Category Archives: Cancer

Cancer – notes, blog history information about my journey

Cancer Part One of Four

This post will be part one of four, where I discuss a few not fun facts, about a not fun thing I am dealing with, going through and otherwise choosing to learn, by necessity, in order to survive.

Time for a History lesson of me. In June 2016, it was determined, much as I had suspected for the few years prior, that the lump in my left breast was in fact cancer. I was initially diagnosed as Stage IV, as the cancer had metastasized to my lymph nodes already and was presumed to be elsewhere within my body yet undiagnosed.

Stage IV is the scariest stage to be diagnosed, because it effectively means that western medicine doesn’t have a “cure” they can sell you, and they are more concerned with keeping you alive as long as possible than anything else. This may sound a little bitter, but its more a realistic emotional reaction based upon my personal experiences.

Within a few more weeks of testing, a surgery to install a port, and my first “chemo” treatment. It was later Re-diagnosed as Stage 2. This means in humble people jaron free speak, western medicine has classed you as: “Good news, we think we can reasonable “cure” you, if you follow these toxic protocols we give you.”

Up until this point in June of 2016, I had never had surgery. I should not gloss over the fact that from the time of diagnosis, till the time of re-diagnosis, and beginning of my “stage 2 journey to healing”, I had undergone some of the most frightening experiences known to humanity. A mammogram, a biopsy, a surgery, a chemo treatment, a CT Scan, a Brain MRI, and so many doctors appointments, and planning and educations for all of the above, it hardly bares mentioning that my head, heart and soul, and that of my loved ones was still spinning.

My “protocol” was going to be 6 grueling treatments of chemotherapy, that were guaranteed to make my hair fall out, make my nails and skin brittle, risk possible permanent damage to all of my internal organs, as well as my skin. I was advised that once the treatments were finished, I would be referred to a surgeon for removal of my breast, reconstruction options, and then referred to a radiologist for irradiation of the reconstructed skin. I was not given options, no other details were discussed or reviewed, this was “the way it was to be”

I was educated on the fact that I was triple positive, a fact that was relayed as being a “super good thing” as it meant that there were hormonal suppression chemo drugs, I’d be taking for 18 months, that would prevent further outbreaks of the cancer in other areas of my body.

I was immediately put into flight or fight mode emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically. Having no time to breath and consider my options, having no recourse other than to follow the “experts” advise.

At no time was the “cause” or “root” of this problem identified. At no time was diet or best course discussed. When I asked the best diet for chemo, I was generally told “whatever I felt like eating”. This honestly somewhat made sense, since in addition to the mainline chemo drugs they were pumping through my port, they also subscribed steroids and 3 types of anti nausea meds, so it really didn’t matter much what I ate, since my body was so heavily medicated that my immune system had no hope of helping me out.

In addition to the medical rollercoaster ride I was now experiencing, there were three other “necessary” amusement “rides” for me to embrace during this time.

The first was my work. I had been working, for a company for many years, 12 plus years, and I was suddenly, incapable of returning to work. This caused a void in a routine in my life. I suddenly had more time to focus on how truly miserable I was feeling, with no daily satisfaction from the small things, at my job that had been satisfying for me. At this point, back in 2016 when all of this was occuring, there was no thought in my mind of “not” returning to work, it was not knowing when I would be able to return to work. This created a state of frustration both in myself, and I’m certain for my colleagues. The environments at businesses in our country, The United States, are such that perpetually we are overworking our staff. This greats better profit margins, but creates a tremendous amount of stress surrounding incidents where an employee is forced to go on a long term medical leave. I was a basket case. I felt horrible leaving my teams, my employees, my colleagues, in the lurch, to tend to this most vital thing, my health. As if this feeling of guilt, and responsibility weren’t enough, in order to financially provide some stability to my family, I needed to jump thru the hopes to get short term, long term, and extended disability – All of which, are by design intended to be excessively convoluted. These required a jobs worth of follow up to ensure that I was qualified, that the paperwork for my qualification had been filed by me, by my employer, by my doctor, and had been approved by multiple sources at the insurance company. This process has been ongoing, and judging by the number of hours I have spent thru this process, its not unlike having a job. I am truly grateful to have been “prepared” in such a way so as to have paid for disability “just in case” for years, for this incident. I am also grateful for the time of the nurses, and doctors (multiple) who had to spend some of their time, away from patients to file my claim information multiple times. This process was a nightmare, continues to be a nightmare, and is one that I dread over and over again.

The next of the amusement park of cancer that I had to experience, was sudden brutal realization that i was no longer on the elite outside of “I don’t have cancer” Now forever, I would be a “cancer survivor” which is basically what they call you once you are diagnosed until you are dead. You are a cancer survivor until you are dead. I was now a label. I have always been a label in my life. A white woman. An obese white woman. An over 30 non-college graduate woman. But now suddenly, I had this other label that would forever define me. A Cancer Survivor. This just didn’t seem acceptable. I fought against this. As anyone who knows me will tell you, when I feel something is unfair, I will be the first to stand up and ring the bells and cry foul. Well, I looked at this label and I said “Nah this ain’t me” and I did everything humanly possible to avoid having this label, for no real other reason than I didn’t want to have it.

But wait, there is more, there was another rollercoaster of emotion waiting for me to struggle to come to terms with during this personal war against cancer going on. This one was a little bit more insipid and mild all at the same time, wrapped up in a pretty bow, and was the most toxic fruit cake of all time. That of my family and friends. All well meaning, all well intentioned, all filled with their own worry, regret, concern, hopes, inspirations, well wishes, needs, and generally aspects of being human. Suddenly I went from being a rock for everyone else, to being expected to be a mountain for everyone else. It isn’t that they intended this to be the case, but its more that they had these expectations that I just couldn’t fill or fit. They wanted to be there fore me, to provide assistance to me, all in ways that I couldn’t figure out how or what to do with. How did this happen? What did I do to create this mess?

Stay tuned for Part 2 of my journey.

Tiny Bubbles

Hope Springs Eternal, has been an adage aptly applied to me my entire life, that is to say, I’m very good at being in a terrible situation, and finding the often unapparent bright side of it. I like happy endings. I live for them. I seek out inspirations daily for ways to bring happiness into less than bright places, finding light where there is very little or none.

Today, I went with my mom to a Yoga class, something I have been wanting to do since being diagnosed. I have a founders pass, which affords me the ability to attend classes, at any of the Yoga Yoga locations, and I can also bring a friend with me. While my mom is not the first person, truth be told she is one of the last, I’d have thought to go with me to these classes, she having her own health challenges at this time, making movement a challenge on the regular for her, and being unable to get down to the ground to do most of the poses. She however offered, and as I have been looking for a consistent person to be able to get me back and forth, I jumped at the chance. As expected, the class was incredible. It was just what I needed, I have been to this particular class in the past before, not often but it has always lifted my spirits, and aligned my mind, heart and body in just the correct way to allow me to remember the good things.

Today, I have my first session doing PT with S. I am both excited and apprehensive. I feel this will be a super positive inspiring thing for me to do, and will definitely align with my goals for progression, but I’m apprehensive that I won’t be able to do enough and she will become discouraged. While I recognize that these sessions are my time, and my compensation to her should be more than enough to dissuade any discouragement, its just something I am acutely aware of, particular at this present time.

It has never been an easy thing for me to crush someone else’s hope, as I strive so hard to inspire, that when the need or when I have been called to relay information that I knew would not be well received or would dampen someones spirit, it has always been extremely challenging for me. While I have done so, it has never felt quite right. I recognize that its a necessary part to play in the universal connectedness, some people must have these types of interactions in order to grow – myself included. Its just always made me very heart heavy when it was my turn to be the torch extinguisher.

I have alot of hopes riding on my upcoming trip to Seattle with R. We have a full itinerary mapped out, and I am going to need to work very hard these next few weeks in order to be sure my body will be up to the task of accomplishing this trip. Its very frequent right now that I feel super fatigued, and just exhausted.

There is also a visit scheduled this Friday at this place: https://www.kotsanisinstitute.com/ while my current doctor and medical team are unable to provide me with any hope for my condition, this place has the potential to offer me some alternatives to the regime I am currently on. They will also be supporting me in my diet shift. As soon as I was diagnosed I shifted my diet to a Ketogenic Diet, eliminating all processed and refined sugar from my diet, and restricting my carbs to lower carb vegetables exclusively. This was drastic, but it has had profound impacts on my overall health. I have since also solicited the involvement of my family and support team to do the same, as the energy and emotional support they provide, need to be from a pure and clean source as well.

It was quite eye opening to me, to recognize the fact that sugar is effectively poison to the body, while it is one potential source of fuel or energy, it is not the most efficient, nor is it the healthiest. It is the root cause of many disease, and the primary food source for all cancers. One of the first steps to starving cancer, and preventing its growth in your body is to eliminate all sugar from your diet. This has been echoed over and over in many of the books, articles and research studies I have read. It’s one of those lessons of information that I was not able to integrate into my mind a few years ago.

P and R have been great, we cleaned out our pantry and cabinets this week, and both were surprised at some of the things that had to go, due to having hidden sugar in them. Things we had least expected, like Italian Dressing… Vinegar and Oil right? Nope, Sugar was the fourth ingredient. Why, food industry do we need sugar in so many of these things?

Maybe this is something I will learn in my next life, as for this one, I’m just on the kick it to the curb bandwagon. No more sugar for me boys.

Expiration Dates

I remember, when I went into the doctor in January, the one I liked Dr. F, the surgeon who made me comfortable, and made me feel like a human being again. I remember her words, as she said “it looks like cancer to me” so matter of factly, I can hear her voice echoing in my head. I remember being angry, after seeing Dr J & Dr G to get confirmation that they – the “experts” didn’t believe it could possible be a return of the cancer. They provided me with reassurance, and I fell for it. I remember the relief of going to physical therapy – something I’ve done several times before in my life, and found value in. Something that had brought me comfort and relief in previous situations.

Going to the physical therapy, and feeling my condition, my overall health continue to diminish. Feeling like things were just not going the correct direction. Feeling like the changes I was making, struggling to move towards health were two steps backwards one step forward. Perpetually feeling like I was getting further and further away from the goal.

Feeling the pain begin to rise in my chest, feeling the aching and soreness become more and more frequent. Feeling it become more constant, feeling my meditation become less and less effective and diminishing the pain. Feeling my Reiki applications provide less and less comfort.

I remember the conversations with Dr M, her asking me “aren’t you afraid of the cancer coming back?” me answering her so matter-of-factly without any pause for thought “No, not at all……” and not realizing the impendingness of those dots.

I recall the feeling of anxiety at scheduling a follow up with Dr G after the pain had become constant, and none of my non medicinal efforts were having lasting enough effect for me to continue to get adequate sleep.  Having to stay up, until pure exhaustion, and finally deciding enough was enough, and going in to tell her that if this was normal for the diagnosis she provided, that it was time to discuss pain medication. Having her ask about doing a biopsy.

Waking from a nap the next day, after the biopsy, having missed a call with no voicemail from the doctor, and calling P to ask him, and him telling me that he was on the way home. Him telling me that we were going in to see Dr J, and that the biopsy confirmed that the cancer had returned.

Having Dr J explain to me that I had metastatic breast cancer, in a breast that wasn’t a breast at all, but a lump of reconstructed tissue where my breast had previously been, where the tumor of my former cancer had previously been. Having her order a Pet Scan, which further confirmed the worst, that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes, and to several of my bones. Having her effectively express to me that I now had an expiration date.

Thinking of myself as a small pint of cream in the fridge. I had an expiration date. I would no longer be here in short order.

I recall thinking to myself how very odd this feeling was, of both relief, to finally have confirmed that there was something truly wrong with me, instead of being given lip service to the idea that I was doing okay and getting better. The relief of the fact that knowing you are dying just means you know that you have less time to spend doing things you don’t enjoy doing, and can focus more on the things that matter.

In the words of a favorite character of mine from World of Warcraft, Chen Stormstout, “Family. Friends. Food. These are what matter most.”

P.O.P.S. – and other types of tools.

Anyone that knows me, or meets me for that matter, within a very short period of time, will likely learn that I think alot. This coupled with talking alot generally equal an extremely social person. This is not to say that I’m especially an extrovert, more what I’ve come to learn is ambivert, but that’s a subject for a different posting. This posting is about a thing I’ve been doing, going through and generally learning about and from.

Last year I was diagnosed with and subsequently treated for breast cancer. I’ve been struggling to come to peace with the fact that from a western medicine perspective, once you have cancer its like a permanent stigma that stays with you forever. Being unable to process and deal with this diagnosis, and reality, I decided to give my tumor a nickname and a code name as a coping mechanism. For me, life is about making things fun – and I sure as heck wasn’t going to have to deal with this without making it fun. So my Tumor was named: Purple Opportunistic Pirate Squirrel, or “POPS” for short.

It was and has been an intense year. I learned a great deal about myself, the limits I am actually capable of, of life and death, and of misery. Of human condition, and what matters. While its not a condition I would chose to experience again, it has been an enlightening journey, and I feel like I am a better stronger person now coming through the other side. I’m not finished yet, still have a few more treatments to go through, and then the building back the empire of me in the post-pops reality. That being said, I feel its is a good time to give pause and express a few things.

Gratitude. The many resources that creeped through my life over the past year, both emotionally, physically, spiritually, psychologically. There were many many down times, but there were also many unexpected up times. Amazing moments of Joy within the ample periods of growth and struggle.

Awe. This experience has been awe inspiring in many ways. Some of them in a light of disillusionment, disheartening, but also many of them in the sheer compassion of so many individuals. Inspirational in the compassion and drive and dedication to helping that so many people have afforded me throughout this experience.