$3,000

 The original title of Pretty Woman was $3,000.  No this blog post isn't about that. Its about a genetic test that I am going to have.  The photo is of  the mutated  BRCA gene.  Many breast cancer survivors have this gene.  It is a mutation of a gene that if you have it you have it and you have breast cancer you have a higher risk of having ovarian cancer.  I haven't had the test yet.  I called my oncologist to see if I have had it yet, and he said no.  He said I would have remembered having it because it costs about $3,000.  I thought, hahaha doc you haven't seen my medical bills, three grand is a drop in the bucket. 

 I have insurance, but it may not cover it.  Will I get the test if it isn't covered?  Yes.  Why would I want to put myself deeper in the hole financially for a simple blood test?  For one it would tell me if I am at a higher risk for other cancers.  Having gone through chemo once is enough thanks.  It was a long year going through treatment and I certainly don't want to do that again, and would do anything I can not to go through that again. 

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern standard time on www.wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com available on demand now.

Road Trippin'

  

 I had 2 doctors visits in one week.  That is unusual for me lately.  Both were routine follow ups from oncology and radiation oncology.  I didn't have the usual scanxiety that I usually have.  I had a mammogram just a month before and everything was normal, so I naturally assumed that neither doc would find any problems.

I like to drive.  Everywhere.  I drive more than Doug.  When I lived in LA that was part of my job, driving to set, from editorial to one of the post houses, mix stages etc. Most people get totally stressed in rush hour on the 101, the Hollywood Freeway.  I find it relaxing.  Yeah your not moving, but you can clear your mind and focus.

I would always drive to my doctor appointments, chemo, radiation, I think I even drove to surgery.  Most of the time after chemo I wasn't in any shape to drive, the drugs would knock me out (and no I didn't drive after my lumpectomy surgery, but apparently I called several people to tell them I was ok while I was still heavily medicated.  Wonder if that audio is still around.)

Monday I drove to the oncologist.  Driving to the hospital for what I knew would be a routine follow up brought a flood of memories to me.  Why I don't know.  I thought about the routine I would have for the day.  I would get my blood drawn out of my port at about 9am.  Hated that goddamn port. Looked like a fucking bottlecap under my skin, and it would hurt sometimes when I moved a certain way.   Go to work and produce The Vic McCarty Show for 2 hours, drive home.  Put lidocaine on my port and cover it with plastic wrap so it wouldn't rub off.  Lidocaine numbs the area.  I would see the oncologist.  he would go over my blood counts to make sure I was strong enough to do the chemo, then it was a short walk to the infusion center.  There were a couple of times that I forgot to put Lidocaine on my port and when they jabbed the syringe in me for the chemo  it hurt like hell for the entire treatment, which lasted anywhere from 1-3 hours, depending upon the meds.

I thought about how much I had been through.  Sometimes I can't believe it.  Its only been 3 years but it also feels like a lifetime ago.  I thought about how much Doug has been there for me. Every chemo, every radiation.  During chemo I would fall asleep  because of the meds and he would go to the cafeteria to get something to eat for himself.  He would come back with Lays potato chips for me.  They made me feel better when I was done.  I would groggily walk to the exit of the cancer center and Doug would get the car and pull it up so I wouldn't have to walk too far. 

During the drive to the doctor I wondered why I wasn't nervous or scared.  Was it because I was just too busy with work and advocacy?  Maybe I have just gotten to a place where I know I am going to be ok, and as my friend Donald Wilhelm would say "It is what it is." 

No its neither one of those things.  I don't know why the appointments didn't bother me.  I still don't.  It makes no sense.

Cancer still affects me.  Well the side effects do anyway.  The neuropathy that went away now comes and goes.  Like I need a fucking reminder that I had cancer.  It frustrates me that I still have it.  That when sometimes when I am doing pilates I can't feel my toes or part of my foot.  Kind of hard to focus on the poses and breathing when you aren't even sure where your foot it.  I know its where it should be.  I just can't fucking feel it.  Frustrating when the instructor asks you to move a part of your foot and you have no clue if you are or not.

And the damn depression.

Of all the side effects I have had I wish I could trade that one for something else, like you used to to with marbles or baseball cards when you were a kid? 

Hey I'll trade you depression for insomnia or chemobrain.

Shit.  I have both of those too. 

Nevermind..

Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com


Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes

Nothing to fear?

I have been thinking about this post for a while.  Something that all survivors think about, but don't want to talk about. Fear of recurrence.  I don't know ANY friends of mine that are survivors who don't think about this at least at least once. Mostly during times close to doctors appointments.  Yeah that's right I have an oncology appointment in about a week.  Although I don't expect anything bad, there is always that thought, what if?  What if it comes back?  What if the meds I took to get rid of my breast cancer caused some other cancer, yes, that's right, side effects of some of the chemo drugs are other cancers.  I can almost picture one of those happy commercials for Adrymicin/Cytoxan, (the chemo drug that made my pee turn red and made my hair fall out) with the family out for a picnic talking about A/C and happily discussing the potential liver disease and bladder cancer you could get as one of the possible side effects.

Whenever my docs explained the side effects and listed them off, I remember I said no thanks I don't want any of those, as if I had a choice of side effects, no thanks to the seizures, but I will take the chills, fever and hallucinations.

 Fear of recurrence.  It is real.  It is a side effect that I believe every cancer survivor gets, funny how its not on any list that I have seen.  It doesn't happen often, mostly near doctors appointments, especially if I get a scan or a blood test, or near the anniversary of when I was diagnosed, when I had my surgery or some similar cancer related event.    Even unrelated tests can make you nervous.  I remember when my docs office called with the results of my pap test I held my breath a little until the nurse said normal.

As another oncology appointment approaches the thought is in the back of my mind. The odds are in my favor for being cancer free, but there is always that what if?

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty show. Listen live Monday-Friday eastern standard time on wmktthetalkstation.com.

Check out my show The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com

Fearless????

I was planning on writing a blog about something else unrelated to this topic.  This one gets every survivor.

I was having a great day.  Just did a great radio interview. Had an awesome lunch with the crew from work.  My internet still isnt' working at home so I decided to check facebook on my phone.

Thats when I saw the post


Bad News.

My cancer is back.

Nothing sends shock waves through you like hearing or reading that.  Recurrance.  The scariest word a survivor can hear.

I posted something on her wall.  I told her I would help her out in any way I can.  I can't help her out financially.  Financially I am the Titanic and the iceberg is my debt.  Cant seem to steer clear of it.  I can help her emotionally.  Listen to her.  She is far away.  I can't hug her, or be there in person for her.  That makes me sad.

Quite frankly what she is going through scares the hell out of me.

A friend of mine recently called me fearless.

Now you know the one thing I fear the most.

Mel is the producer of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen Live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern on wmktthetalkstation.com 

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com available on demand and also available on Itunes.

Being Sick is Personal

Another Guest Blogger, Enjoy


If you’ve recently been diagnosed with cancer, or someone you know has, you’re about to
enter something you probably never knew existed: illness culture. As you can see by the
existence of this blog and the thousands of other cancer-specific sites on the Net, having an
illness is a huge part of people’s lives, and as such, it becomes a part of their self-identity.

In this way, illness culture resembles any other group with a defining characteristic in
common, just like people of a certain religion, or motorcycle enthusiasts, or a clique of
teenagers.

And while many find their particular illness culture to be supportive and helpful through
their struggle, some can become sick only to find that they don’t “fit in” in with the
main line of thinking or expression associated with their group. Barbara Ehrenreich, a
breast-cancer activist, discusses this issue in her great essay, “Welcome to Cancerland.”

In the essay, she confronts the predominant feelings and modes of dealing with cancer that
she encountered in breast cancer culture, and how she ultimately did not identify with
them. In her mind, breast cancer’s “cult of pink kitsch” was infantilizing and infuriatingly
positive.

Ehrenreich’s defining emotion about her cancer was anger—anger at the impersonal
treatment by her doctors, anger at drug companies for offering harsh treatments with little
benefits, and anger at her fellow breast cancer sufferers for being unwaveringly cheerful in
their battle with cancer.


My point here is not to knock keeping a positive outlook when ill. As reported in The Cancer
Warrior, staying positive can have great benefits for people fighting cancer. My point is
that, like any other type of groupthink, illness cultures can be single-minded, and those
who don’t fit into the current line of thinking can find themselves excluded and alone—this
on top of the fact that they are already facing a serious illness.

In the end, sickness is incredibly personal, and all types of reactions to illness and ways of
dealing with it should be actively welcomed. It’s important that those facing illness, and
their loved ones, recognize this and internalize it. While some may deal with cancer by
distracting themselves, others may need time to grieve over their situation—even to feel
sorry for themselves.

In America, self-pity is often regarded as the worst type of emotion; we live by the “pull
yourself up by the bootstraps” line of thinking. This aversion to self-pity and the endless
positivism seen in many illness cultures is unrealistic and doesn’t reflect the range of
emotions people feel when confronted with cancer. While staying positive is helpful, it’s
also okay to express emotions besides optimism.

If you’re dealing with cancer or supporting a loved one, remember that it is okay for sick
people to deal with their illness in their own way. Discouraging this is counterproductive
and even harmful.



In her essay, Ehrenreich recounts posting on a breast cancer forum about how fed up she
felt with her doctors, treatments, and insurance company. The responses to her negative
attitude were quick and judgmental: “I really dislike you having a bad attitude towards
all of this, but you do, and it’s not going to help you in the least,” said one commenter.

Support groups are supposed to be just that—supportive of one another’s struggle with
cancer, not dismissive or judgmental. People experience a range of emotions as they come
to deal with facing cancer on a daily basis. Realizing your own approach to illness and
accepting others’ is essential to creating an illness culture that helps, and doesn’t hurt, its
members.


About the guest blogger:

Joy Paley is a blogger for An Apple A Day and a writer specializing in medical coding for Guide
to Healthcare Schools.

WOW!!!! this blog was named one of the Top Ten Breast Cancer Blogs by Blogs.com

I guess people like what they are reading.  Funny, when I started this blog it was for cathartic purposes.  Having cancer is hard, the treatments are sometimes worse than the disease, and survivorship is the hardest of all.  I needed an outlet to vent how I felt and just talking about it wasn't helping, I mean therapy is very helpful for me, but usually when you are really upset it is not during therapy times, it is usually sometimes late at night when you are going through those times where you feel really sad and dark.  That is why I started blogging.

I am glad that what I write helps people. That is very rewarding.


Here is the link to the blog.com website:
http://www.blogs.com/topten/top-10-breast-cancer-blogs/

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern standard time on www.wmktthetalkstation.com.

Beautiful but deadly

The photo above is beautiful isn't it? Looks like it could be somewhere under the sea, but it is not. It is an enlarged photo of breast cancer cells. It was 2 years ago on September 18th at 1:07pm that I was told "It's cancer." It seems like so long ago, and sometimes it seems like only yesterday. On the evening before my 2 year "cancerversary" I pause to reflect.

There are some of times that I wonder why me? Why did I get this disease? Why did I have to go through all the chemo, radiation,surgery, hair loss, depression, sadness, anger, bullshit of this, having large amounts of medical bills to pay, which I will probably be paying off way until I am in my 60s, explaining to people what happened, having over 10 doctor appointments in a month, waiting sometimes at least a half hour for those doctors (which kind of drives me crazy but that could be a whole other blog) chemo brain, having my hair turn grey,having my skin feel scaly, having no appetite,insomnia, being so freaking tired I could sleep where I stand (I am sure they wouldn't appreciate that at the local grocery store or walmart) not being able to play hockey for 2 years.

Now most of you who know me and have read this blog know that I have kept a pretty positive attitude through all this, but some days it was impossible to do that.

2 years, 24 months, 730 Days. That is a long ass time. I have been through a lot in that time. More than some survivors I know, also less than some survivors I know. Some people have called me brave and courageous, I disagree with that. I just did what I had to do. I have read many other survivors opinions on this, some get angry when people call them brave or courageous, that what other choice did they have? I had one friend who didn't make that choice, who decided to wait until it was way too late, I blogged about him before, what would those people say about him, that he wasn't brave or courageous, that because he was uninsured he waited and now he is gone. I am not going into a discussion of the health care debate. My opinion is this go to the doctor, get a physical, if you need further treatment for cancer or some other disease, get it, they can't turn you down, its better to be alive and broke than dead.

One friend of mine told me I am a lot more pleasant to be around since my diagnosis, I asked him what he meant and he said I don't get as upset as I used to. That is the truth for sure, but I thank the medication I am on for that mostly, but I guess cancer has something to do with that as well, I fly off the handle less.

Cancer has given me a voice, strength I never knew I had, and ability to advocate and help people. It has made me a different person, sometimes better, sometimes not.

Has it made me a better person? I don't know.

I do know this, I am grateful to be here.

Mel is the producer of the Vic McCarty show. Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern standard time on www.wmktthetalkstation.com

Done

I wish that is what they would stamp on my cancer chart. DONE. As if you could just stamp something and have it be so like "top secret"  like on NCIS or "case closed," like the CIA does. Sadly that is not the case. I don't think you can ever be done with cancer. Even in remission or not having it for many years, there is always that scanxiety, with every blood test, or scan, or even phone call.

September 18th will be my 3 year cancerversary.  Still can't believe it has been 3 years.

Certain things I remember like they were yesterday.  Other stuff is just a giant chemoblur.  I remember when I was told, obviously, when the surgeon told me my options, when the oncologist said ok we can start chemo next week, I thought, what, already holy shit, give me more than 7 days after I get my port in to process this craziness.

My friends told me that it would be over before I knew it.  I didn't believe them at the time.

This is going to take forever I thought HOW MANY MONTHS WILL I HAVE THIS GODDAMN PORT IN?  How long will I be going through chemo and herceptin, and I have to reschedule my life around an afternoon radiation appointment?  Really?

My friend was right.  Although it didn't seem like it it did go by fast.  Now I watch other people go through similar situations that I did, chemo, surgery radiation, and I see the anger and frustrations in their posts.  I know how they feel, I felt that way too. 

Its hard to explain to my friends that soon this will be a distant memory, that this wont last forever, but when you are in the moment, surrounded by cancer, time stands still.

I will continue to advocate, continue to speak about patient empowerment, continue to share my story, continue to blog.

Until there is a cure.

Only then will I be Done.

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com available on demand now and also available on Itunes

The Monster Within

We have all heard the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial.  Most of America was captivated by this case.  Most people are outraged by the verdict.

I didn't get into it.  It wasn't the crime of the century.  Yes it was, and well still is, a tragic story.  Most people think Casey Anthony is a monster, a killer. 

Casey Anthony has, if she is indeed guilty only killed one person.

I have a monster in me.  I didn't know I had it in me.  Many of my friends do as well

The monster is cancer.

This monster kills more than one innocent child.

It kills thousands a year.

Kids like Ellie Potvin:

and MacKenzie Stuck:

Why isn't there coverage every night on the major news channels about this?  Why doesn't the fact that a disease takes so much from so many, kids as well as adults, get broadcast every night?

Where is the outrage?

There is no tangible villain to see, no young mother who would rather party than spend time with her daughter.  No person we can look at and hate.  No one to get angry at.

Like I have said.  I was not captivated by the trial.  I am not outraged by the verdict.  When I look at Casey Anthony I don't see someone scary.

The monster with in me:  (that is a breast cancer cell pictured below)

 potentially in all of us, is a hell of a lot scarier.

Film at 11?

Probably not..

Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.

Hit me baby one more time....

So my docs office called me on Saturday morning.  Yes you read that right Saturday morning. At 8:30 to give me the results of a bone scan.  Now anyone who knows me knows that if you call me that early and I answer chances are I wont have a clue of what we talked about.  I am more of a night owl, or insomniac, whichever you want to call it.  So she mentioned something about osteopenia and the scan I had a while ago.

So I fall back to sleep and when I wake up I am thinking osteopenia?  What the hell is that?  Sounds like some country in Europe, between Luxemborg and Lithuania, I was never really good at geography so I guess it could have been.

Of course I look up osteopenia. I am a internet junkie, of course I am going to look it up.  It is defined on Web MD as: Osteopenia refers to bone mineral density BMD  that is lower than normal peak BMD but not low enough to be classified as osteoporosis.

So let me get this straight. I finished up the shitty part of my treatment in mid 2008.  I get a bone scan and find out that I have another side effect.

FUCK.

While I know that this was a possibility, once again going back to the "menu" of side effects that the docs give you while you are going through treatment I didn't expect it. I expected to be finished.  Done with side effects.  I still have lingering neuropathy that shows up every once and a while like an unwanted house guest and sometimes stays like one too.

Getting another side effect is like getting punched in the face without expecting it. Except, with that the black eye you may get will go away. Osteopenia  however stays with you.  Yes I will take more pills (oh goody just what I wanted to do spend more fucking money on meds and take more fucking pills) and do weight bearing exercises (walking, which I find extremely boring and tedious, and no there will be no running, not with these knees)  to help offset the osteopenia.

Sometimes I wonder why my body hates me so much. I have been pretty good to it, (well we wont talk about those college days, that is just to be expected, and what happens in the dorms stays in the dorms)  It attacks me with cancer (overproduction of cells)  My immune system attacks me (hypothyroidism) I have vitamin d deficiency, I have no clue how I got that besides I am not outside enough?    My mind attacks me with depression.

It is very frustrating to think you are out of the woods only to look up and see more trees.

Like I always say:

Cancer, its the gift that keeps on giving. 

Mel is the co~host/producer of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen live 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com 

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com. Available on demand and also available on itunes.

Whatever gets you through the day part two

I was on one of the social networking sites tonight instant messaging a friend of mine and we were talking about using anti depression medication. I recently tried to get off of mine, but a week of trying to get off of it and nasty side effects from it made me decide to stay on them. Unless I was going to be away from people or not on the radio I would have been able to get off of them, but the side effects of getting off of effexor, the brand of anti depressant I take was I was extremely jumpy and I felt like I was going to burst into tears at the drop of a hat. I don't think that would make for good radio, although some may disagree.

There is less of a stigma now days with people taking anti depressants or anti anxiety pills as there used to be. I was even nervous about asking my doctor about getting on some form of anti depressants, but I felt like I wasn't me, I am usually in a good mood most of the time and survivorship, cancer, side effects, well I guess the whole snowball of everything got to me. I remember sitting in the room talking to the doctor, not even being able to look at her, kind of embarassed about asking. She told me not to worry, that it wouldn't be forever. But you know what? I am ok with the fact that it might be. I have been through a lot in the last two years, and if I have to take a little pill to keep me from feeling lost or sad or out of sorts then so be it. I would not be where I am with out it, and of course this is only my opinion, if you think you need something like this to help you always consult with your doctor, that is what I do, sometimes, I think to a ridiculous degree, but hey, I am was definitely not used to going from being in great health and getting ready to play hockey to having cancer, going through chemo, losing my hair, feeling like shit, feeling tired, having insomnia, being hungry and not being able to eat, having radiation, having people treat me different, having people give me that poor you look, (which I hate by the way, if you ever give me that look I will call you on it, I have to my friends and to my health care professionals) not being able to work, not being able to do the things I want to do and changing my whole life because my body basically wanted to kill me.

So yeah I am a proponent of Anti depressant and anti anxiety meds.

I know with this blog it seems like the meds aren't working, but trust me they are, it has been a long day,a good day, but a long one none the less and along with humor I use an ample supply of sarcasm to help me cope.


Mel is the producer of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen live weekdays 10am-noon eastern on wmktthetalkstation.com

Fractured

I have an oncology appointment next week.   I think it has been at least six months since my last one.  I am wondering if I should be more nervous than I am.  Haven't really had any scanxiety for the last few visits, but I have as I have written about before dealing with depression. 

I was wondering when my slow spiraling descent downward  started.  Blogging is a good way for me to remind myself of what has happened to me before, during and after treatment.

I think it started 7 months ago, I wrote a blog called Outbreak, about how I was dealing with 4 instances of cancer with deaths, recurrances and a good friends memorial service. I am really surprised that I didn't see it coming.  I knew I was upset at that point, but to get to where I got a few weeks ago was very slow.  Add the fact that more people passed from cancer that I had met in person or online (Mandi Schwartz, Sara Feather) its not surprising I was an emotional trainwreck.

I tend to ignore the signs, because I think I can handle it.  We all think that don't we? Doesn't matter what life throws at you, the saying goes if God brings you to it He will bring you through it, or something like that.  Apparently in my case not without prescription medication.

I believe that the hockey season kept me from going into a quicker downward descent.  Extreme physical exercise and being back on the ice after so long felt so good.  But it didn't and couldn't help everything that was going on in my head.  

Great, my body tries to kill me, I survive that, then my mind turns on me too.  I really don't want to ask what could possibly be next, because cancer was scary, not being in control of my thoughts and moods was even scarier.  

I feel bad for some people that I hurt.  I have apologized, they accepted.  But still.  To not be yourself for so long and to not see it, and have the changes be so minute that others don't notice it as well?

I got mad at a friend of mine for a stupid reason. It wasn't just mad.  There were some days that I couldn't stand being in the same room.  I believe because I was in that place and I was mad at her I unwittingly channeled my negative energy and anger towards her.  Unfortunately for her she was an easy target.  

I didn't realize this until after The Carcinista passed away.  I was consumed by anger and depression and I didn't see it for months. Or I ignored it, thinking it was nothing and it would go away.

After recording The Carcinista's interview I texted my friend:  I am thinking we should get together next week and talk in person and hash out this issue we have...  I was coming off of a cold and I didn't want to spread germs to anyone else.  She agreed, she had the same idea in mind.

May 3rd was when we agreed to meet.  Looking back at that day and that talk I had with her I was then end of my emotional rope, with no knot to tie on the end.  I really don't recall what was said in the conversation (part depression, part chemobrain)  wasn't sure I still wanted to be friends and left.

Then I found out that Sarah had passed.  

Its amazing what it takes to make you realize whats important. For so long you can obsess about the stupidest shit possible and be pissed and then something like that smacks reality back into your life.  Again I texted (my preferred mode of conversation these days) my friend.  Told her that life is too short for this BS.  Told her about the carcinista, well not everything, just that a friend had passed, and that I needed time.

Eventually we sorted everything out.  I can't say if things will be back to where they were.   Only time will tell.  But I do realize now that I have to be more mindful of myself and get pissed or sad at a non response to a text or an unreturned email. (yeah that was some of the stuff that bugged me, SERIOUSLY!!)  Getting upset at an unreturned text?  Still wonder why I didn't see this coming.  Must have been the lack of neuro-epi seritonin or whatever chemicals in my brain are over or under used.  

It took a while but I figured it out.  Only took about 7 months.  Never thought I was that slow of a learner.

Jean Paul Sartre said  Everything has been figured out, except how to live.

The Carcinista figured it out.  I am envisioning her smiling down upon me.  

Happy that I finally figured it out too.

Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com
Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.

Getting back on track

As a cancer survivor I am used to the waiting game.  Waiting for doc appointments, waiting for results from scans.  Waiting, waiting, waiting.  I wonder how much of my cancer experience I have spent waiting.  Probably over half of it.

I am used to waiting for other people, but not for myself.

I am used to going all out all the time.  When I had two jobs I would start my day at 5am as a server finish up  around noon or 2pm, get to the radio station, do some voice tracking, go to the gym, then maybe head back to the radio station to work on a Tigers or a Red Wings game. A 5am-10pm day.  I would do this about 2 or 3 times a week.

I am 3 years into my survivorship, and I am still waiting to be able to get back to that level of energy.  Don't get me wrong, I do have energy.  I still get up early, my work day ends around noon -2pm.  I do pilates twice a week, its winter so I play hockey, but I am still not back to what I was before.  I have to nap during the day to be able to do what I need to do.


Its hard waiting for me.  Its harder not knowing if I will ever get back to where I was before.


I am close.


But not quite there.


This is one of the things they don't tell you about when you have cancer.


This is just one of the many charming aspects of survivorship that I have to deal with on a daily basis.  Just one of the many thoughts that go through my head wondering when I will be back to me, or as close to it as I possibly can be with everything that I have been through.

There are some friends of mine that I haven't seen since I moved from California.  Since I was diagnosed.  Since I had cancer.

Sometimes I wonder how much I have changed and if they will even recognize me.  The Me that they knew.

Its a scary thought to think that they wont.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said "All things come round to him who will but wait."

I hope he was right. 


Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com


Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.

FRED

 

If you are a frequent reader of my blog you know I had an pelvic ultrasound, which included a transvaginal ultrasound , as well as a uterine biopsy.  That is where the doctor found Fred, a uterine polyp. Fred was biopsied.   I am happy to report the results were that Fred was benign.  Fred is very small and doesn't need to be removed.  Fred gave me a few nights of worry, I will admit that.  I still don't know how doctors and techs have any kind of clue of what they are looking at on scans and ultrasounds, that is why they get the big bucks I suppose.  So I am still lucky. I am still in remission, and I have to constantly remind myself not to stress myself out about  things that I have no control over, like these kinds of medical issues, financial issues, of which I have many, like most cancer patients I have lots of medical bills.  I am lucky though, I have great insurance, it doesn't cover everything, but as my fiance said last night, it could be worse, there are lots of people who owe more than I do, and that is true.  I have always said I would rather be broke than dead.  The collection people keep calling, and I am working on getting a second job, and paying my doctors back is very important to me, after all they did save my life.  But like I said, I am alive, I am in remission.  I am able to blog here and do my podcast to help other survivors.  I am lucky.  Sometimes it takes something like Fred to remind me of that.

Mel is the producer/co-host of the Vic McCarty show.  Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern standard time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com available on demand now and also available on itunes

SNOWGLOBE

Having cancer is like living in a snowglobe.  Everything is going along fine and then suddenly everything gets shaken up. When I mean everything I mean EVERYTHING life,love,jobs,family,friendships,money,emotions, vanity,anger, happiness,depression, pretty much anything you can imagine in your life gets all mixed together in one giant shaking of the globe.

What reminded me of this was when I was at work and was watching it snow outside (don't tell the boss that I wasn't paying attention to the game for a few minutes) the big flakes falling slowly to the ground.  How beautiful, how ironic.  Ironic that I would pick something that is usually a souvenir of a vacation, or in one good friend of mines case, something silly, I would try to find the most ridiculous snowglobe I could, usually something from the 99 cent store would suffice.  Something you would look at to remind you of the good times.

But not the cancer snowglobe. By the time you realize everything has been shaken up you have no idea where you are, whats going on or what to  do.  That is what cancer can do to you.  I am still feeling like my snowglobe is still being shaken.  Trying to deal with survivorship, figuring out how to pay the mounting medical bills, (oh I was excited to see I actually got a bill in the mail I could afford. Never thought I would be happy to see a bill) work, having this damn cold, of which the fatigue level reminds me of cancer fatigue, cancer advocacy, trying to find time to see Doug, see friends, you get it.  

When you shake a snowglobe nothing is in the same place as it was before.  That is how I feel sometimes.  I still struggle with survivorship, with life after cancer, with the new normal.  None of this I had asked for.  A little over a year of fierce snowglobe shaking during treatment, now just a quick shake here~ here is a doctor bill you weren't expecting, and there~wait you want to take a trip somewhere?  Think again, all your money goes to crazy foolish things like rent and food and bills. Shake, shake shake.

Next time I go on vacation, I will skip buying a snowglobe and get myself a T shirt.

Mel is the producer/co-host of the Vic McCarty Show Monday-Friday 10am-Noon eastern standard time.  Listen live wmktthetalkstation.com

 Check out my podcast available on demand now and also available on Itunes.

Deja-Vu all over again....

Definition of Deja-Vu by Free Dictionary.com

Noun- The experience of thinking that a new situation had occurred before

an experience that causes you to remember something

I recently found out a survivor friend of mine had a new cancer.  Not a recurrance, but a brand new cancer.  The drugs they give you to get rid of the cancer that you have can cause more cancer, and even different cancers.  Pretty ironic.  That is one scary part about cancer.  You can feel totally fine and it can sneak up on you.

I had an ultrasound the other day.  A pelvic ultrasound.  Normally these tests don't worry me, but for some reason this one really got in my head, don't ask me why.  Maybe it was just the culmination of stress from everyday  life that manifested itself into this one test.

 I am used to tests, it gets to be kind of routine, part of your daily life, unfortunately.  I am always interested in watching the screen when I get a scan.  Not like I have a damn clue of what I am looking at now, white with a lot of dark spots, looks like the fucking moon, ok is that good or bad?  Tech doesn't say, can't say, not allowed to.  (Remember I have already gotten one tech in trouble so my chart is probably flagged like Elaine's chart was in Seinfeld, labeled a trouble maker)

I remember looking down at the shirt I was wearing. Life is Good.  God it would be so ironic if this was the day they scanned me and I had more cancer.

So the test was on Thursday.  Wait for the results.  Over the weekend, oh yeah a holiday weekend.  72 hours to have all sorts of  thoughts run through my head, none of them helpful to me or my health.  Just breathe, it will be ok, I am thinking, what if that black spot is a tumor, what if cancer is back? How do the techs and radiologist tell what all that stuff is?  It looks like a picture of the moon to me. Shit, I want to have a good weekend, but I couldn't get it out of my head.  I am my own worst enemy.  Try to be happy, not think about it.  I can't always be happy.  Thinking about the possibility about having another cancer doesn't leave you with the sunshine and puppies feeling. The whole 3 day weekend goes by and its Tuesday.

Call the doc, leave a message.

No response.

The universe has its own timetable.  As much as I would hope that my pelvic ultrasound of what looks like the sea of tranquility will be read by the radiologist before anyone elses I know that is most likely not the case.

I think to myself, don't they know how stressed out I am about this?  How could they honestly?  I try to avoid the doctor as much as I can.  Not that I am not grateful for what they have done for me, but the less I see them the better I feel.  As a patient I am proactive, but I also realize that sometimes I am a pain in the ass. (first step to recovery is admitting your problem)

Wednesday.  Call the docs office, instead of going to voicemail I get the office manager Carla, tell her I would like the results of my test if they have them that would be great because, as I have written before, I am not a patient patient, I hate waiting, despise it I hate being late to things, even by a few minutes.  I believe it is some kind of ocd with me. Carla puts me on hold.  The doctor picks up the line.  No masses, good I think to myself, I really shouldn't look at ultrasounds again, looks like the moon, might see Neil Armstrong on there.

But...

There is always a but.

Since the one of the drugs I take stops my period, a side effect I was happy to have, the endometrius builds up, that is basically the blood that you would have shed if you had a period.  That is normal.  No period.  Stuff stays somewhere.  They want to biopsy it just to make sure.  Tamoxifen can cause endometrial cancer.  Anti cancer drugs that cause cancer.  Still want to pick and choose my side effects.  So she explains to me about what all is involved in an endometrial biopsy.  It is pretty much like a pap test only they take a part of the endometrius.

So why is it deja-vu all over again.  I think back to my friend, the breast cancer survivor.  I just saw her in October at a cancer society fundraiser. Three short months ago. She looked great.  Now she has a new different cancer.

Monday I have my biopsy.

Then once again.  I wait.

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast available on demand on Empoweradio.com and also available on itunes.

Those three little words...

That was my dinner tonight.  Pancakes and bacon.  Everyone loves bacon right?  And pancakes make everything better (well they do, especially after visiting the emergency room twice in one night a month after starting chemo.)

So I started thinking, if my dinner could make my cancer come back.

Not like that is possible.  No one really knows what caused my cancer.

"I'm sorry Mel," the doctor would say," you shouldn't have had that pancake and bacon dinner on January 18,2012.  You should have stuck to your regular diet of chicken or fish and veggies."

Of course its in the waayyy back of my mind about recurrance, but its always there.  Floating around like a little bubble, sometimes you see it, sometimes you don't.

I had the latest issue of Cure Magazine next to me.  The title was "What caused my cancer?"

"I don't know."

Those three little words that I have heard so often from my doctors.

Could my cancer have been caused by my biological grandmother having cancer? 

Was it living in the San Fernando Valley for 10 years with all that smog?

Or perhaps it was working at that fancy restaurant that used to be an old cement factory.

Maybe it was just dumb fucking luck.

"I don't know."

Who is more frustrated, me the patient or my doctor?

I expect my doctor to know everything, but after all, they are just people, but shouldn't they know everything? 

We think that when we are crying about our diagnosis, or upset about a new illness, possibly brought on by our treatment for cancer.

Yep, those three words.

Think about how hard it would be to say those words to someone, when they look to you for the answers and yet you have none.

That must be extremely hard.

How hard?

I don't know....

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes. 

Can't Find Your Words? Say Chemo Brain.

Another guest blogger

By Idelle Davidson

You know it's just on the tip of your tongue.  It's a word that has a "ka" sound in the beginning and a "tah" sound somewhere at the end.  And you can almost see it, but then darn, it's gone.  Perhaps later, when you're rushing to slap dinner on the table, that stupid word, so maddeningly elusive just hours before will pop right into your head, as if it were all just some silly misunderstanding between you and your brain.

I'm guessing that if you've had chemo and have experienced the fog that often follows, then you know what I'm talking about, right?  It's not that you can't comprehend language, it's that you can't retrieve it.  It's like the arcade game where you maneuver levers to grab a prize.  You just can't get the prongs low enough or tight enough around that plastic key chain before it slips away.

In a 2006 study of the side effects experienced by 26 women undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer, language (including fluency, verbal repetition, reading, and writing to dictation) was the most severely affected cognitive function, followed by memory. (Source: F. Downie, Psycho-Oncology 15 -2006: 921-930).  That's not entirely surprising considering that chemotherapy not only may affect language but the speed in which we process information.

One woman I interviewed for "Your Brain After Chemo" had this to say: "It is painful when people look at me with confusion while I am trying to talk.  I know that I'm not making sense, and I don't know how else to talk.  When it happens I die a million deaths and feel very dumb."    

Have you experienced word retrieval problems during or following chemotherapy?  Have you found ways to compensate?  If so, please share what has worked for you.

Bio: Idelle Davidson is an award-winning journalist, a cancer survivor, and co-author (with Dr. Dan Silverman at UCLA) of YOUR BRAIN AFTER CHEMO: A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO LIFTING THE FOG AND GETTING BACK YOUR FOCUS (available in bookstores and on Amazon.com). http://www.amazon.com/Your-Brain-after-Chemo-Practical/dp/0738212598].

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen Live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast available on demand now on itunes and empoweradio.com