The Big C and Me

Monday, April 8, 2013

SNAKES AND BREAST CANCER

DAY 8 of the WEGO #HAWMC asks: "If your health condition was an animal, what would it be?" A snake comes immediately to mind; specifically, a timber rattlesnake — aptly named C. Horridus. (I found that so apropos!)

This is a California rattler.

My 8 reasons why rattlesnakes remind me of breast cancer...

10 THOUGHTS ABOUT CANCER

DAY 6 dawns on the WEGO Health Activist Writer's Month Challenge. Last year, we were asked to write a letter to our 16-year-old selves. That was a toughie...

WRITING MY WORRY AWAY, DAY 5

I read an interesting article on the Huffington Post website yesterday that became the fire behind DAY 5 of my WEGO Health Activist Writers Month Challenge.

THE CHALLENGE: If time, money and physical restrictions were not an issue, what would my "plan" for breast cancer activism be? How would I direct my activist energies? My aspirations are rather simple. I want to write my way out of worry. And I want to show you how to work your worry away, too...

BREAST CANCER SURGERY TIPS

After my double mastectomy in February 2011, I compiled a list of things that helped me prepare both before and after surgery. I hit a nerve — it's my blog post with the greatest number of hits.

Some of these tips apply before your surgery, some during, and some afterwards. With some minor tweaks to update a few items (for example, I combined shopping tips and added a photography section), here are my TIPS ON HOW TO PREPARE FOR BREAST CANCER SURGERY. I hope it helps you or someone you know. Please feel free to share!

5 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT BREAST CANCER

Day 2 of the Wego Health Activist Writer's Month Challenge has dawned — and it's Introduction Day! That's when I share my encounter with Breast Cancer and the 5 things I want you to know about it.

1) My first blog post was about the mammogram that would change everything. Next, I wrote about hearing the words You Have Cancer (that's here), how I broke the news to my husband here, why we chose to keep it a secret here (and the lesson I learned from that here), and how I kept myself from going completely off-the-wall ballistic here and here.

2) And all that happened before a scalpel ever touched my skin. If you've ever had cancer (or been through it with someone close), you know exactly what I'm talking about. (I can hear your shaking head from here!) If you've recently been diagnosed, the above links will help you. A lot...

FEAR FACTOR, DAY 1

Today is Day 1 of the 2013 Health Activist Writer's Month Challenge (HAWMC). I took part in the challenge last year, too, so this is my second time at bat. The daily writing process last year was challenging and invigorating yet also very fun. My favorite part was bonding with other breast cancer bloggers. And I hope some of them will join me again this year! The HAWMC challenge forced me to write faster, and more frequently, and since I have trouble with both, it pushes me to be a better blogger. So I'm jumping in again and looking forward to where the month will lead! Let's get to it...

TO SUFFER & BE STRONG? SUBLIME!

To my many bloggy friends near and far who are seeking strength right now (no matter the reason or the season), I dug up some right fine wisdom from the right and honorable (and always inspiring) Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Though both of these poems may be familiar to many, I don't recall ever reading them before. When viewed through the veil of grief or cancer, they are especially poignant. Both were written in the 1830s.

OF FUNERALS AND FRIENDS

We had a death in the family. My husband's only sibling died suddenly three weeks ago. He was not young; he was not old. He was middle aged. And his death sent shock waves throughout the family.

Which reminded me that the rituals surrounding death, while varied, exist for a reason: Society has been following mourning rituals for thousands of years — because they work. No matter what those rituals are, they're important, and they're in place to help soften death's blow. These traditions have vast intrinsic value in helping to push us gently along our own pathways of grief...

ROBIN ROBERTS RETURNS

I got up early this morning to watch Robin Roberts' return to Good Morning America following her five-and-a-half-month hiatus.

For those not in the know, Robin was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2007 and underwent lumpectomy and chemotherapy. Unfortunately, in June of 2013, Robin announced she developed Myelodysplastic Syndrome (MDS) as a result of chemo. Treatment for Robin's MDS included more chemo — and a bone marrow transplant. But first, she needed to find a donor. She was fortunate to find a perfect match in her sister, who agreed to donate her healthy bone marrow to Robin...

A POETIC CANCER

I read a wonderful poem recently about cancer written by Maryland's poet laureate, Stanley Plumly, in the Los Angeles Times. I am struck by it's lyrical, imaginative and original nature, and inspired to write some poetry of mine own.

But not today.

Instead, allow me introduce you to...

I HATE CANCER

“Courage isn't having the strength to go on — it is going on when you don't have strength.” ―Napoleon Bonaparte

I just learned this morning that another blogging sister's cancer has returned: Kate over at The Adventures of OBB. Her husband posted the news this morning.

If you have a moment, please pop over and show her some love.

I hate cancer.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

IN MEMORIUM

Today is the one-year anniversary of the death of Rachel Cheetham Moro. There will be many tributes to Rachel in the blogosphere today...

RASHES AND SCARS AND CANCER, OH MY!

I saw this quote the other day, and in keeping with my last blog post (and subsequent discussion) about feeling invisible, I wanted to share. I'm working on getting rid of a few of my little monsters... ***In other news... if you haven't seen Breast Cancer? But Doctor... I Hate Pink! lately, please stop by and visit Ann's wonderful blog. She has written an important post about feeling abandoned; you can find that post here. ***And in still other news, I am seeing my plastic surgeon, Dr. C., this afternoon to show him my rash. Yes, the RASH...

FEELING INVISIBLE?

One of the reasons I love reading other cancer blogs is they remind me that I'm not alone in how I feel.

I comment on these blogs when I can, sometimes just a few words, but sometimes my sentences turn into missives. And that's when I know I've touched an internal nerve, the one that says, You have to blog about this!

That's what happened this morning. I was reading a new blog by Lisa Quintana, someone I discovered via the Facebook page of the ever-insightful Nancy's Point. Lisa blogs over at...

A FALLEN STAR

I am very saddened to hear that Debbi Chapman Dempsey passed away this past weekend.

Debbi and I connected via our breast cancer blogs. When I started mine in April 2011, I was writing into the ethers — until June 26, 2011. That's the day I received my very first comment on a blog post. And that comment was written by Debbi.

Since that day, I followed her blog (aptly named A Too Sassy Gal)...

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2013!

This marks the 82nd blog post I've written in 2012 (that's twice as many as I wrote in 2011). It's been a good and busy year, and while I have no idea what's in store for me in 2013, I can promise you this: I'll be writing about it. The good, the bad, the uncomfortable and, you betcha: The downright ugly.

This past year has made me reflect a great deal on breast cancer as a whole, and the many ways it taints the many lives it touches. Not just the patient, but ...

STILL NOT A GIFT

It's been a week since my last blog post, the one in which I answered the question of whether or not I think cancer is a gift.

Cancer is still not a gift.

A number of people commented on that blog post, including Ann, who blogs over at the incredible But Doctor... I Hate Pink — and for whom metastasis to her liver means she will never recover. She writes, "If breast cancer is a gift, I'm not exactly crazy about the wrapping paper. My 'gift' looks like a two year old wrapped it, then sat on it." Ann is funny that way. No matter what she is writing about, her pervasive humor seeps into every nook and cranny — every comma, every letter, every word.

But Ann also knows when to get serious, and does so in the rest of her reply...

CANCER? AIN'T NO GIFT

My blogging friend Nancy over at the always-insightful Nancy's Point is revisiting the ever-present query of whether or not cancer is a gift. That got me thinking. Is cancer a gift?

My Big Fat Cancer Adventure began two years ago, when I really did get Cancer for Christmas. But I'm not seeing that shimmer (or is it glimmer?) of warm and fuzzy light at the end of the proverbial cancer tunnel. Every time I round a bend on The Big C Highway, there's a new roadblock in my way, another hurdle to climb over, another hoop to jump through. It is never ending and, as the great Gilda Radner's Roseanne Roseannadanna character famously quipped, "It's always something."

But back to the concept of cancer being a "gift." Is cancer an opportunity to live your life differently? Yup. But don't we all have that option, every single day? (Yup.)

Is cancer a wakeup call? Yup. Like stepping into the path of an express train could be considered an eye-opening event, cancer stops us smack in our tracks. Many of us live to tell the tale; many of us do not. All of us are maimed. But am I thankful for the train that is trying to run me over? Nope.

Let's try a different analogy: Does the deer being hunted in the forest think the rifle is a gift? Nope.

I'm here to tell you that getting diagnosed with cancer is akin to having crosshairs tattooed on your back. You will forever be a target of The Big C. And like the deer, you will try very, very hard to outrun this enemy. You'll attack it with your arsenal of surgery and chemicals and radiation and years of hormone-surpressing pills. You'll fill an emotional moat with your tears. You'll find out all too quickly who your real friends are — and you will take this realization like a bullet to the heart. You'll need a nap every day and be unable to fend off your fears in the darkness of night. You'll experience "scanxiety" any time you have to take any kind of medical test. You'll develop PTSD whenever you walk into a doctor's office (especially at a cancer center) or when you notice a new ache or pain. Of course you'll become an expert on nutrition and additives and the many, many things that are harmful in our environment and you'll try to live a cleaner life. (Good luck with that.) You'll exercise less and eat more. (And then you will exercise more and eat less.) You'll pine for the days when you could remember details quickly, concentrate easily, and be motivated in general. You'll curse the necessity of being your own health advocate 24/7, and appreciate your hands-on WedMD degree. You'll wonder how the hell you ever had time to do anything besides go to the doctor and monitor your own health.

Because in the end, it all comes down to this: Cancer is hiding like a hunter in a blind deep within the woods, holding a loaded rifle with its sights set on you and me.

And that ain't no gift.

Friday, December 7, 2012

CANCERVERSARY NO. 2

Some things never change.

A year ago, I was dreading my first "cancerversary" and so relieved to find my feelings surrounding the date did not reach epic proportion (as I feared they would).

It's now been two years since I got "the call." And I've spent even less time thinking about my "cancerversary" this year than I did last year. Turns out December 8th — the day after the day that will live in infamy — still holds no charge for me.

Yes, it's been two years since I learned I had cancer. But it's also been five years since I lost my father to mesothelioma, the asbestos cancer he likely acquired while serving in the U.S. Navy during WWII. Rather than rewrite history, I'll save a few minutes (OK, hours) and repost what I typed in this space one year ago.

Instead of spending time blogging, I'll be spending the day with my mom, doing Christmasy type things, like decorating the tree. (Well, I'll be decorating the tree. She'll watch. So will my husband. Some things never change — and for that I am grateful.)

Here's my post from December 8th, 2011...

A FUNGUS AMONG US

We know I am a slow writer. But I'm also a slow healer — something I never knew until my bilateral mastectomy nearly 22 months ago. It's been one long, bloody (in the British sense) battle after another with this right (aka "problem child") boob of mine.

After struggling for months with delayed healing followed by the loss of my right tissue expander followed by the replacement of said expander followed by additional delayed healing, it goes without typing that I was greatly anticipating the surgery to exchange my tissue expanders for permanent implants. (Why do they make "exchange" sound so simple anyway, like going in for an oil change?) Turns out I was more afraid of this "exchange" surgery than any of the others. My butterflies felt more like...