Monday, August 27, 2012

10 Things I Learned from People Who Survive Cancer

By Lissa Rankin MD

When I interviewed women who had survived breast cancer for my art project The Woman Inside, I noticed that they all had one remarkable thing in common.

They had all faced down death and decided to live every day like it might be their last. And then they all beat cancer.

The more interviews I did, the more I noticed that these women were living differently than most of the people I knew who had not been diagnosed with cancer. Here’s what I learned from those survivor women. Learning these lessons changed my life, and I hope they’ll change yours.

1. Be unapologetically YOU. People who survive cancer get feisty. They walk around bald in shopping malls and roll their eyes if people look at them funny. They say what they think. They laugh often. They don’t make excuses. They wear purple muumuus when they want to.

2. Don’t take shit from people. People who survive cancer stop trying to please everybody. They give up caring what everybody else thinks. If you might die in a year anyway (and every single one of us could), who gives a flip if your great aunt Gertrude is going to cut you out of her will unless you kiss her ass?

3. Learn to say no. People with cancer say no when they don’t feel like going to the gala. They avoid gatherings when they’d prefer to be alone. They don’t let themselves get pressured into doing things they really don’t want to do.

4. Get angry. Then get over it. People who survive cancer get in your face. They question you. They feel their anger. They refuse to be doormats. They demand respect. They feel it. Then they forgive. They let go. They surrender. They don’t stay pissed. They release resentment.

5. Don’t obsess about beauty. People who survive cancer no longer worry about whether they have perfect hair, whether their makeup looks spotless, or whether their boobs are perky enough. They’re happy just to have boobs (if they still do). They’re happy to be alive in their skin, even if it’s wrinkled.

6. Do it now. Stop deferring happiness. People who survive cancer realize that you can’t wait until you kick the bucket to do what you’re dying to do. Quit that soul-sucking job now. Leave that deadbeat husband. Prioritize joy. They live like they mean it.

7. Say “I love you” often. People who survive cancer leave no words left unspoken. You never know when your time is up. Don’t risk having someone you love not know it.

8. Take care of your body. People who survive cancer have a whole new appreciation for health. Those who haven’t been there may take it for granted. So stop smoking. Eat healthy. Drink in moderation. Maintain a healthy weight. Avoid putting toxic poisons in your God pod. Get enough sleep.

9. Prioritize freedom. People who survive cancer know that being a workaholic isn’t the answer. Money can’t buy health. Security doesn’t matter if you’re six feet under. Sixteen hours a day of being a stress monster is only going to make you sick. As Tim Ferriss writes in “The 4-Hour Workweek,” “Gold is getting old. The New Rich are those who abandon the deferred-life plan and create luxury lifestyles in the present using the currency of the New Rich: time and mobility.”

10. Take risks. People who survive cancer have faced their fear and told it to go to hell. They know life is for living. Fear is powerless. And joy lies in taking risks. So go skydiving if you want. Bungee jump. Hang glide. Spend your savings. Live like you might die tomorrow.

Are you doing these things? Or are you waiting for cancer to test out how much you want to live?

Don’t wait for cancer, my love. Don’t tempt the universe that way.

Be brave enough to live now.

Photo Credit: .imelda

Saturday, August 25, 2012

I Can Do All Things

Thank you for lifting me up in your prayers and for the notes and messages of love. I am, slowly but surely, beginning to feel better. I know I am better for having gone through this, and I am reminded so by the verse below:

"I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:12, 13 NLT)

Photo: Shamrocks born of bulbs my sister collected from my late grandmother's belongings:
"Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come."

Friday, August 24, 2012

Aphenphosmphobia

Oh the pain! Yes, I'm in terrible pain from this latest surgery, but it is more than that...it is a one year culmination of months and months of varying degrees of pain that I am feeling now.

Almost every time I have been touched by doctors, nurses, lab workers, etc., it has caused me pain, mostly pretty awful pain.

To put it simply, I have had an overexposure to excessive pokes, prods, pricks and surgeries, and to give you just a small example, it took the pre-op nurse 4 painful failed attempts with a big catheter needle before the anesthesiologist was successful at placing my IV prior to surgery.

Am I developing Aphenphosmphobia- a fear of being touched? No, not likely. But my increasing irritability at being touched is one odd and disconcerting side effect I was not counting on after going through all this stuff.

Even my cats have been banished from the bed...one rogue claw is about the last thing I can take. :(

Please pray for me.







Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Broken

It's the night before my next surgery on the road to reconstruction. Surgery will take about three hours and it will be my fifth one (counting my lumpectomies and mastectomy) with one more left to go in the process, about three months from now.

It is almost one year ago to the day that I found the lump that started all this. I'm so sick and tired of all the starts and stops, the pain and healing, and the regaining of strength only to lose it again.

The recovery time for this surgery is 4-6 weeks though I'm hoping I will be allowed to continue my daily walks...I've built up to about an hour a day and I'm really enjoying it!

Below is an excerpt from one of my favorite songs called Broken by Lifehouse. It has a lot of meaning for me, especially now.

Please keep me and my family in your prayers! Thank you.

"The Broken clock is a comfort
It helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow
From stealing all my time
And I am here still waiting
Though I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best
Like You've already figured out

I'm falling apart
I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
In the pain
There is healing
In Your name
I find meaning
So I'm holding on (I'm holdin on)(I'm holdin on)
I'm barely holding on to You

I'm hanging on another day
Just to see what, You will throw my way
And I'm hanging on, to the words You say
You said that I will, will be okay
The broken light on the freeway
Left me here alone
I may have lost my way now
But I haven't forgotten my way home" (Broken) Lifehouse

http://www.slack-time.com/music-video-4325-Lifehouse-Broken

Friday, August 17, 2012

Happy Birthday to me!

I have the body of a 48 year old...and thanks to cancer and chemo, I have the mind of an 80 year old and the boobs of a 20 year old!!

Monday, August 13, 2012

Cancer vs. College Applications

As my 17 year old son begins his senior year of high school, he is also preparing to begin his college applications, complete with essays, letters of recommendations, etc. Not to mention come face to face with not so distant looming deadlines.

It can be overwhelming (seems so more for me, not him) especially as this is our first to embark on this path. I have had to remind myself frequently that I battled cancer and went through chemo, so what are a half dozen college applications going to do to me that cancer could not??

For me, it's all about keeping things in perspective. I'm more than ready to put this past year of cancer and its affects behind me and get back to focusing on my family and being a mother full time again. But I would like to think our experience with cancer gave them perspective as well and better prepared them all (particularly my oldest son), for a life of both joy and adversity, for life in college, and worst case, for life without me.

I intend to enjoy every moment of this next year as my son prepares to graduate high school in less than 9 months time and go off to college at just about this time next year. It may seem like a long ways off for most, but it was just about this time last year when I found my lump and began a journey that would change us all for the rest of our lives.

I intend to not let stress and the rigors of the coming year dictate our lives. I will speak with encouragement often, I will give my love always, and I will never forget the reason why I must do those things every day...aw, yes, perspective.

"Watch your thoughts, they become words. Watch your words, they become actions. Watch your actions, they become habits. Watch your habits, they become your character. Watch your character, it becomes your destiny." ~Author Unknown

Sunday, August 5, 2012

You say Zometa...

I say Zo-NOT-a.

As expected and as warned by my oncologist, I got aches and flu like symptoms a little less than 24 hours after my Zometa infusion last Wednesday. What was not expected was three days of upwards of a fever of 102.9 with only brief and intermittent breaks. After my third night of a fever spike, I finally conceded it was time to go to the hospital.

Nothing like the joy of sitting in the ER waiting room late on a Saturday night near someone clutching a clear tupperware bowl and vomiting repeatedly - not to diminish her pain, but couldn't she have at least grabbed a solid bowl? If I hadn't been wearing a mask and pulling the strings on my sweatshirt hood so tight you could only see my nose, one would have seen the horror in my eyes as I moved away from her to the opposite end of the waiting room while Steve registered me.

I was admitted for having a FUKC (Fever of Un-Known Cause) see what I did there? ;) Once in a private room, I went through the usual diagnostics I've been through at least two other times before when I was admitted during my chemotherapy for FUKC's - blood draws (lots of it!), chest X-ray, urine, and IV fluids.

At around 3am the doctor told me there was a suspicious spot on my lung and while they weren't 100% certain, to be safe and cover all the bases, they would be treating me for pnuemonia. Odd, but that is one of the extremely rare side effects of Zometa.

By 4:30am, Steve and I were finally home and going to bed. I'm only up typing this now because my FUKC is back and I'm unable to sleep.

The good news is, after three days of staying in bed, a bed which is only 25 feet from my laundry room, I'm now down to my last load of dirty clothes and I can finally see my laundry room floor again. Why WAS I washing all those vacation clothes anyway - I don't remember going on vacation?

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Zometa is Taxol's Evil Sister

11:29 AM Thursday, the morning after receiving the Zometa infusion.

After a full month of starting to feel better, the Zometa has knocked me back to the awful memory and pain of getting Taxol again. I'm reminded that at this moment, if I my cancer came back, I would not go through chemotherapy again.

I try to remember what it felt like in Hawaii, the ocean beside me, sipping iced tea...my memory betrays me and I can only think of pain and suffering because at the moment, I can only feel pain and suffering.

And still, my laundry taunts me, letting me know it waits for no one.

Curse you cancer!

Even my cats are worried.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Laundry and Dentists and Dead Rats, Oh My!

Vacations have a way of ending too soon for me, but after 10 days in Hawaii, I found myself rested and ready to take on my next surgery in 3 weeks...until we arrived home and experienced the following events in orderly succession:

First, after a long day of travel and apparently 90 degree heat in California, we came home to the smell of a morgue without refrigeration...a rat had chewed through the vent in our crawl space, found its way onto an old trap, and expired - approximately 5 days ago! (Note: By the days end, Mr. Rat will be removed and given a proper burial in the garbage can).

Next, I unpacked and piled high about 5 loads of dirty laundry...for a moment I wondered what smelled worse - the dead rat or the laundry!

After that, I had my pre-op appointment followed by a visit to my oncologist for my Lupron shot and Zometa infusion - flu like symptoms to follow shortly!

Upon leaving the oncologist, I gathered up my toothless young son and went to the dentist to have his fractured permanent teeth repaired, albeit quite likely only temporarily.

Last, but not least, I visited my friend in the hospital - she underwent a double mastectomy yesterday, and I am reminded of how much I despise cancer and its evil ways. I'm pleased to find my friend resting comfortably for now.

Yes, it was a long and tiring day, and as I lay down to rest, my laundry pile is taunting me, seemingly multiplying before my eyes.

And I thank God for the blessing of a somewhat normal, somewhat abnormal, but mostly busy day....