Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Relief

What a relief to hear my radiation oncologist say, "No, I wouldn't do a bone scan." She assured me that the pains I've been feeling are perfectly within the parameters of my treatment timetable. (The worst effects of radiation happen after the last treatment.  That's why they schedule a follow-up appointment six weeks out.)

When she told me that I was being officially discharged, my stomach dropped momentarily. But then I realized that I was being handed back over to my medical oncologist and primary care physician for regular check-ups. Whew! I'm not on my own yet.

In the evening I attended a teaching session on living through and beyond cancer. I learned that I'm already considered a survivor! And I accepted the idea of being in surveillance mode. For at least the next five years, I'll be watched closely by several different medical practitioners. And I'll be paying attention to my own body; any abnormal symptoms that persist will be reported and checked out.

But for now, I'm ready to move forward!


Monday, November 18, 2013

The Black Hole

Yesterday I slipped into a black hole.  And it happened so gradually that I wasn’t even aware of what was going on until I was at the bottom.

I’ve been having these aches and pains:  my ribs, my collarbone, my hip, my knee (an after-effect from radiation?  too much running?).  Then, too, Sunday morning I was having  strange, tinny hot flashes that made me want to lie down and rest.

 I did lie down after church while my family fixed lunch.  And while resting, I decided to Google “blogs about breast cancer.” I came across one by Lisa Bonchek Adams, who is confronting breast cancer for the second time; this time it has metastasized and is stage IV. 

When I got up to eat lunch, all I could think about was Lisa’s story.  When I went back to rest again, I read more of her blog posts.  It was pretty deep stuff; I gave myself a time limit for reading so I wouldn’t go down a dark path all afternoon.

Then I decided to be brave and Google “rib pain after radiation.”  I was encouraged to read that many, many others have also experienced this.  But I still need to talk to my radiation oncologist about my own symptoms, and I’m concerned about what she’ll say.

Then, I decided to be even braver and Google “triple-negative breast cancer.”  This is my tumor’s status.  Since the cancer was not being fed by any of the female hormones, it cannot be targeted with hormone treatments.  Surgery, chemo, radiation and natural remedies are the only medical defense we have against recurrence.

After taking in all this info, my world seemed pretty dark. I felt scared, alone, and drowning in “what ifs.”  Lying there reading in bed wasn’t helping.  I needed to do something different.

Thankfully, I have a husband who likes to go on walks with me.  As we headed out into the dusky fall air, I began to unravel my emotions.  And I figured it out:  it’s the waiting.

When I was going through chemo and radiation, I knew we were doing something to fight the cancer.  I found security in my regular doctor’s appointments.  There were very real health issues to deal with, and we took it a day at a time (or tried to!).

When that was over, I breathed a sigh of relief.  I was ready to get on with life as usual.  But will it ever be normal again?

I still have regular doctor’s appointments to look forward to, although they’re more spaced out.  And I’m finding that they tend to make me more nervous.

For instance, right now I’m waiting for the results of my recent pap smear.  Several years ago, I had an atypical one; and though they’ve all been clear since then, I’ll breathe a bit easier after I hear that this one is clear, too.

And tomorrow I’ll be having a follow-up appointment with my radiation oncologist.  I’m looking forward to chatting with her, and I’ll mention my aches and pains.  I’m hoping she’ll give me the all-clear.  But what if she orders a bone scan?  Then I’ll be waiting again.

I’m comforted, though, by the knowledge that these emotions are perfectly normal.  According to what I’ve heard from many other cancer survivors, I’m right where I ought to be on this journey beyond cancer.  I’m doing what I can to be an advocate for my own health.  I’m trying not to worry.  I’m trying to focus on facts, not fears.  I’m reminding myself of Who’s in control.  And I'm finding that talking about it helps, too.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

She's Home!

Last evening, at 7:05 p.m., Lady Norma went Home to be with her Lord.  Her struggle with cancer is over.  She stepped into her Heavenly mansion, and is, no doubt, throwing a party!  And, while we grieve from down here, we also rejoice:  as believers in Jesus, we’ll meet again there someday.

I met Lady Norma less than a month ago, for the first time, on my birthday. In a way, she became my inspiration, my mentor for just a few hours.  We shared a mutual foe ~ cancer ~ and a mutual hope ~ Heaven.  In her testimony of unshakable faith, Lady Norma unknowingly gave me the title for my blog.

Her daughter shared this with her a few days later, and Lady Norma gave her stamp of approval to my “new assignment.”  I’m guessing she’ll be following ~ and cheering ~ from Heaven.  I will always feel indebted.

Sometimes our earthly lives intersect with others only momentarily.  We pray that those touches leave an eternal impression, as Lady Norma did on me.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Me, a runner?

I can’t believe I’m running again!  Actually, I can’t believe I’m running at all.

Greg has always been the athletic half of our union ~ wrestling, running, playing baseball and football.  Me?   I’ve tried the odd get-in-shape program here and there, but my preferred mode of exercise has almost always been walking.

When we were living in China in 2009 and Greg was training for a marathon, he encouraged me to run with him.  I can remember panting halfway around our apartment complex and growling, “I don’t understand how anyone can enjoy this!”

Enter Prevention magazine.  My mom gave me the July 2009 issue when we arrived back in North America that year.  When I read the article “Turn Your Walk into a Run,” I thought, I can do this, and started on the program right away.  I kept at it for several months and *gasp* found myself enjoying the run/walk days more than the walking days because I could go farther faster!

Sometimes my busy schedule derailed my exercise efforts.  Sometimes my body didn’t cooperate . . . plantar fasciitis, back pain, hip pain.  A physiotherapist told me he suspected that I had osteoarthritis.  When I asked, “Will I have to give up running?” I wanted to cry.  At that point, I knew I was a runner.  And I was . . . surprised.  His answer:  “That’s tricky.  It’s actually better to keep moving when you have arthritis; but you may want to take your running to a treadmill.  It’d be easier on your joints.” 

Not having a treadmill, I sought other, gentler places to run than a concrete sidewalk.  And I tried to find the perfect mix of running and walking to reap the most benefits with the least amount of pain.

Then breast cancer treatments stopped me in my tracks.  During chemotherapy, there were days when I could barely get out of bed before noon, much less take a walk.  There were days when I had to push myself to walk 10-20 minutes around the neighborhood.  But there were also weekends when I felt strong enough to walk for over an hour.  In fact, by God's grace, I walked my first 10K with my family one week after my second round of chemo!

The second half of chemotherapy brought different drugs and new side effects:  bone pain, muscle pain, joint pain.  My walking grew slower and more difficult.  My muscles were incredibly tight by the time I returned home, and stretching was painful.  But it was worth it.  It felt good just to get outside and to know I was giving my body what it needed.

I finished chemo at the end of July and started radiation at the end of August.  This meant traveling 30 minutes every Monday-Friday to the nearest cancer center for six weeks of treatments.  Fatigue seems to be the universal side effect of radiation, and I did require a rest time almost every day when I returned home.

But I was beginning to feel like myself again.  I was strong enough to drive alone to most of the treatments; and I took advantage of the fact that I was already out to plan a walk near the hospital either before or after almost every appointment.  We were blessed with an incredibly mild fall, and I looked forward to my daily dose of fresh air and exercise.

During the last three weeks of radiation, I began to feel stronger and stronger.  Nearly every day, it seemed like I had more energy than the day before.  I was surprised, and mentioned it to my radiation oncologist.  When I told her that I’d been walking regularly, she said, “Oh, walking is so good.” 

“For energy?”  I asked.

“For energy, mood . . .”   She rattled off several benefits of walking (I’m pretty sure one of them was weight loss).  And I knew I had to keep it up!

I had hoped that chemotherapy would help me drop some unwanted weight.  But hormone changes, steroids, and a topsy-turvy appetite actually resulted in a net gain of 10 pounds.  My medical team was not at all surprised, but I hated seeing that scale climb.  When I expressed my frustration to Greg, he graciously reminded me, “That’s not the battle you need to be fighting right now.”  And he was right.

But now that my treatments are over,  I’ve been told I can run again.  I’m ready to start my next battle.

So I recently pulled out my tattered copy of Prevention.  With a family member or two in tow, I’m turning my walk into a run again.   And it feels good. 

I thank God for the ability to walk (and run).  I thank God for the motivation to get going.  And although the scale still appears to be stuck, I feel better about myself, I’m getting stronger ~ and when I run, it clears the cobwebs and I can breathe again.  And that’s important, too.