Reflections

There are 5 days left of 2010.  I have to say it has been a long emotional year for me. Lots of good things have happened for me professionally.  This has been a great year pr wise for The Cancer Warrior.

I was one of a few featured survivors in a Chicago Tribune/LA Times article about cancer survivors (Thats me before Peggy Fleming and the president of Harvard with my photo above the fold, doesn't show it only though)

A Positive Ripple Effect magazine featured an article I had written.

I was featured on several radio shows, including The Stupid Cancer Show.  Matt Zachary who founded Stupid Cancer is not only a good friend but someone I admire.  I was blogging on my own blog and was also blogging on The Stupid Cancer Blog.  I am grateful to him for helping me get my start.

One of the most amazing things that has happened to me this year is being asked to speak at The Cancer Treatment Centers of America Empowerment Rally.  Out of all the cancer survivors I was picked with 4 other survivors from the US to talk about patient empowerment. I can remember the night before thinking that there will be a knock on the door and someone from CTCA would say uh sorry we made a mistake, here is a ticket for your flight home. 

I have met some amazing survivors in person and online.  I have an amazing group of people who have had all kinds of different cancers, all who share the same experience, and who all want the same thing, the end of cancer.  I know I can email, call, tweet, or facebook any of my friends at any time if I need guidance or help for myself or someone else. 

I have started new ventures in social media, helping others maintain their facebook pages.  Sounds easy, I know.  Someone asked me people actually pay you for that?  The answer is yes, they do.  Businesses and people get busy with their lives and need people to help them.  That is what I do.

One of the things I like to do is pay it forward, either to my friends by some simple gesture, but mostly to people I haven't met.  Its an easy thing to do, and it takes minimal effort.  Someone paid it forward to me this year.  They created my amazing new website  When my friend said he would do my website pro bono I never expected the extent of how much he has done.  I was blown away.  Honestly when I first saw it I almost started to cry.  I was just expecting nothing more than the go daddy parked site I had. 

Celebrated 3 years of survivorship.  Nothing is better than hearing all clear on blood tests, scans and physicals.  Nothing.

With all the amazing highs there were many lows as well.


September 15th. 

Just 3 days before I was to celebrate my 3 year cancerversary I lost a good friend to cancer.
 
Donald Wilhelm

He was such an inspiration to many, and I am grateful I got to meet him and call him my friend.  Even now as I am writing this the tears are flowing.  Knowing that just 4 months before he passed I posted an interview of him here.

And I saw him just 3 months before he passed away at the Pancake House with his wife Amy.  I am grateful I got to meet her and that Doug got to meet him. 

The photo below taken on Memorial Day weekend will always be one of my favorites.

Seemed like after Don passed away everything just sent me into a tailspin of depression.  Even with the pink ribbon program that I started at Pilates Midwest and the Pilates helping me to relax the cancer world that I was in was rocked one week with Don's memorial service, a friends recurrance and not one but two deaths because of cancer.

I have to say the last three months of this year have been some of the hardest I have ever dealt with.  Dealing with those passings, financial hardships, and just life in general got to me.

It was rough.

Almost as rough as when I was going through treatment. 

I can honestly say without prescription medications, family, and good friends being there for me I don't think I would have made it through these past 3 months as much as I did, and for you I am eternally grateful.

5 days until the ball drops and its 2011.

I have faith that 2011 will be better than 2010.
 
Faith consists in believing when it is beyond the power of reason to believe. ~ Voltaire


Mel is the producer/co~host 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 now and also available on Itunes

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

You Like Me, You Really Like Me!!!

Just got an email today from Amy from licensedpracticalnurse.com saying they liked my blog and is featuring it on their website as one of their top breast cancer blogs.

I am honored and humbled by The Cancer Warrior's inclusion in this list.

I hope this means that I am making a difference in cancer survivor's lives.


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

Flip the switch

I had an appointment with the doctor the other day.  My general practioner.  Regular checkup.  My doc always asks about my meds, my moods.  Told her sometimes I feel down. Yeah I get depressed.

Sometimes I can snap out of it pretty easily, sometimes I can't.

This was one of those times I couldn't.

I wish I could figure out what brings my mood down.

Some days it seems like it comes out of nowhere, and suddenly I am deeply entrenched in emotions that make no sense to me, but sometimes they do.

It can come in waves, like one moment I am fine the next I am not.

Its worse when your alone, or at night, when there is nothing but your own thoughts surrounding you.

I guess its no wonder that it is hard for me to fall asleep because when I feel this way all I do is think about the things that bother me, or what is upsetting me.

The thing that really gets to me is how I can be fine, then just feel totally steeped in it.

Its inexplicable really, unless you have been there, and if you are reading this I hope you never have been.

I recall one of the times that I felt the worst was right before the carcinista had passed.  That was end of April early May of this year.  I was at a friends house apologizing for the way I had acted, another wonderful thing about this mental condition of mine, I have a tendency to lash out at people that I care about, do and say shit that is totally out of character for me.  I don't recall exactly what the conversation was about but I know I was in a dark place and I felt utterly lost.

Its not something you can just snap out of.

So I try to make sense of it all. Figure out what gets me down.

Ultimately I have no idea.

Right now I am feeling pretty fucking good, and man I love this feeling,

The feeling I had before cancer, before Sept 18, 2007.

Then I wonder when my brain chemistry is going to go askew and flip that switch.

Lyrics from Pink's song Perfect:

You're so mean, 
When you talk, about yourself,
 you were wrong, 
Change the voices in your head
make them like you instead  


If only it was as easy as the song makes it out to be.

I will continue on the fight against my own mind, when the depression hits, when the switch is flipped, I gotta find the right trigger to put it back.

Until then I will continue to advocate, blog about it,try to destigmatize it.

That's the only thing I can do.


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

In Response to NY Times article "Think About Pink"

So the creator of project boobies emailed me a link to a NY Times article recently.  About this survivor who was complaining about the pink ribbon on everything.  To that I can relate.  Everything seemed to have a pink ribbon on it.  I get that, in October the ribbon was everywhere.  That is the only part of the article I can agree upon.
Paraphrasing, she said that the pink ribbon was on everything and it promoted "awareness."

Then she said this,
"The experience of actual women with cancer, women like Rollin, Black, Ford and Rockefeller — women like me — got lost."

Uh what?

So I put on a Save the Tatas shirt or a Project boobies that takes away from your experience with cancer?

She says "Sassy retail campaigns have sprung up everywhere, purporting to “support the cause.”
Ok so as a writer shouldn't you check facts?

In the photo for the blog I am PROUDLY wearing a projectboobies shirt for a tv interview, one that she was complaining about in the article to be sassy and purporting to "support the cause."

Sorry Ms. Orenstein, it does support the cause.

Have you heard of Kokolulu?  A free retreat for cancer survivors in Hawaii.  A portion of project boobies proceeds goes to fund the retreat.  THE FREE RETREAT.

As for Save The TaTas, a company I am familiar with, a company who, whenever I ask for t shirts for a fundraiser or a group the owner Julie Fikse donates to me without question, has according to their website donated $535,000 towards ending breast cancer.

Sorry that diminishes your battle.

 Sorry that Kris Carr, survivor and author of Crazy Sexy Cancer bothers you with her positive message.

Does it diminish the battle of the 52 year old survivor who asked my friend for a save the tatas shirt, knowing that she got it from me?  Does it diminish the fact that the doctors didn't give her much time to live. 

I say No.

Most of the breast cancer survivors I know are in their 20's and 30's so I would instead of wearing as you would want me to a “I ❤ My 72-Year-Old One-Boobied Granny t shirt instead of the tatas or projectboobies shirt I would wear my  I ❤ My 27 yr old friend who is a college student and a young adult breast cancer survivor

Because I do.

And a pink ribbon on toilet paper doesn't diminish the battle or the stories of my friends Lani, Angella or Ann, who are survivors, bloggers, and advocates (and Ann at this time is facing a recurrance)


Seeing a pink ribbon everywhere doesn't diminish my battle. It only fuels my fire to advocate for ALL CANCERS  even more.   I maintained a positive outlook while battling cancer and depression at the same time.  I guess I just prefer to live my life positively, even while staring in the face of my own mortality.

No survivor I have ever heard say cancer is fun.

We all know it sucks.

Wrap that up in a pink ribbon. 

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.

A Positive Ripple Effect

A while ago I was asked to write an article for a magazine.  I can't even recall how long ago that was, I blame chemo brain for that.  Some things I just can't retain.  I try to get used to it but it is still frustrating as hell...

Its not like I submit things all the time.  I don't.  Most of the time I just write on my blog or submit to a few things here or there.  So when I got the email from Brent from Empoweradio.com.  I was like "oh yeah, sweet!!"

Imagine my surprise when I opened up the email link for the magazine and I saw my name on the cover. 

Wow. 

I am grateful to Kim and Cheryl the creators of the magazine to be included in the premiere issue.

I am honored and humbled to be on the cover.

I am glad there is a magazine that is spreading positive messages out there.


Check out A Positive Ripple Effect.  My article is on page 34. Please check out the entire magazine, and share it with your friends.

Mel is the producer/co~host 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 now and also available on Itunes.

OUTBREAK

It has been a rough week. I found out that one friends breast cancer returned (on Friday)  went to another good friend's memorial service (on Saturday)  Saturday night I was an emotional wreck.  I considered not going into work on Sunday on my on air shift on 106KHQ, but thought better of it because, well for one,  I need the money, and two, we are short staffed, and I didn't want to use just having a shitty weekend and possible mental breakdown as an excuse for not going to work,so yeah I have a puritan work ethic.

So I went to work on Sunday, so freaked out and feeling like I was coming mentally unglued, but I knew that I could pull off a good show.  I can fake that no problem.  I am a professional after all.  But you know what?  I didnt' have to.  The music lifted up my spirits.  I was the only one in the building for the majority of my day so I was dancing and singing at the top of my lungs, (thank god the Ustream wasn't on or else I would have never heard the end of that from my co workers. 

We use facebook at work.  One of the perks for working at a radio station.  It is considered part of the job to post status updates, ask questions to the listeners and post where we will be making appearances, etc.

So as I was on facebook I came across a friend of mine's status and photo.  It was a shrine for his wife.  She had passed away from cancer a few weeks back.  I had worked with him on Crossing Jordan, which seems like a lifetime ago, and we were casual facebook friends.  I was stunned.  This would make 3 instances of cancer that I saw that weekend.

So Monday rolled around.  For a Monday it was going pretty well.  Had a decent Vic McCarty show.  Monday is always lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings, another perk of the job.  Was having a pretty good day.

Then the local paper came.

I usually read through it pretty quickly.  Not much news, small town.

Then I saw the obituary of someone that I worked with at another job a few short years back.

That made 4.


A good friend of mine said I should ponder and wonder why this happened.  Its God's plan.

I am not going to ponder this.

Sometimes God's plan just plain sucks

You can label me a heretic.  I go to church when I can.  I pray. I do believe in God and do believe he does have a plan. 

That doesn't mean I have to like it or agree with it or anything of the kind.

Like my friend Donald Wilhelm  (who was the #2 in this blog) would say "It is what it is"

But dammit, fucking number 4

Seriously.  Is it just me or is this ridiculous?  How can there be so much cancer around and there is no "cure" or meds to prevent it.    I am wondering what epidemologists say.  You know the people who study these things?

I am sick of the outbreaks.

I am sick of reading about another friend or acquaintance getting a recurrance or a diagnosis.

I am sick of seeing the goddamn pink ribbon on my cat's friskies.

October is Breast cancer awareness month.

To me every month is cancer awareness month.

I think we are all aware there if cancer

Now how about we start fucking doing something about it?

Mel is the producer/co~host 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 now and also available on Itunes

Interview on Your Story Matters with Angela Schaefers 8-10-10

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.

Transformation, turning points and clarity in life.

A guest post from Mr. Wonderful

Well here we are, coming close to the end of September. Have you heard? It's Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month! There's a lot to know about ovarian cancer and cancer awareness in general. But, I would like to share something a little different today. Two stories about how ovarian cancer has change my life: the first, about my wife, Sarah Sadtler Feather (1971-2011); and the second about me – after losing my wife. Both stories are about transformation, turning points and clarity in life.

Sarah – Rock climbing at Estes Park, Colorado with First Descents, September 2010

 

A year ago, Sarah ventured to Estes Park, Colorado to attend a rock climbing program through First Descents, an outdoor adventure program offered to young adult cancer fighters/survivors that is designed to enable a defiance of cancer, a reclamation of life and a connection with others doing the same.

Rock climbing was definitely not in Sarah's standard repertoire. As a matter of fact, she'd never even tried it. She was scared, but intrigued. I know she was also excited for the opportunity to check off a new item on the bucket list. 

During her five-day trip, she experienced two incredible personal transformation points. Both would remain a part of her to her last day. One would give her strength. The other would ultimately take her life. 

It all started with the elevation. At close to 9,000 feet above sea level, the air's a lot thinner than where we live outside of Boston, MA. Ovarian cancer had raided her body, and Sarah knew her lungs were already getting weaker as metastases were taking hold, ever so slowly. Going to the gym was becoming harder, but she still went three or four times a week. In Colorado, the higher elevation made her feel like someone was sitting on her chest. Fatigue had been a part of her daily existence for more than 4 years, but now it took an even deeper hold. Suddenly the idea of rock climbing, an energy/oxygen-intensive activity, was terrifying. 

She called me via Skype every night from her bunkroom. Often in tears, exhausted, frustrated and deeply disappointed, she would say how hard things were. She felt like a failure. I did my best to listen and to be supportive. But I'm sure I also gave too much advice, reminding her of how amazing she was and of her wonderful accomplishments.

But Sarah's struggle at Estes Park is what gave her a new strength. While she had already been through hell and back with numerous major surgeries, an ileostomy, chemotherapy more times than I can count, depression and more, this new challenge was powerful and exciting.

With help from her fellow campers and the amazing staff and volunteers at First Descents, Sarah was able to complete climbs, stand at the top, see the views and embrace her successes. Something about the physical experience of climbing a giant rock face, while others cheered her on, let her find a new strength, a deep vigor that would guide her to meet her goals in Colorado, and, later, would guide her at home as she completed her journey of life.  

When she returned home at the end of the week, she was different. She knew something she had not known before: the end was coming. Nothing could stop it. It was simply a matter of time. Her lungs where getting worse. She could feel it and knew it was time to help people understand.

But, she also had this new sense of strength, combined with hope and a deep, profound love for life. She shared this with me, with our boys, our family and friends. As she moved closer to the end, she encouraged me to live my life to the fullest, to keep going, to be strong for myself and our kids, and simply to remember her and her love in the best ways I could. And in her deepest, giving way, she especially wanted me to love again.

I don't think she knew it at the time (maybe not even when she died), but she was to become a shining beacon - one that would teach so many about life, about death, about love, about courage, about living to the fullest extent we are able.

(You can read her Estes Park story in the following three posts: “Catching My Breath”, “Looking for Footholds” and “Storming the Castle”.)

Ed – New experiences - dating in Boston, MA, Summer 2011

I felt good, but nervous. We'd been talking all night about life, people, places and experiences. Few were shared between the two of us, but the many similarities and differences created some wonderful contrasts. 

The woman sitting across from me was a natural beauty. She was quite stunning with a gentle, beautiful face and long, flowing hair. If she wore makeup, it was very little, and clearly not needed.

Leaning forward, I asked, "What are you looking for in a partner? What do you want?"

"I want to be known," she said, gazing back across the table. I sensed a deeper meaning, but wasn't sure I fully appreciated the significance of her statement.

"Do you mean you want someone who understands you?" I asked, hesitantly. 

Her response was deliberate and pointed. "No, I want to be known." She paused, looked at me and then went on. "Lots of my friends understand me. But none... know me.  I want to be known."  

"Wow," I thought. This was so conceptual, and so far from what I might have expected a woman to say when describing what she wanted in a man or relationship. Her tone was serious, but there was something else. Perhaps a hint of sadness. Clearly something she had pondered, and perhaps had wanted for a long time.

"That takes a long time." I said. "You can only really, truly know someone by spending a lot of time together." 

She gave a slight nod. "Mmm" she said, mouth closed, with a hint of a smile.

That she said "I want to be known" was not as surprising to me as was the depth and importance of her statement. This idea was of a kind that, once implanted, remains active, repeatedly asking for ponderance. I went home that night with my mind hunting for a connection to my own life experience, searching for personal understanding. Of course this raised thoughts of Sarah.

Sarah and I were together for 18 years. She was my wife, my best friend, my love, the mother of my kids, my muse. I was hers. In our shared experience we touched the depths of each other’s souls. We knew each other so profoundly, so completely that our love felt infinite. Our trust was implicit and complete right up to her very last breath of life. 

I held Sarah in my arms as she died. Ovarian cancer had won. As she slipped away and fell limp in my arms I felt my soul shudder. Our love and trust and knowledge had been so complete. Now they were shattered. She was gone. 

I do believe the knowledge we shared will remain in me for the remainder of my days. I will always remember our love, our friendship and all she did for me. She wanted me to move on and be able to live a full life, and she encouraged me to love again.

So now, as I think of my date's statement: "I want to be known."  I think I may fully understand her meaning. And, I agree. I also want to be known... again.

Cancer awareness. Every month. Every year.

I have some strong thoughts on this subject and have posted them at Carcinista.com. Cancer awareness is important. What is even more important, and could have saved the life of my dear Sarah, is to go see your doctor if you are not feeling well. Don't shrug it off. Get it checked out. Be specific. Make sure they know how you feel. Make sure to get a second opinion if you don't feel like they are taking you seriously. YOU are the only one who truly knows your body.

Be well.

Mr. Wonderful

So You Have Cancer: 10 Things to Do Now, Even if You're Not Warren Buffett

 Another guest blogger, enjoy

Article originally printed in the Huffington Post.  Reprinted with permission.

Cancer is all over the news lately, thanks to early detection, celebrity patients, and those ubiquitous "Hey Cancer" ads. Though medical breakthroughs may be in the offing, the Big C still packs a psycho/spiritual wallop for the newly initiated, no matter what effective tax rate you pay. Here are 10 ways to beat back the cancer blues and be your own best friend:

1) Blame Canada -- Or Philip Morris. Or your stress-Nazi boss. Just don't blame yourself. Because even if it is your fault, right now it's not your fault. Nothing about cancer is your fault. Give yourself the Robin-Williams-in-Good-Will-Hunting Hug because it's not your fault. Once you're all better you can get down on yourself for smoking, or eating poorly, or internalizing your parent's guilt trips. For now, stay focused on getting better.

2) Divide and Conquer -- Learn survivor math. Say the median survival rate of your cancer is five years. Does that mean you will be dead in five years? No, math-slackers, it does not. The median is not the same as the average. A median rate (which is how survival rates are measured) means half the people with your condition will die before the median, most likely people WAY older and WAY more decrepit than you. Are you old and decrepit? Because if you're not then you can live another 10 or 20 or 50 years, depending on your age, even if the median is only five years. I used to hate math too, till I got cancer. Now it's kind of awesome.

3) Take Your Google and Stick it Up Your iPad -- Don't be a masochist and try to "learn" about your cancer on the Internet. Every other post you read will make you feel like you're gonna die any minute. Remember, just because people before you have died of cancer, or even your type of cancer, does NOT mean you will too. So take that, Google founder Larry Page, who once built an inkjet printer out of Lego (it's fine to search for that kind of useless dreck).

4) Trip Out, Dude -- Look yourself in the mirror and say: "I have cancer." It's weird the first time, like saying "I'm tripping on LSD" (not that I would know) -- but it helps to get used to the idea while you're all alone. You have cancer, you can survive, and sooner than you think you'll be looking in the mirror again going, "I don't have cancer anymore." That'll be weird too, but the good kind of weird. The magic mushroom kind of weird (not that I would know).

5) Get Into the Closet -- Keep the lights off. You are now a medical imaging device trying to see inside the total darkness of a human body. Sometimes you see things that aren't really there, like the CAT scan that "saw" potentially fatal tumors on my liver, till a sonogram "saw" they were only harmless cysts on my kidney. Whoops... glad I didn't jump off a bridge that week. So remember: trust but verify.

6) Think About Sex -- I'm a man, so I can't even get through a top 10 list without thinking about sex at least once. If sex is on your mind during these trying times, remember it's perfectly ethical to sidle up to a good-looking girl or guy and say: "You know, I wouldn't ordinarily be so bold, but I have cancer, so I was wondering if we could get naked together." At least you're not lying. Lying is unethical.

7) Channel Judge Judy -- Will your doctor keep probing and testing you because she thinks you have something else, or God forbid, something worse? Probably. Is he also making sure he doesn't get sued for misdiagnosis? Hmm... never thought of that. Doctors work in the real world, my friend. Their job is to be thorough, for many reasons, so keep a running list of each horror they look for but don't find. Not so you can sue anyone. Just to remind you not to be afraid of anything until you're absolutely sure you have it. And even then, just repeat step 3.

8) Tell it to the Hand -- No one knows what the hell to say to someone waylaid by cancer (my best friend asked if I owed him money -- at least it made me laugh). Informing loved ones is a HUGE burden, and you've got enough on your plate as is. Email is a solid way to keep your peeps up to date, and tell them what you need -- namely, their well-timed support. Trust me, you don't want all your loved ones calling for news every time you go to the doctor. With a group email, they can feel connected to you and also give you some much-needed space.

9) Turn On Your High Beams -- E.L. Doctorow once said this about writing, but it's true for surviving cancer as well: "It's like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." So each day, just focus on getting to tomorrow. That's the only "long-term" goal you need to be concerned with till you hit remission.

10) Count to 28 Million, Babe -- That's how many cancer survivors there are worldwide. And with a little luck, you'll be next. Number 28 million and one. Just like Lance Armstrong and Sheryl Crow over there at the bar. Wait, they broke up, didn't they? "You know, I wouldn't ordinarily be so bold but..."

 

Michael Solomon is an award-winning filmmaker and the author of "Now It's Funny... How I Survived Cancer, Divorce and Other Looming Disasters."

Enforcer

Hockey teams are like family.  We protect each other on and off the ice.   Many people think hockey is nothing but a boxing match on ice. To those people I say lace em up and see why you are wrong.

This has been a sad year for hockey.  Not only with the tragic loss of KHL Locomotiv team from a devastating plane crash, but two hockey players (Wade Belak and  Richard Rypien) took their own lives because of (assumingly) their battle with depression.

I subscribe to Sports Illustrated.  No surprise there to anyone I am sure.

Reading Brian Cazenueve's article about the deaths of 3 NHL players, in a few months, and the fact that they were all enforcers, it made me sad.  The fact that Mr. Cazenueve said that "A third untimely death may spur the NHL to take another look at 'place in the game"


Fighting.

Hmm.

Fighting has its place in hockey.  I am not one to disagree with that.  I do however disagree that the NHL should look at fighting as the root cause of these players tragic demise.

I battle depression.  I hate the word suffer, but yeah sometimes I do.  Mental illness still has a stigma attached to it.

Now imagine you are a tough guy in the NHL.  Would it be easy to tell someone that you are depressed?

I can tell you it wasn't for me, and I consider myself to be a strong person.

Not as physically strong as a professional hockey player, but strong nonetheless.

I kicked cancers ass, and continue to do so in this blog, and on my podcast.

But the hardest battles are the ones that others can't see.

My friend said to me recently:

Sometimes the scariest place is inside your own head


Maybe the NHL should focus on helping players from the inside out, not worry about players dropping the gloves.

Hockey teams are like a  family, and even though I am not in the NHL, or even close to being anywhere near a professional player, I am ok at best, I will drop the gloves for anyone battling depression or any other mental illness.

Even you.

Wanna go?




Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 9am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com

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

Celebration???

September 18th I will celebrate 4 years of being cancer free.

Most people go by the date they were diagnosed.

I always get more introspective closer to the date of my diagnosis.  I read old blog posts of mine, sometimes not believing how far I have come, and yet still how far I have to go.

Does anyone else find it strange that we celebrate a day that changed everything?

Don't get me wrong.  I am grateful for early detection.  For my doctors.  For the planets aligning for everything to have gone well so far.  I am grateful to God.

But celebrate a day that started out great and ended in a way I could not imagine.  In a way that changed my life forever?  In some good ways, in some bad.

Coming up on four years cancer free.  I am grateful I am here, and fighting the fight.

I am not celebrating the fact I had cancer.

I am celebrating the fact I found it in time, and that I am here, and that my doctors are, in my eyes, rockstars.

So if you see me with a sly grin you will know why.

Suck on that cancer.


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.

Merrells

Its funny how certain things can remind you of events.  Smells, taste, clothing.  I remember when my fiance Doug was in the hospital and I was wearing this original 6 hockey shirt, it had the team logos on it.  He seemed ok then he started staring at it and then he had a seizure.  (That is what he was in the hospital for) 

It took me a year to wear that shirt again.  I almost tossed it out, but me being a hockey fan, well, of course it stayed in my wardrobe.

I have this pair of Merrell sandals.  They are my favorite shoes.  Not only because they signal the advent of spring/summer, they are just so damn comfortable.  I wear them whenever I can.  Biking, at work, everywhere.  I almost wore them to the Warrior dash, but I knew they would get ruined.

I bought them in the bargain basement of a local store.  I am not sure what year, but I know it was before I was diagnosed in Sept of 2007.

Now I don't remember what I was wearing when I heard my doc say "It's cancer"   but I do remember I had to get my physical the next day.  It was already scheduled for Sept 19th. I remember sitting on the exam table waiting for the doc to come in, staring down at my Merrells wondering what the hell was happening to me.

That was almost 4 years ago.  As you can see from the photo, they are well worn, and they are loved, and yeah they helped me get through treatment.

So you may look at them and wonder why don't I get a new pair?

Now you know why.

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.

The art of language

Everything has its own language.  For example, if you were to sit down next to me and I started talking about hockey and you had no idea what a shot on goal, PIM, one timer was, you would think, what the hell is she talking about.

Language, words.  Everybody has a hobby or a job that has its own language or terminology.  My friend owns a pilates studio. Before I started taking pilates you told me well today we are getting on the cadillac and doing the one hundred, then we will do the tree and the elephant.  I would think wait, we are getting in a car and what going to the zoo.  ( I haven't done pilates in a while but I know you cant do the elephant on the cadillac, or at least I am pretty sure) 

Another friend of mine chemobabe is a math professor.  That has its own language too.  If someone came up to me and started talking about word problems, fractions or pi my eyes would start to glaze over and I wouldn't understand what they are talking about.  (Did I tell you I totally sucked at math in high school?)

Language. 

There is a language I have learned that I wish I didn't know.  The language of cancer.  The medical terminology that comes with being a cancer patient/survivor.  I can talk at lengths about zofran, chemobrain, side effects of herceptin, adrymicin.  Tell you how good Biafine felt after radiation. Talk about muga scans, ct scans, insomnia, constipation.  Tell you how it sucks when I get depressed. Language.

I hate knowing that language.  I wish I was blissfully ignorant of terms like chemo fatigue, neuropathy & left ventricle ejection fraction.

But I know them. 

As cancer survivors we all know them.  Unfortunately it is not like a foreign language where you get a semester to learn what everything means.  You are essentially tossed off the boat into the ocean, where you have to swim and figure this shit out either on your own, or with the help of friends, family and the internet.

Fortunately there are enough of us out there to help if you find yourself stuck in that ocean.  The sea of words.

I'll be around to toss you a life preserver and help you out.

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.

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.

Out of your comfort zone

Everything about cancer takes you out of your comfort zone.

When I heard those words "It's cancer"  my life changed forever, for good and for bad.

Bad, well, because cancer sucks, and the treatment and side effects are worse than the disease.

Good because of the friends I have made, the better person I have become, the voice it has given me.

Work recently did a team building day retreat at a local camp.  It had a rock climbing wall and other things that you could climb.  Not something that I would normally do.

I tried the rock wall.  Didn't get very high.  Disappointed in myself that I couldn't climb to the top.  Rock climbing really isn't my thing.

Then I tried climbing up a rope ladder to a beam 30 feet in the air.  Looked easy from the ground.  Halfway up I thought "What the hell was I thinking??"

I made it up to the top, and actually walked across the beam to the other side.  Then yeah you just jump off.  You are well harnessed in.  Bad pr if you get injured on a team building retreat and work at the local radio station.

As I watched my co workers climb, cheer each other on I was reminded of my battle with cancer.  How it takes you completely out of your comfort zone. Into a whole new world that you are not prepared for mentally or physically.  That most of us face challenges we would otherwise would never be subjected to, and how afterwards we do whatever we can to stay strong, whether it be run in marathons, do triathalons, bike races etc.

I walked in a Making Strides walk 11 days after my lumpectomy surgery.


We strive to stay strong, because we know what it is like to feel so weak.

Some of my friends have called me a machine, because I barely stop to take a break.  I do my radio job, then I usually exercise, I do grab a nap when I can, then I am on the computer working on pr/marketing for The Cancer Warrior or my other facebook clients, or surfing the net, talking to other survivors, reading blogs and posting.  Fighting the fight.

They say there is no rest for the weary, I don't completely agree with that. I am determined to stay strong, so that those who are weary, those survivors who I advocate for, can rest.

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.

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.

Resident Evil

Last blogpost was about my friend Sarah aka The Carcinista's decision to stop treatment and live out the rest of her life on her terms.  I recorded a podcast with Sarah on Wednesday April 27.  Podcast went on Empower Radio 2 days later.  On Tuesday May 3rd I had learned that she had passed away.  Now they gave her a month (from what exact day I am not sure that was given, found out about it when I looked at facebook on my iphone, I am finding out more shitty information about my survivor friends that way.)

Of course I cried.  I was totally stunned and blown away.  How could this be?  Less than a week...  

I was beside myself with grief.

I still am.

I actually thought about giving up my advocacy.  I didn't share that with anyone.  It was a thought that went through my head.  Why am I doing this if my friends keep dying?  How can what I do make any kind of difference?

Then I saw a post my my facebook wall from Angella Hamilton.  I had called her after I had found out Sarah had passed and left a tear filled message on her voicemail. 

This is the post Angella had left me:  

"I want to tell you that what you do makes a difference. I know there are days when it gets rough- but your podcast with Sarah, and every cancer Survivor for that matter - makes an impact on people's lives and you should feel good about that."

So with those words in front of me I had several thoughts surrounding me.  I could run and hide and shut myself off from the world which is what I really felt like doing.

Or I could still be sad, pissed off, and stay in the fight.

I guess you figured out which one I chose.


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.