though I have become disconnected with many people during treatment when, first of all, there were many limitations on what I could do in my spare time, and second, because I distanced myself from some people because I felt as though they couldn't relate to me and what I was going through or because I was in a completely different place than most people my age.
4) Hormonal Therapy- Tamoxifen works by mimicking the body's natural estrogens and thereby competing with natural estrogens for a place on the body's cell receptors. This means that less estrogen is actually gaining access to cells because "someone else" has gotten there first. As I mentioned so many times before, Estrogen is often a fuel that allows cancers to burn --or the food that helps them to grow. Without Estrogen, many breast cancers cannot develop. My breast cancer was over 70% fuelled by Estrogen and Progesterone, so it was a given that I would be placed on Tamoxifen. The benefit of Tamoxifen is that it dramatically reduces my risk of cancer recurrence and of developing a new cancer. It is not without its drawbacks, however. One drawback that has been haunting me over the past several weeks is changes in mood. As many of you probably already know, severe changes in hormones mean severe changes in mood (hence, PMS). Although I do not feel that my changes in mood are severe, they are definitely noticeable. I find myself feeling "down in the dumps" much more than usual without really knowing why. Small things seem to irritate me easier than they normally would have.
5) Relationship Issues- The ups and downs as well as the highs and lows associated with all of the above have definitely caused some strain on my relationship with Michael. We have been able to beat our way through it all thus far, but sometimes I wonder how much a relationship can take.
With all of the stress and strain I have endured thus far, it has certainly not been an easy ride. But, one cannot sit and complain and self-loathe all of the time (although that does make me feel better SOMEtimes!). I recently decided that I needed to take action with my life and make some changes that could do nothing but benefit me.
The first step was to find someone professional to talk to. I was speaking with a few people along the way who thought it should be a given for me to talk to someone on a regular basis about everything I've been through. Being the stubborn person I am, I wanted to be strong and get through it on my own (with the support of my loved ones, of course). But after enduring eight months of such intensity, I felt like that time had definitely arrived. It was a very simple process:
I had a doctor's appointment at the cancer centre one morning, so while I was there I simply mentioned to the doctor that I would like to talk to someone about cancer-related issues. Normally, the doctors would suggest support groups and the like. But, when you are in your 20s facing cancer, it is definitely not the same as being in your 60s and facing cancer. And, the age majority at most of these support groups is 50+. The doctor mentioned that they have a social worker at the cancer centre who leads some of the support groups, is there for cancer patients to talk to, and deals with other issues cancer patients face (like financial woes, for instance). She said she would call him down right away so we could at least be introduced and obtain a starting point.
The social worker quickly arrived to my room, and I remembered that he was actually a friend of Mike's father's. I wasn't sure what to think about this. Could I really pour my heart out to someone who has personal connections with me? I tried to forget about it and focus on the fact that this meeting was confidential and that he was here to help me. He turned out to be extremely easy to talk to and seemed to know a great deal about everything I had been going through. He had dealt with so many cancer patients in the past and heard so many things directly from other people going through similar ordeals, that he was able to tell me what I was feeling. I was left only to agree with everything he was saying and to add my own personal take on things. There were even some issues he discussed that I was able to relate to without even previously realizing that those things were bothering me. It felt great to know that there was someone out there who might understand what it I'm going through. I was so used to trying to make sense of things on my own and then attempting to explain these feeling to family and friends, knowing deep down that they really couldn't relate to me.
After speaking with the social worker for about thirty minutes we decided to schedule another appointment, which has yet to take place. I definitely feel great about this step I have taken, because I feel that it may give me a chance to get some things "off my chest" and to talk to someone who understands what I'm going through. If it is unsuccessful, then my next step will be to talk with someone more specialized, like a therapist. I'll keep you updated on how it unfolds.
I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead and some come from behind.
But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see.
Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me! ~Dr. Seuss
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Update on Hairgrowth
It is now 10 weeks post-chemo and my is now coated in an even array of dark blonde, soft hair, about a half an inch long. I am very pleased with the progress--every morning when I wake up I go to the mirror to see the changes and every day the growth is noticeable. My friend visited yesterday after not having seen me in about two weeks and she was awestuck at how much it had grown in that short amount of time. My mother even noticed after not seeing me for three days! The rest of my body hair has also grown in, although I could have went without shaving for another little while! My eyelashes and eyebrows never did fall out, although they did seem somewhat thin for a couple of week following my final treatment.
Here are some pictures from Easter Weekend:
Here are some pictures from Easter Weekend:
On Coming In From The Dark ...
It's funny how life goes. I can remember the day I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The prevailing thought in my mind was: How could I have been so stupid to worry about the petty things I used to worry about? If only I could go back to the days when my major worries were getting good grades, paying the bills, traffic jams, petty arguments, and being late... Suddenly I was posed with a much more massive load of issues to deal with--Will I be dead before I'm 30? Will I ever be able to have children? Will I be able to deal with the mental weight of a cancer diagnoses and the physical strain of its treatment? I remember thinking that I would never again allow life's minor inconveniences to trouble me. I would care about nothing but being alive and being happy.
Six months came and went. I was finished of all my treatments and was finally given a second chance to live my life to the fullest without being sick. Did I do that? Unfortunately, no. As you may have noticed from many of my posts from March, my attitude began to transform from positive and optimistic to rather negative and self-loathing. Instead of feeling fortunate to be alive and to have made my way through one of the most horrible experiences of a lifetime, I began to focus on the negatives: my lack of hair holding me back from teaching and socializing, my compromised physical strength holding me back from being as active as I would like, the resentment I felt towards some of my friends, and the sense of confusion and defeat caused by the apparent ignorance of the complete strangers who took it upon themselves to judge me.
Suddenly I found myself entwined in the same chaos from which I had managed to liberate myself from upon my diagnosis of breast cancer. All the little things in life that manage to get us down, that seem to pile up and become a mound of stress and affliction, began to overcome me once again, as it always had in the past. One day I began to wallow in my own self-pity: I have such bad luck. I must be cursed. Why is all this happening to me? Can't anything in my life go right? I cried. I freeked. I went to my parents and repeated all of my thoughts as tears streamed down my face.
My father could only shake his head in disbelief. He said: "Melanie. I know some things aren't working out the way you would like, but just look at yourself. You need to calm down. Melanie, you just survived cancer. That is one of the biggest things you could ever overcome, and here you are getting this upset over little petty things?" At that moment, I walked out of the dark.
Light bulb moments. I love those. At the very instant that my father said those words, it was as though I had awoken from a dream. How could I be so ungrateful? How could I allow little things like these bother me when I had just gone through all that I had? The day of my diagnosis rushed back to me and I remembered all the things I said to myself. I said that I would focus on living and being happy, rather than allowing all life's minor inconveniences trouble me. I had begun to abandon all of that. But it did not take long for my thoughts to change.
From that moment on, I have been able to enjoy my life tenfold, along with all its little "twists, turns, bumps, and bridges." Because of my father's simple but wise words, I have been able to regain my former sense of positivity and optimism. I try to see every day as a blessing. I attempt to do the things that make me happy everyday. I make an effort to see the big picture and to put all of life's little troubles into perspective. Rather than worrying what people think or say about my hair, for instance, I now feel happy that my hair is growing back as quickly and as healthy as it is, I am thankful that I can pull off the short hair look, and I feel grateful that I can go out into public places at all (after being practically house-ridden on chemo). I feel that taking things into perspective and reevaluating life as such has diminished my stress levels tremendously, and I think that this is an integral part of the healing process (and an integral part of maintaining health and wellness).
Thanks, Dad :-)
"Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it." -Groucho Marx
Six months came and went. I was finished of all my treatments and was finally given a second chance to live my life to the fullest without being sick. Did I do that? Unfortunately, no. As you may have noticed from many of my posts from March, my attitude began to transform from positive and optimistic to rather negative and self-loathing. Instead of feeling fortunate to be alive and to have made my way through one of the most horrible experiences of a lifetime, I began to focus on the negatives: my lack of hair holding me back from teaching and socializing, my compromised physical strength holding me back from being as active as I would like, the resentment I felt towards some of my friends, and the sense of confusion and defeat caused by the apparent ignorance of the complete strangers who took it upon themselves to judge me.
Suddenly I found myself entwined in the same chaos from which I had managed to liberate myself from upon my diagnosis of breast cancer. All the little things in life that manage to get us down, that seem to pile up and become a mound of stress and affliction, began to overcome me once again, as it always had in the past. One day I began to wallow in my own self-pity: I have such bad luck. I must be cursed. Why is all this happening to me? Can't anything in my life go right? I cried. I freeked. I went to my parents and repeated all of my thoughts as tears streamed down my face.
My father could only shake his head in disbelief. He said: "Melanie. I know some things aren't working out the way you would like, but just look at yourself. You need to calm down. Melanie, you just survived cancer. That is one of the biggest things you could ever overcome, and here you are getting this upset over little petty things?" At that moment, I walked out of the dark.
Light bulb moments. I love those. At the very instant that my father said those words, it was as though I had awoken from a dream. How could I be so ungrateful? How could I allow little things like these bother me when I had just gone through all that I had? The day of my diagnosis rushed back to me and I remembered all the things I said to myself. I said that I would focus on living and being happy, rather than allowing all life's minor inconveniences trouble me. I had begun to abandon all of that. But it did not take long for my thoughts to change.
From that moment on, I have been able to enjoy my life tenfold, along with all its little "twists, turns, bumps, and bridges." Because of my father's simple but wise words, I have been able to regain my former sense of positivity and optimism. I try to see every day as a blessing. I attempt to do the things that make me happy everyday. I make an effort to see the big picture and to put all of life's little troubles into perspective. Rather than worrying what people think or say about my hair, for instance, I now feel happy that my hair is growing back as quickly and as healthy as it is, I am thankful that I can pull off the short hair look, and I feel grateful that I can go out into public places at all (after being practically house-ridden on chemo). I feel that taking things into perspective and reevaluating life as such has diminished my stress levels tremendously, and I think that this is an integral part of the healing process (and an integral part of maintaining health and wellness).
Thanks, Dad :-)
"Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it." -Groucho Marx
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Greatest Ignorance Is To Reject Something You Know Nothing About ...
On Friday night, Mike and I made plans to go to a Cape Breton Screaming Eagles playoff game and then to make our way over to a small bar in Sydney where Mike's friend was playing an informal gig. Two weekends previous, I had gone to the same bar to see the same person play, but I went sporting my long blonde wig. Although I looked great, by the end of the evening my head was so itchy I couldn't wait to leave the bar and remove the wig as soon as possible. I found myself in the bathroom on a number of occassions removing the wig so that I could relieve my head of the extremely uncomfortable sensation it was causing me. So, this time I decided that I was going to go as myself--no uncomfortable wigs or hats, no facades ... Just me as me. Despite all the rude comments fired at me from ignorant people the few weeks leading up to this particular night, going out in public bald (just about anywhere) was becoming easier each and every time I did it. I learned to ignore the stares and comments and to feel sexy as is. This night, however, would be the first time I would enter an extremely crowded hockey game or a bar full of twenty-somethings. But I didn't think about that. I got ready as I usually would, met Mike, and made my way into the night thoughtlessly.
First stop: Screaming Eagles Hockey Game. As we drove up to the Centre 200 parking lot it was evident that the place was crawling with people. There was not a parking spot in sight and we were left to park down the road about a five minute walk from the building. So ... it was a busy night. I still, however, entered the place thoughtlessly-- almost forgetting that I was sporting a Sinead O'Connor style. This thoughtlessness, however, was quickly revoked as I made my way towards the front door of the building. Just as I was about to enter, I heard: "What the f*** ?!?!?! ... Look at that f***in' Britney spears f***er!!!!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Not only were people make rude, judgmental comments about me ... they were screaming them AT me. I felt completely violated and stopped in my tracks. I turned my head to see a large group of young boys, probably early high school aged. I stood there looking at them, silently threatening them to say it again. I looked over at Mike--he looked as though any minute fumes may blow out his ears and nose. His jaw clenched: "Who said it?" he hollared. Every boy in the group put his head down. He repeated: "Who said it?" They all turned sheepishly ... the little cowards. Mike said: "Let's go, they're only kids, its not worth our time."
Although they may have been young and ignorant, the abuse these kids threw at me completely killed my confidence. Suddenly, I became very aware of myself and felt as though everyone in the whole rink was looking at me. I wondered: Do I really look that strange? They made me sound like some kind of alien or monster or something. I tried to brush it off and hold my head up ... but this became difficult. I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me. They were. It seemed that everywhere I turned there were people looking at me in shock. The whispers invaded me and began to sound like screams: "Britney Spears ... Britney Spears!!!" I sat in my seat and tried to shelter myself amongst the hundreds of people seated around me.
Somehow I managed to make it to the end of the hockey game, despite feeling as though I was being made a mockery. Here I am, a 25 year old battling a potentially fatal disease, dealing with things most people my age wouldn't have to dream about dealing with, trying my best to cope with devastating hairloss and trying to maintain what feminitiy I have left, and I have people screaming at me, whispering about me, staring at me, and making a joke out of everything I've been through. Do I need to wear a sign around saying that I am I cancer survivor in order to get people to leave me alone?
I happily left the Centre 200 that night, finally escaping the cruel. I felt so small, helpless, torn, and battered. I tried to hold it together but the thoughts of what I had just endured invaded my mind. The whole arena may as well have physically thrown things at me ... it was the equivalent to me. Suddenly I burst into tears. Helplessness overcame me. I felt that no matter how hard I tried to move on and live my life again, something would get in the way.
With a little support and encouragement from Michael, my friend Lindsey, and my Dad, I somehow mustered up the courage to make my way to the bar as planned, a couple hours later. They convinced me that people simply don't understand my situation and that I shouldn't allow other people's ignorance to get in the way of my happiness. Lindsey provided me with the insight that most of those people wouldn't be half as strong as me if they had to go through what I did and that none of them could look so beautiful doing it. This gave me a boost of confidence, and so, with my cheering squad behind me, I made my way to the bar.
The rest of the night proved to be a great time and I was finally able to let loose and be myself. The bar was much less crowded (less than 30 people) and I knew about 80% of the people there. As the night progressed, I was soon able to allow the nights events to fade from my memory. Although I was able to collect myself and regain my confidence since then, I still look back on that evening and shiver. In reflecting on the events of that evening, I have thought of one hundred things I would have said to those people if I could have that night over. I wonder what their reaction would have been if I had calmly approached them and told them I had cancer? Next time something like this happens this is how I plan to deal with it. Hopefully it will impact those people enough so that they will never make such rude remarks, etc. to others again.
"And don't you see the strange way
That the girl dances away a day
Even ridiculed display
Won't stop her feet from moving"
"Why should I be hypnotized
By someone else's lie?
Why should I take time and pride in
What someone else believes?"
"Why should I bend myself around to make you smile
Why should I wear your blinders to give you style?"
~ Dave Matthews
First stop: Screaming Eagles Hockey Game. As we drove up to the Centre 200 parking lot it was evident that the place was crawling with people. There was not a parking spot in sight and we were left to park down the road about a five minute walk from the building. So ... it was a busy night. I still, however, entered the place thoughtlessly-- almost forgetting that I was sporting a Sinead O'Connor style. This thoughtlessness, however, was quickly revoked as I made my way towards the front door of the building. Just as I was about to enter, I heard: "What the f*** ?!?!?! ... Look at that f***in' Britney spears f***er!!!!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Not only were people make rude, judgmental comments about me ... they were screaming them AT me. I felt completely violated and stopped in my tracks. I turned my head to see a large group of young boys, probably early high school aged. I stood there looking at them, silently threatening them to say it again. I looked over at Mike--he looked as though any minute fumes may blow out his ears and nose. His jaw clenched: "Who said it?" he hollared. Every boy in the group put his head down. He repeated: "Who said it?" They all turned sheepishly ... the little cowards. Mike said: "Let's go, they're only kids, its not worth our time."
Although they may have been young and ignorant, the abuse these kids threw at me completely killed my confidence. Suddenly, I became very aware of myself and felt as though everyone in the whole rink was looking at me. I wondered: Do I really look that strange? They made me sound like some kind of alien or monster or something. I tried to brush it off and hold my head up ... but this became difficult. I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me. They were. It seemed that everywhere I turned there were people looking at me in shock. The whispers invaded me and began to sound like screams: "Britney Spears ... Britney Spears!!!" I sat in my seat and tried to shelter myself amongst the hundreds of people seated around me.
Somehow I managed to make it to the end of the hockey game, despite feeling as though I was being made a mockery. Here I am, a 25 year old battling a potentially fatal disease, dealing with things most people my age wouldn't have to dream about dealing with, trying my best to cope with devastating hairloss and trying to maintain what feminitiy I have left, and I have people screaming at me, whispering about me, staring at me, and making a joke out of everything I've been through. Do I need to wear a sign around saying that I am I cancer survivor in order to get people to leave me alone?
I happily left the Centre 200 that night, finally escaping the cruel. I felt so small, helpless, torn, and battered. I tried to hold it together but the thoughts of what I had just endured invaded my mind. The whole arena may as well have physically thrown things at me ... it was the equivalent to me. Suddenly I burst into tears. Helplessness overcame me. I felt that no matter how hard I tried to move on and live my life again, something would get in the way.
With a little support and encouragement from Michael, my friend Lindsey, and my Dad, I somehow mustered up the courage to make my way to the bar as planned, a couple hours later. They convinced me that people simply don't understand my situation and that I shouldn't allow other people's ignorance to get in the way of my happiness. Lindsey provided me with the insight that most of those people wouldn't be half as strong as me if they had to go through what I did and that none of them could look so beautiful doing it. This gave me a boost of confidence, and so, with my cheering squad behind me, I made my way to the bar.
The rest of the night proved to be a great time and I was finally able to let loose and be myself. The bar was much less crowded (less than 30 people) and I knew about 80% of the people there. As the night progressed, I was soon able to allow the nights events to fade from my memory. Although I was able to collect myself and regain my confidence since then, I still look back on that evening and shiver. In reflecting on the events of that evening, I have thought of one hundred things I would have said to those people if I could have that night over. I wonder what their reaction would have been if I had calmly approached them and told them I had cancer? Next time something like this happens this is how I plan to deal with it. Hopefully it will impact those people enough so that they will never make such rude remarks, etc. to others again.
"And don't you see the strange way
That the girl dances away a day
Even ridiculed display
Won't stop her feet from moving"
"Why should I be hypnotized
By someone else's lie?
Why should I take time and pride in
What someone else believes?"
"Why should I bend myself around to make you smile
Why should I wear your blinders to give you style?"
~ Dave Matthews
Poor Britney.
Before signing off of this topic, let's talk about one of the major roots of this problem of mine: Britney Spears. Although I try not to get wrapped up in Hollywood drama, this time I have no choice. For those of you who have been following her story (it's kind of difficult not to follow it if you watch television or read newpapers/ magazines), you probably know that once Britney met her beau, Kevin Federline, things seemed to go downhill for her. She let her physical appearance slide, began smoking, drinking heavily, and using drugs, and had a child. When her hubby left her, it seemed as though she had trouble dealing and began doing erratic things--including shaving her head.
When I first heard the news that Britney Spears shaved her head I couldn't help but let out a chuckle, simply because I find Hollywood so rediculous sometimes-- I often think some of these people will do absolutely anything for attention. Mike mentioned that he thought she was trivializing something serious which many women are forced into experiencing because of diseases like cancer. I really didn't consider it to be that serious, and didn't think much more of the comment. A few nights later I saw a clip of her on television, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Here is a girl who was thrust into stardom at a young age, had the whole world following her every move, and simply could not handle it. Many stars turn to drugs and alcohol as a way of coping, and it seemed as though she had fallen into the same trap. Poor Britney.
My opinions have since then changed. Because of Britney's idea to shave her head, my life and my battle with one of the many devastating aspects of this disease has been made one hundred times more difficult. Complete hairloss, as I have mentioned so many times before, can be extremely devastating to many people who undergo chemotherapy. In fact, it is usually one of the things women dread the most about chemotherapy. As a cancer patient, I have learned ways of using hairloss to my advantage and dealing with it as best I can. However, my attempts to deal with it have become trivialized because of what Britney Spears has done. Now I am left to deal with people screaming at me when I go to hockey games because they feel that I am trying to be like a star that many people believe to be a lunatic and a drug attict. I'm sure there are many other women out there who are being mocked because of this as well.
If Britney shaved her head for a purpose, as did Sinead O'Connor (for political reasons) or Natalie Portman (for a film) or others who have shaved their heads in order to donate their hair or for other reasons, then this would be much more acceptable. But she did this for attention, and in doing so she has drawn a great deal of negative attention to me and many other people who have been unwillingly thrust into complete hairloss from things beyond our control.
Although I do believe that people should do whatever it is that makes them happy, and although I normally would never pay attention to something that seems so petty, this issue has become very real and very serious for me.
What are your opinions about the Britney ordeal?
When I first heard the news that Britney Spears shaved her head I couldn't help but let out a chuckle, simply because I find Hollywood so rediculous sometimes-- I often think some of these people will do absolutely anything for attention. Mike mentioned that he thought she was trivializing something serious which many women are forced into experiencing because of diseases like cancer. I really didn't consider it to be that serious, and didn't think much more of the comment. A few nights later I saw a clip of her on television, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Here is a girl who was thrust into stardom at a young age, had the whole world following her every move, and simply could not handle it. Many stars turn to drugs and alcohol as a way of coping, and it seemed as though she had fallen into the same trap. Poor Britney.
My opinions have since then changed. Because of Britney's idea to shave her head, my life and my battle with one of the many devastating aspects of this disease has been made one hundred times more difficult. Complete hairloss, as I have mentioned so many times before, can be extremely devastating to many people who undergo chemotherapy. In fact, it is usually one of the things women dread the most about chemotherapy. As a cancer patient, I have learned ways of using hairloss to my advantage and dealing with it as best I can. However, my attempts to deal with it have become trivialized because of what Britney Spears has done. Now I am left to deal with people screaming at me when I go to hockey games because they feel that I am trying to be like a star that many people believe to be a lunatic and a drug attict. I'm sure there are many other women out there who are being mocked because of this as well.
If Britney shaved her head for a purpose, as did Sinead O'Connor (for political reasons) or Natalie Portman (for a film) or others who have shaved their heads in order to donate their hair or for other reasons, then this would be much more acceptable. But she did this for attention, and in doing so she has drawn a great deal of negative attention to me and many other people who have been unwillingly thrust into complete hairloss from things beyond our control.
Although I do believe that people should do whatever it is that makes them happy, and although I normally would never pay attention to something that seems so petty, this issue has become very real and very serious for me.
What are your opinions about the Britney ordeal?
Sunday, March 25, 2007
My Gastroscopic Experience
March 20th arrived quickly and, although nervous about receiving my first gastroscopic, I readily welcomed the opportunity to discover what has been ailing this poor stomach of mine over the past seven or eight years.
The ordeal began the night before: no food or drink after midnight. I have found this to be one of the true pains about many medical tests. The worst part about this one was that my appointment wasn't until 2pm the next day. I knew it would be difficult to get through both the morning and afternoon without a drop of water or a bite to eat (especially when an empty stomach seems to be the strongest trigger for my stomach pain).
By the time I arrived at the hospital the next day I was absolutely starving. All the nervousness I previously experienced about the procedure was soon overcome by the overwhelming urge to eat. I now anxiously awaited the procedure (and the meal that was to follow!).
The nurse called me in at 2pm to ask some routine questions, take blood pressure, and get me into my favorite outfit -- the jonny shirt. What I wasn't expecting was an intravenous needle (How did I not think of this???). I cursed the nurse in my mind. I thought that chemo would mean the end of IVs for a while! I only managed to escape 5 weeks without any needles?
I sucked it up. I had to. So, after some pitiful arguments with myself and some serious labouring with that dreaded needle on the nurse's behalf, the IV was finally put in place.
I was soon taken into a day surgery room, where I was met by Dr. Butler and a very upbeat nurse who welcomed me and directed me to lay on the hospital bed. The nurse assured me that this procedure would be a "piece of cake" and that the worst part about it all would be the Xylocaine that would be sprayed in the back of my throat. Xylocaine is a local anesthetic which, in this case, is sprayed in the back of the throat to numb the area and thereby prevent gagging and coughing when the tube is inserted. The nurse warned me that the spray tasted absolutely horrible and not to panic when my throat became numb--it may feel swollen but it really is not.
I took a deep breath and hung on to the side of the bed as she approached me with the spray: "Open up!" She sprayed 10 sprays into the back of my throat. Horrible was not the word to describe this taste. Disguisting, revolting, stomach-churning. I gagged and I could feel every muscle in my face twist and turn. The nurse copied my expression and looked as though she felt sorry for me: "We need to do that two more times." Two more times? Ahhh! "Don't worry it gets easier each time," she explained. She came at me with ten more quirts of that putrid stuff. And then ten times once again. After 30 squirts of xylocaine, my throat was completely numb. I did not like the resulting feeling, however: swallowing became difficult and my throat felt extremely swollen. I looked at Dr. Butler and blurted: "I am not enjoying this sensation ONE BIT!" He looked at me in a very nonchalant manner and replied: "Yes, I know. I had this procedure done and I really didn't like that sensation either. It almost feels as though your airways are constricted." Airways constricted. Yes, that is the sensation. Oh no. I cannot breathe!
I began to panic. Suddenly that miserable experience I endured in November came rushing back to me. I remembered my face tightening up, my jaw locking, my teeth clenching, and the muscles in my mouth and tongue spasming--I felt as though I couldn't swallow or breathe. The numb sensation the Xylocaine produced caused a very similar feeling. Put me out, put me out, put me out. I want to be asleep!
Within 3 or 4 minutes (which seemed like an eternity at the time), the nurse told me to roll over on my side: "Now for the best part of this procedure: the drugs!" She laughed as she came toward me with a needle full of anesthetic/ sedative. She pumped drugs into my intravenous tube and I could instantly feel myself becoming sleepy. Dr. Butler came toward me and said: "Melanie I am just going to place this tube in your mouth and when I say 'swallow' I want you to swallow okay?" "Okay," I replied. Everything went black.
The next thing I remember was feeling the tube wiggling around in my throat. It didn't hurt and I didn't care. I just remember feeling it very briefly and then feeling Dr. Butler pulling it out of my throat. It seemed to me as though I 'came to' in perfect time. Just as he pulled the tube out of my throat it was as though I awoke and bounced up, not remembering a single thing. Cool! "So what did you find?" I asked. "There was some esophageal erosion." Some time passed, although I cannot tell you how much. I repeated: "So there were no ulcers?" "Nope. Just some erosion of the esophagus. What medications did you say you have tried?" I told him I tried Zantac, Losec, Pantaloc, and Pariet. I suggested that Nexium may be a good choice, as I heard it has worked wonders for many people and I hadn't yet tried it. He quickly agreed to prescribe Nexium and told me to go to his office and pick up six weeks worth.
The rest of the day (including anything else the doctor may have told me after the endoscopy) was a complete blur. It seemed as though as each moment occured to me I felt absolutely normal (maybe a little more upbeat and happy). However, as each hour passed, I seemed to forget the last. I kept repeating to myself: Did I do that? DId that actually happen or was I dreaming? What did I do all day? The drug created a very bizarre amnesiac-like experience which remained with me for at least four hours after it was administered.
So, the experience was funny and rather bizarre, more than anything. I can assure any of you who have to undergo this procedure that it is really nothing to worry about. It's a "piece of cake" and may even give you something to laugh about a little later.
The best thing about having the procedure done for me is the reassurance that I have a treatable illness (no cancer) and that I finally know exactly what it is that has been causing me so much pain over the years: erosion of the esophagus. Although I can remember nothing of what Dr. Butler told me about my condition (besides the fact that it is esophageal erosion), I have done a small amount of research to feed my curiosity until I meet with Dr. Butler again in six weeks. I learned that the "esophageal erosion" Dr.Butler spoke of is actually refered to as "Esophagitis" and indicates a wearing away of the lining of the esophagus. This wearing away is most often caused by GERD (or acid reflux), where stomach acid is refluxed or pushed into the esophagus. This can cause inflammation, irritation, or erosion of the esophagus. Esophagitis occurs when GERD has become severe and it eventually leads to ulcers. Here's the scary part: approximately 10% of patients with eroded esophagus have a condition known as "Barret's Esophagus." This is an abnormal change in the cells of the esophagus caused by chronic exposure to acid, which may eventually lead to cancer (in a small number of patients). Eeeek. Let's just hope that those biopsy results don't come up with any abnormal cells!
To read more about Esophagitis, visit the following links:
The ordeal began the night before: no food or drink after midnight. I have found this to be one of the true pains about many medical tests. The worst part about this one was that my appointment wasn't until 2pm the next day. I knew it would be difficult to get through both the morning and afternoon without a drop of water or a bite to eat (especially when an empty stomach seems to be the strongest trigger for my stomach pain).
By the time I arrived at the hospital the next day I was absolutely starving. All the nervousness I previously experienced about the procedure was soon overcome by the overwhelming urge to eat. I now anxiously awaited the procedure (and the meal that was to follow!).
The nurse called me in at 2pm to ask some routine questions, take blood pressure, and get me into my favorite outfit -- the jonny shirt. What I wasn't expecting was an intravenous needle (How did I not think of this???). I cursed the nurse in my mind. I thought that chemo would mean the end of IVs for a while! I only managed to escape 5 weeks without any needles?
I sucked it up. I had to. So, after some pitiful arguments with myself and some serious labouring with that dreaded needle on the nurse's behalf, the IV was finally put in place.
I was soon taken into a day surgery room, where I was met by Dr. Butler and a very upbeat nurse who welcomed me and directed me to lay on the hospital bed. The nurse assured me that this procedure would be a "piece of cake" and that the worst part about it all would be the Xylocaine that would be sprayed in the back of my throat. Xylocaine is a local anesthetic which, in this case, is sprayed in the back of the throat to numb the area and thereby prevent gagging and coughing when the tube is inserted. The nurse warned me that the spray tasted absolutely horrible and not to panic when my throat became numb--it may feel swollen but it really is not.
I took a deep breath and hung on to the side of the bed as she approached me with the spray: "Open up!" She sprayed 10 sprays into the back of my throat. Horrible was not the word to describe this taste. Disguisting, revolting, stomach-churning. I gagged and I could feel every muscle in my face twist and turn. The nurse copied my expression and looked as though she felt sorry for me: "We need to do that two more times." Two more times? Ahhh! "Don't worry it gets easier each time," she explained. She came at me with ten more quirts of that putrid stuff. And then ten times once again. After 30 squirts of xylocaine, my throat was completely numb. I did not like the resulting feeling, however: swallowing became difficult and my throat felt extremely swollen. I looked at Dr. Butler and blurted: "I am not enjoying this sensation ONE BIT!" He looked at me in a very nonchalant manner and replied: "Yes, I know. I had this procedure done and I really didn't like that sensation either. It almost feels as though your airways are constricted." Airways constricted. Yes, that is the sensation. Oh no. I cannot breathe!
I began to panic. Suddenly that miserable experience I endured in November came rushing back to me. I remembered my face tightening up, my jaw locking, my teeth clenching, and the muscles in my mouth and tongue spasming--I felt as though I couldn't swallow or breathe. The numb sensation the Xylocaine produced caused a very similar feeling. Put me out, put me out, put me out. I want to be asleep!
Within 3 or 4 minutes (which seemed like an eternity at the time), the nurse told me to roll over on my side: "Now for the best part of this procedure: the drugs!" She laughed as she came toward me with a needle full of anesthetic/ sedative. She pumped drugs into my intravenous tube and I could instantly feel myself becoming sleepy. Dr. Butler came toward me and said: "Melanie I am just going to place this tube in your mouth and when I say 'swallow' I want you to swallow okay?" "Okay," I replied. Everything went black.
The next thing I remember was feeling the tube wiggling around in my throat. It didn't hurt and I didn't care. I just remember feeling it very briefly and then feeling Dr. Butler pulling it out of my throat. It seemed to me as though I 'came to' in perfect time. Just as he pulled the tube out of my throat it was as though I awoke and bounced up, not remembering a single thing. Cool! "So what did you find?" I asked. "There was some esophageal erosion." Some time passed, although I cannot tell you how much. I repeated: "So there were no ulcers?" "Nope. Just some erosion of the esophagus. What medications did you say you have tried?" I told him I tried Zantac, Losec, Pantaloc, and Pariet. I suggested that Nexium may be a good choice, as I heard it has worked wonders for many people and I hadn't yet tried it. He quickly agreed to prescribe Nexium and told me to go to his office and pick up six weeks worth.
The rest of the day (including anything else the doctor may have told me after the endoscopy) was a complete blur. It seemed as though as each moment occured to me I felt absolutely normal (maybe a little more upbeat and happy). However, as each hour passed, I seemed to forget the last. I kept repeating to myself: Did I do that? DId that actually happen or was I dreaming? What did I do all day? The drug created a very bizarre amnesiac-like experience which remained with me for at least four hours after it was administered.
So, the experience was funny and rather bizarre, more than anything. I can assure any of you who have to undergo this procedure that it is really nothing to worry about. It's a "piece of cake" and may even give you something to laugh about a little later.
The best thing about having the procedure done for me is the reassurance that I have a treatable illness (no cancer) and that I finally know exactly what it is that has been causing me so much pain over the years: erosion of the esophagus. Although I can remember nothing of what Dr. Butler told me about my condition (besides the fact that it is esophageal erosion), I have done a small amount of research to feed my curiosity until I meet with Dr. Butler again in six weeks. I learned that the "esophageal erosion" Dr.Butler spoke of is actually refered to as "Esophagitis" and indicates a wearing away of the lining of the esophagus. This wearing away is most often caused by GERD (or acid reflux), where stomach acid is refluxed or pushed into the esophagus. This can cause inflammation, irritation, or erosion of the esophagus. Esophagitis occurs when GERD has become severe and it eventually leads to ulcers. Here's the scary part: approximately 10% of patients with eroded esophagus have a condition known as "Barret's Esophagus." This is an abnormal change in the cells of the esophagus caused by chronic exposure to acid, which may eventually lead to cancer (in a small number of patients). Eeeek. Let's just hope that those biopsy results don't come up with any abnormal cells!
To read more about Esophagitis, visit the following links:
- http://www.webmd.com/heartburn-gerd/tc/Gastroesophageal-Reflux-Disease-GERD-What-Happens
- http://www.webmd.com/hw-popup/Esophageal-erosion-and-ulcers-caused-by-GERD
To read more about Barret's Esophagus, visit the following links:
- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barrett%27s_esophagus
- http://digestive.niddk.nih.gov/ddiseases/pubs/barretts/index.htm
Dr. Butler has prescribed me with a proton pump inhibitor called Nexium to deal with acid production in my stomach. Nexium basically works to decrease the amount of acid produced in the stomach. Nexium can heal erosive esophagitis in 4-8 weeks. I will take Nexium for six weeks and then meet with Dr. Butler to discuss whether or not it was successful and where to go from there.
Until next time ...
Thursday, March 15, 2007
A little progress!
It's 6 weeks post-chemo and I'm finally starting to notice considerable progress with the hair growth. As you can see from the pictures below, my head is now almost completely covered with thick fuzz. Although many people say that the hair often grows back thicker, curlier, and a different shade than before, it appears thus far that I may be keeping my blonde locks afterall. The hair looks to be a dark shade of blonde ... it's impossible to tell whether it will be thicker or curlier yet, but I'll keep you posted!
Monday, March 12, 2007
RealTime Cancer
A "survivor profile" has recently been added about me on the website "Real Time Cancer." Real Time Cancer is a site designed for young adults aged 15-30 who are dealing with cancer. Young adults from around the country get together and share their stories, write articles, and participate in discussion boards dealing with the unique issues that face young people who are dealing with cancer (whether you are diagnosed or are a supporter of someone who was diagnosed). RealTime cancer also organizes retreats called "Retreat Yourself" which give young cancer survivors and their supporters a chance to come together and also to learn valuable coping skills. RealTime Cancer also distributes a newsletter to hospitals, schools, and business environments to let the general public know that the program is available.
Being diagnosed with cancer as a young adult presents unique challenges. Cancer is different when you are young. Issues like dating, friendships, fertility, and finances take on a whole new meaning. If you are a young cancer survivor, you are likely facing some tough challenges like these. RealTime Cancer is place you can go to feel that there are others who understand what you are going through.
To visit the RealTime Cancer website, click here.
To read my Survivor Profile, click here.
Being diagnosed with cancer as a young adult presents unique challenges. Cancer is different when you are young. Issues like dating, friendships, fertility, and finances take on a whole new meaning. If you are a young cancer survivor, you are likely facing some tough challenges like these. RealTime Cancer is place you can go to feel that there are others who understand what you are going through.
To visit the RealTime Cancer website, click here.
To read my Survivor Profile, click here.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Inhibition, Inspiration, and Ignorance
Losing my hair, as I spoke about so many times before, was definitely a challenging aspect of my battle with cancer. As a woman, and especially a young woman, hair becomes connected with femininity, attractiveness, and identity. So, losing that part of yourself can be extremely devastating. I found that becoming mentally prepared for hair loss made it much easier to cope with. I checked out pictures of people with buzzed cuts and hairless, ordered wigs and bought new hats, researched hairloss (i.e. when it happens, when it grows back, how it grows back, etc.), and tried to picture myself as a bald woman to get used to the idea of it. I discovered that when I actually shaved my head, losing my hair was much less difficult then I imagined. Not only was I was completely ready for it, but I thought the look was fun and different and I knew it would only be shortlived. I also looked at my loss of hair as a chance for me to experiment with my looks much more than I ever would have.
To my surprise, however, being hairless seemed to become more difficult for me as time passed, rather than becoming easier. As I attempted to regain my 'normal' life and move on after chemotherapy, I couldn't help but be continuously reminded about my lack of hair. Being hairless is a reminder to you and everyone else that you had/ have cancer. It is impossible to feel normal when you look in the mirror and see a cancer patient looking back at you. It is impossible to feel normal when you go out in public only to be stared at by people who can't get over the fact that you have cancer or, as I'll explain later, can't understand the reasons why someone so young would have no hair.
For several weeks following my last chemotherapy treatment, I allowed my hairlessness to completely interfere with my ability to move on. I felt inhibited. I worried what other people were thinking of me. I had little confidence in how I looked. I avoided going places and if I did, I wore a wig or a hat which, in turn, often made me physically uncomfortable. Finally, I decided that this had gone too far. It was not fair for me to live this way. I wanted to move forward and I wanted to feel comfortable in doing so. Just as I began to come to this important realization, I came into contact with a young cancer survivor, Lindsay MacPhee, who I had added on "Facebook" (an internet 'friend network'). As I browsed through Lindsay's photos I noticed that she never once wore a wig while going through chemotherapy. In most of her photos she was completely bald, and looked completely confident AND absolutely beautiful. Seeing those photos gave me the extra push I needed to go out bald. I didn't feel so alone in doing it and I began to realize that bald can be attractive. I told Lindsey how gorgeous she looked bald and her reply was that she felt the sexiest she ever did when she was bald because she was fighting a battle and was therefore empowered. I thought this was an amazing positive perspective that I could totally benefit from adopting. Cancer is a tough fight and those waging in its war are tough, strong, and courageous ... this fight should be something we are proud of, not something we are ashamed of. Suddenly, I felt crazy for hiding my baldness. Lindsay inspired me to accept who I am and what I am going through and to be proud of myself.
The next step suddenly became easy. I pranced around in public for the first time without anything at all covering my head ... and I felt a true sense of liberation in doing so. First I went shopping, then for coffee, then bowling with friends. Each time I went out in public bald it became easier and I felt more and more liberated. I did notice stares, but then I reminded myself of what Lindsay had told me. I also reminded myself that it wasn't common for someone my age to have cancer, so people may want to take a look moreso out of shock than anything. I tried my best to go about my own business and block everyone else out. It worked. I felt amazing and suddenly became much more comfortable with baldness.
As I continued to take these essential steps, of course there would be obstacles. When bowling with my friends one evening, I noticed a lady who seemed to take a keen interest in me for the entire evening. As I mentioned earlier, I could understand that someone may be shocked and therefore want take a look at me, but I could not understand the persistent stares that seemed to radiate from this woman for the entire evening. I blocked her out and went about my business. I later learned that this lady was not staring at me because she felt sorry for me or because of her shock at my battle with cancer at such a young age. She had actually been whispering to people around her that I was trying to be like Britney Spears by shaving my head. Little did she know that my mother's friend was sitting next to her. This lady's ignorance was nipped in the bud quite quickly when my mother's friend informed her in a not-so-nice tone that I was actually battling cancer.
I didn't let this bother me. I felt more sorry for the lady and her blatant ignorance than for myself. I am only left to look at people like that and shake my head. I picked myself up and brushed myself off after hearing about this and went into a store just moments later ... bald. I minded my own business and did what I had to do. The next day, I was told by Mike's friend (whose sister was working at the store) that a man said: "Look at this one ... the next Britney Spears" as I walked out the door. This man was also taken by surprise, when one of the girls at the store told him to "get out!"
I feel sorry that people can be so rude and ignorant. I will not, however, allow such empty and thoughtless comments to get in the way of my dignity. I will continue to move forward with my head held high and with my confidence intact. These very heartless individuals will only make me want to do so more.
I will end this post with a very important message: never EVER judge. No matter what the circumstance may be ... you never know just what a person is going through or what makes a person do the things they do, act the way they act, or look the way they look. There is a reason behind everything. If you do insist on judging others, keep it to yourself. Making empty comments with no basis about other people may give you some sort of temporary satisfaction (for whatever reason), but it accomplishes nothing else but hurting other people.
"I won't back down!"
To my surprise, however, being hairless seemed to become more difficult for me as time passed, rather than becoming easier. As I attempted to regain my 'normal' life and move on after chemotherapy, I couldn't help but be continuously reminded about my lack of hair. Being hairless is a reminder to you and everyone else that you had/ have cancer. It is impossible to feel normal when you look in the mirror and see a cancer patient looking back at you. It is impossible to feel normal when you go out in public only to be stared at by people who can't get over the fact that you have cancer or, as I'll explain later, can't understand the reasons why someone so young would have no hair.
For several weeks following my last chemotherapy treatment, I allowed my hairlessness to completely interfere with my ability to move on. I felt inhibited. I worried what other people were thinking of me. I had little confidence in how I looked. I avoided going places and if I did, I wore a wig or a hat which, in turn, often made me physically uncomfortable. Finally, I decided that this had gone too far. It was not fair for me to live this way. I wanted to move forward and I wanted to feel comfortable in doing so. Just as I began to come to this important realization, I came into contact with a young cancer survivor, Lindsay MacPhee, who I had added on "Facebook" (an internet 'friend network'). As I browsed through Lindsay's photos I noticed that she never once wore a wig while going through chemotherapy. In most of her photos she was completely bald, and looked completely confident AND absolutely beautiful. Seeing those photos gave me the extra push I needed to go out bald. I didn't feel so alone in doing it and I began to realize that bald can be attractive. I told Lindsey how gorgeous she looked bald and her reply was that she felt the sexiest she ever did when she was bald because she was fighting a battle and was therefore empowered. I thought this was an amazing positive perspective that I could totally benefit from adopting. Cancer is a tough fight and those waging in its war are tough, strong, and courageous ... this fight should be something we are proud of, not something we are ashamed of. Suddenly, I felt crazy for hiding my baldness. Lindsay inspired me to accept who I am and what I am going through and to be proud of myself.
The next step suddenly became easy. I pranced around in public for the first time without anything at all covering my head ... and I felt a true sense of liberation in doing so. First I went shopping, then for coffee, then bowling with friends. Each time I went out in public bald it became easier and I felt more and more liberated. I did notice stares, but then I reminded myself of what Lindsay had told me. I also reminded myself that it wasn't common for someone my age to have cancer, so people may want to take a look moreso out of shock than anything. I tried my best to go about my own business and block everyone else out. It worked. I felt amazing and suddenly became much more comfortable with baldness.
As I continued to take these essential steps, of course there would be obstacles. When bowling with my friends one evening, I noticed a lady who seemed to take a keen interest in me for the entire evening. As I mentioned earlier, I could understand that someone may be shocked and therefore want take a look at me, but I could not understand the persistent stares that seemed to radiate from this woman for the entire evening. I blocked her out and went about my business. I later learned that this lady was not staring at me because she felt sorry for me or because of her shock at my battle with cancer at such a young age. She had actually been whispering to people around her that I was trying to be like Britney Spears by shaving my head. Little did she know that my mother's friend was sitting next to her. This lady's ignorance was nipped in the bud quite quickly when my mother's friend informed her in a not-so-nice tone that I was actually battling cancer.
I didn't let this bother me. I felt more sorry for the lady and her blatant ignorance than for myself. I am only left to look at people like that and shake my head. I picked myself up and brushed myself off after hearing about this and went into a store just moments later ... bald. I minded my own business and did what I had to do. The next day, I was told by Mike's friend (whose sister was working at the store) that a man said: "Look at this one ... the next Britney Spears" as I walked out the door. This man was also taken by surprise, when one of the girls at the store told him to "get out!"
I feel sorry that people can be so rude and ignorant. I will not, however, allow such empty and thoughtless comments to get in the way of my dignity. I will continue to move forward with my head held high and with my confidence intact. These very heartless individuals will only make me want to do so more.
I will end this post with a very important message: never EVER judge. No matter what the circumstance may be ... you never know just what a person is going through or what makes a person do the things they do, act the way they act, or look the way they look. There is a reason behind everything. If you do insist on judging others, keep it to yourself. Making empty comments with no basis about other people may give you some sort of temporary satisfaction (for whatever reason), but it accomplishes nothing else but hurting other people.
"I won't back down!"
Save Your Scissors ... For Someone Else's Skin
Since we are already on the topic of hairloss, I'll give you an update on the progress of my hair growth since completing chemo:
As I mentioned earlier, my hair was growing during treatments, but it was very sparce, fine, blonde hairs scattered throughout my scalp. Since I finished my last treatment, my hair has been growing slowly but surely and quite continously. As of now (my 5th week off of chemo) my whole head is covered in fuzz. It almost feels furry. It is thicker in some areas than others-- especially at the front and back of my head (not as thick on the sides). I have one very noticeable patch of thick hair at the very front ... it almost looks like I am growing bangs! My eyebrows and eyelashes did not fall out, but appear to be a slightly thinner than usual. Seeing my hair grow back so quickly and consistently at least gives me hope and reminds me that soon enough I will have hair again.
Other posts on hairloss:
Monday, March 05, 2007
No More Turning Away
I can't help but feel that this song has some extremely powerful messages:
On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we wont understand
Dont accept that whats happening
Is just a case of others suffering
Or you'll find that you're joining in
The turning away
Its a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting its shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we're all alone
In the dream of the proud
On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
Mesmerized as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night
No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
Its not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that therell be
No more turning away?
~Pink Floyd- "On the Turning Away" (from A Momentary Lapse of Reasoning)
(listen to it on the sidebar)
On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we wont understand
Dont accept that whats happening
Is just a case of others suffering
Or you'll find that you're joining in
The turning away
Its a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting its shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we're all alone
In the dream of the proud
On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
Mesmerized as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night
No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
Its not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that therell be
No more turning away?
~Pink Floyd- "On the Turning Away" (from A Momentary Lapse of Reasoning)
(listen to it on the sidebar)
Sunday, March 04, 2007
A "Gut" Feeling
Since I was 18 I have been plagued with stomach problems. Stomach problems have become so much a part of my life that I can predict exactly how it will feel and when it will happen ... or so I thought. Normally it occurs when I have an empty stomach, when I eat certain foods (like spicy or acidic foods), or when I am stressed or tired. I become overwhelmed with an awful pain in the upper abdomen, which feels almost as though I have been punched in the stomach (but instead of the pain being shortlived, it remains constant). My stomach feels raw, sore, and painful. The pain can last anywhere from an hour or so (if mild) to an entire day or a string of days even. Sometimes I have a bad bout of stomach pain followed by a period of weeks where I experience no pain at all. At one point in time the best cure for my misery was Gaviscon, an antacid in liquid form. This thick chalky drink coats the stomach and numbs the pain. This worked for me for years, but has recently been losing its effectiveness. I also find that laying down helps the pain tremendously ... sitting upright makes it worse.
In university I self-diagnosed myself with an ulcer. It had to be an ulcer. All the symptoms of an ulcer were there and my high-stress lifestyle could very well explain how they were brought on. Also, stomach problems run in the family. My mother, father, brother, grandmother, and cousin have all had some form of stomach ailment (from ulcers, to acid reflux or "heartburn" to hernias). So it was easy to make a self-diagnosis. Nonethless, when I was around 21 (after experiencing this for at least 2-3 years), I made my way to the Dalhousie medical clinic and brought it up with a doctor. She put me on Zantac (the least potent form of stomach medication) and suggested that I probably had acid reflux.
Another year passed and the pain persisted, however ... the Zantac did nothing for me. I decided to go back to the clinic once again. The doctor decided to then place me on a more potent form of stomach medication called Losec and had me tested for what is called the "H. Pylori bacteria." The H. Pylori bacteria is thought to reside in 2/3 of the world's population, but it may be asymptomatic (unnoticed) or symptomatic (meaning it causes an ulcer). It only becomes symptomatic, however, in 70% of those infected. A large majority of ulcers are caused from H-Pylori bacteria, which is thought to be passed on in families. Those ulcers rooted in it can be treated extremely quickly and effectively using a potent form of antibiotic. I was tested for the bacteria, but received no call back from the medical clinic, presumably because the test came back negative.
Another couple of years passed and I still experienced this dreadful pain. It had now become a part of my lifestyle--it was still, however, a part of my life that I could not endure. I, thus, went to my family doctor and once again explained my symptoms and all the medications I had been on thus far (this was in the early Summer, 2006). This doctor decided that the best medication was Pantaloc, a drug which not only relieves symptoms but also heals ulcers when taken for an extended period. She put me on this medication for 6 weeks. I found Pantaloc to be quite helpful in relieving my symptoms and I barely noticed any stomach irritation for several months. However, a couple of months following my 6-week administration of Pantaloc, the irritation showed up once again (this was around the time that I was diagnosed with breast cancer).
Since finishing chemotherapy, my stomach problems have become nearly out of control. As I sit here typing I feel the gnawing pain eating away at my stomach. I discussed this with Dr. MacCormick and Dr. Butler. Dr. Butler did a physical exam and said everything felt normal. He said that it was likely an ulcer caused by the H. Pylori bacteria, especially since stomach problems run in the family. He said that often times the bacteria goes undetected in blood tests and one may need to be tested more than once in order to discover it. So, H. Pylori is yet to be ruled out. Dr. Butler arranged for me to have a "scope" or gastroscopy and a stomach biopsy on March 20th. A gastroscopy is a procedure whereby a doctor places a long tube containing a sort of camera at its end through the mouth and into the stomach to see the inside of the stomach. From these tests, the doctors can hopefully get to the root of the problems I have been experiencing with my stomach for the past 7 years of my life.
The worst thing about all of this is the mental stress it has caused me the past little while. Over the past 2 weeks the pain has been extremely persistent. I think it may be the longest time I have ever experienced these pains without some break. The longest break I seem to get from it is a few hours. Why is it becoming so persistent? Recently I have become worried that I may have stomach cancer. What if there is a tumor in there that is causing the pain? What if I had stomach cancer all along and just thought it was an ulcer? I researched the symptoms of both ulcers and stomach cancer and found that the symptoms are almost identical. The only way of really knowing what you have is to be tested. My parents think I am being silly and that I most definitely have an ulcer. My doctor warned me previously that from now on every ailment I have will likely be taken much more seriously than it would have previously. There will always be that voice questioning whether or not it may be cancer.
All I can do is wait for another couple of weeks until I am able to get some answers. Let's cross our fingers and hope that it is just a treatable ulcer and nothing more.
Until then ... let me know if you've had any stomach problems (especially an ulcer) and what it felt like. Thanks!
In university I self-diagnosed myself with an ulcer. It had to be an ulcer. All the symptoms of an ulcer were there and my high-stress lifestyle could very well explain how they were brought on. Also, stomach problems run in the family. My mother, father, brother, grandmother, and cousin have all had some form of stomach ailment (from ulcers, to acid reflux or "heartburn" to hernias). So it was easy to make a self-diagnosis. Nonethless, when I was around 21 (after experiencing this for at least 2-3 years), I made my way to the Dalhousie medical clinic and brought it up with a doctor. She put me on Zantac (the least potent form of stomach medication) and suggested that I probably had acid reflux.
Another year passed and the pain persisted, however ... the Zantac did nothing for me. I decided to go back to the clinic once again. The doctor decided to then place me on a more potent form of stomach medication called Losec and had me tested for what is called the "H. Pylori bacteria." The H. Pylori bacteria is thought to reside in 2/3 of the world's population, but it may be asymptomatic (unnoticed) or symptomatic (meaning it causes an ulcer). It only becomes symptomatic, however, in 70% of those infected. A large majority of ulcers are caused from H-Pylori bacteria, which is thought to be passed on in families. Those ulcers rooted in it can be treated extremely quickly and effectively using a potent form of antibiotic. I was tested for the bacteria, but received no call back from the medical clinic, presumably because the test came back negative.
Another couple of years passed and I still experienced this dreadful pain. It had now become a part of my lifestyle--it was still, however, a part of my life that I could not endure. I, thus, went to my family doctor and once again explained my symptoms and all the medications I had been on thus far (this was in the early Summer, 2006). This doctor decided that the best medication was Pantaloc, a drug which not only relieves symptoms but also heals ulcers when taken for an extended period. She put me on this medication for 6 weeks. I found Pantaloc to be quite helpful in relieving my symptoms and I barely noticed any stomach irritation for several months. However, a couple of months following my 6-week administration of Pantaloc, the irritation showed up once again (this was around the time that I was diagnosed with breast cancer).
Since finishing chemotherapy, my stomach problems have become nearly out of control. As I sit here typing I feel the gnawing pain eating away at my stomach. I discussed this with Dr. MacCormick and Dr. Butler. Dr. Butler did a physical exam and said everything felt normal. He said that it was likely an ulcer caused by the H. Pylori bacteria, especially since stomach problems run in the family. He said that often times the bacteria goes undetected in blood tests and one may need to be tested more than once in order to discover it. So, H. Pylori is yet to be ruled out. Dr. Butler arranged for me to have a "scope" or gastroscopy and a stomach biopsy on March 20th. A gastroscopy is a procedure whereby a doctor places a long tube containing a sort of camera at its end through the mouth and into the stomach to see the inside of the stomach. From these tests, the doctors can hopefully get to the root of the problems I have been experiencing with my stomach for the past 7 years of my life.
The worst thing about all of this is the mental stress it has caused me the past little while. Over the past 2 weeks the pain has been extremely persistent. I think it may be the longest time I have ever experienced these pains without some break. The longest break I seem to get from it is a few hours. Why is it becoming so persistent? Recently I have become worried that I may have stomach cancer. What if there is a tumor in there that is causing the pain? What if I had stomach cancer all along and just thought it was an ulcer? I researched the symptoms of both ulcers and stomach cancer and found that the symptoms are almost identical. The only way of really knowing what you have is to be tested. My parents think I am being silly and that I most definitely have an ulcer. My doctor warned me previously that from now on every ailment I have will likely be taken much more seriously than it would have previously. There will always be that voice questioning whether or not it may be cancer.
All I can do is wait for another couple of weeks until I am able to get some answers. Let's cross our fingers and hope that it is just a treatable ulcer and nothing more.
Until then ... let me know if you've had any stomach problems (especially an ulcer) and what it felt like. Thanks!
Monday, February 26, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
On moving forward ... or something like that
It's Day 21 of my fourth and final chemotherapy treatment ... and boy do I have a lot to think about. I developed a serious case of tunnel vision throughout all of this. Since the very first day I was diagnosed, and especially since the very first day I began chemo, all I could think about was how happy I would be when it was all over. I passed each and every day away, striving with all I could for the end of all this mess. Was that a good idea? I'm sure people would have varying opinions on the matter. I do believe that spending all your time wishing for the future is merely a form of wasting your life away, but I also believe that in this particular situation tunnel vision became a tool that helped me to get through it all without 'cracking up' before it had a chance to end.
And here we are. At the end of the tunnel. Or is it? I expected much more of 'the end' (or the new beginning) than this that I am now experiencing. I guess I never really knew where the end of the tunnel would lead me, I simply knew that it could only be better than what I was experiencing thus far. Perhaps I trivialized moving forward--it is much more difficult than I ever imagined. Now that I am left to begin picking up the pieces of my shattered life, I am also left to wonder where I should begin.
I would like to get back into running and playing squash, but my nervousness about my current physical strength holds me back. Am I moving too quickly? I worry that I will be placing too much strain on my already weakened body. I joined the gym to begin weight training, but I also find myself nervous to go there in fear that, again, it may be too strenuous too soon. What if I faint or get sick there? My plans for getting back into physical activity in full force at 'the end of the tunnel' now seem jeopardized. It will not be as easy as I imagined ...
I would like to begin teaching again very much as well. I miss being around children and I miss the business of my previous life (although I never thought I would be saying this a year ago!). I was always such an active person ... constantly busy and 'on the go.' My recent house-ridden life has thrown my mind a huge curve ball. I'm not used to lazing around in boredom and, frankly, I do not enjoy it in the least. Children have always been a part of my life. I enjoy being around them-- their innocence and naivete gives me a fresh outlook on life. My ties with children were abruptly dismantled when all of this began. So, as you can imagine, teaching was also a big piece of the tunnel's end. However, now that I am "here," I wonder if it may be too soon for me to get back into the stressful and demanding work I once did. I planned to begin substitute teaching and offering private piano lessons in mid-March (following March break), but I have recently had various people warn me that I may be moving too fast. They say both my body AND my mind need lots of time to heal and rest after all they have been through. Now I wonder, should I begin teaching next month? Or will this jeopardize the healing process?
I would also very much like to pick my social life up where I left it when all this began. My life was once bustling with friendships and social events, but since hell broke loose, that part of my life was quickly put on hold. Now that I have been basically house-bound for over half a year, I find this difficult. I do not feel as though I am in the correct mindset for 'partying' and I happen to be in Cape Breton--home of pogy and beer (which means that this is what most people my age are interested in doing with their spare time). And, athough I thought this experience would bring me closer to friends, it actually managed to distance me from many people who I once considered best friends. This was not only because of my inability to go out and do most things that other people my age were doing, but also because of others' inability to accomodate my temporary disabilities. I have heard so many cancer survivors (especially my age) that say that many people whom they would have expected to be there for them just abandoned them during the most difficult time in their lives. The same rings true for me. It is difficult to understand how anyone could behave this way, but it also really allows you to see who your true friends are. Because of all this, however, I feel reluctant to rekindle some of those friendships and I'm left to shuffle through the remains.
Finally, I saw 'the end of the tunnel' as being the time when I would return to my normal life. But frankly, being hairless is making normalcy seem impossible. Although I am finished chemo, my hair has just begun showing signs of regrowth. I feel as though it will be a very long process that will make moving on very challenging. And I'll add a newsflash, my eyelashes HAVE begun thinning over the past week (so, approx. 2 weeks into the fourth chemo treatment). They have not completely fallen out, but they seem thinner than usual. My eyebrows still seem the same. But, if I lose my eyelashes and eyebrows completely it will make the process of moving on even more difficult for me.
So, I suppose the end of the tunnel is not as cut and dry as I once assumed it would be. The process of getting my life back is going to be a slow and sometimes painful one and will be almost as though I am gathering fallen pieces and slowly placing them back together. I will need to acquire as much patience and diligence as is humanly possible. My task now is to learn how to keep the tunnel vision that has gotten me this far, while at the same time learning not to waste my life away wishing and waiting for days to come. I really do not want to take anything for granted. I want to cherish everyday, even if it has its challenges. I feel that this will be the only way for me to really enjoy the process of moving forward.
Do you believe
In what you see?
Motionless wheel,
Nothing is real.
Wasting my time
In the waiting line.
Do you believe
In what you see?
...Zero7- In the Waiting Line...
(Listen to this song in the side panel)
And here we are. At the end of the tunnel. Or is it? I expected much more of 'the end' (or the new beginning) than this that I am now experiencing. I guess I never really knew where the end of the tunnel would lead me, I simply knew that it could only be better than what I was experiencing thus far. Perhaps I trivialized moving forward--it is much more difficult than I ever imagined. Now that I am left to begin picking up the pieces of my shattered life, I am also left to wonder where I should begin.
I would like to get back into running and playing squash, but my nervousness about my current physical strength holds me back. Am I moving too quickly? I worry that I will be placing too much strain on my already weakened body. I joined the gym to begin weight training, but I also find myself nervous to go there in fear that, again, it may be too strenuous too soon. What if I faint or get sick there? My plans for getting back into physical activity in full force at 'the end of the tunnel' now seem jeopardized. It will not be as easy as I imagined ...
I would like to begin teaching again very much as well. I miss being around children and I miss the business of my previous life (although I never thought I would be saying this a year ago!). I was always such an active person ... constantly busy and 'on the go.' My recent house-ridden life has thrown my mind a huge curve ball. I'm not used to lazing around in boredom and, frankly, I do not enjoy it in the least. Children have always been a part of my life. I enjoy being around them-- their innocence and naivete gives me a fresh outlook on life. My ties with children were abruptly dismantled when all of this began. So, as you can imagine, teaching was also a big piece of the tunnel's end. However, now that I am "here," I wonder if it may be too soon for me to get back into the stressful and demanding work I once did. I planned to begin substitute teaching and offering private piano lessons in mid-March (following March break), but I have recently had various people warn me that I may be moving too fast. They say both my body AND my mind need lots of time to heal and rest after all they have been through. Now I wonder, should I begin teaching next month? Or will this jeopardize the healing process?
I would also very much like to pick my social life up where I left it when all this began. My life was once bustling with friendships and social events, but since hell broke loose, that part of my life was quickly put on hold. Now that I have been basically house-bound for over half a year, I find this difficult. I do not feel as though I am in the correct mindset for 'partying' and I happen to be in Cape Breton--home of pogy and beer (which means that this is what most people my age are interested in doing with their spare time). And, athough I thought this experience would bring me closer to friends, it actually managed to distance me from many people who I once considered best friends. This was not only because of my inability to go out and do most things that other people my age were doing, but also because of others' inability to accomodate my temporary disabilities. I have heard so many cancer survivors (especially my age) that say that many people whom they would have expected to be there for them just abandoned them during the most difficult time in their lives. The same rings true for me. It is difficult to understand how anyone could behave this way, but it also really allows you to see who your true friends are. Because of all this, however, I feel reluctant to rekindle some of those friendships and I'm left to shuffle through the remains.
Finally, I saw 'the end of the tunnel' as being the time when I would return to my normal life. But frankly, being hairless is making normalcy seem impossible. Although I am finished chemo, my hair has just begun showing signs of regrowth. I feel as though it will be a very long process that will make moving on very challenging. And I'll add a newsflash, my eyelashes HAVE begun thinning over the past week (so, approx. 2 weeks into the fourth chemo treatment). They have not completely fallen out, but they seem thinner than usual. My eyebrows still seem the same. But, if I lose my eyelashes and eyebrows completely it will make the process of moving on even more difficult for me.
So, I suppose the end of the tunnel is not as cut and dry as I once assumed it would be. The process of getting my life back is going to be a slow and sometimes painful one and will be almost as though I am gathering fallen pieces and slowly placing them back together. I will need to acquire as much patience and diligence as is humanly possible. My task now is to learn how to keep the tunnel vision that has gotten me this far, while at the same time learning not to waste my life away wishing and waiting for days to come. I really do not want to take anything for granted. I want to cherish everyday, even if it has its challenges. I feel that this will be the only way for me to really enjoy the process of moving forward.
Do you believe
In what you see?
Motionless wheel,
Nothing is real.
Wasting my time
In the waiting line.
Do you believe
In what you see?
...Zero7- In the Waiting Line...
(Listen to this song in the side panel)
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