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.

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

Drowning in your own thoughts

May is mental health awareness month.  I find it ironic that I asked my doctor to up my anti depressant dosage during this month.  Things have been in a downward spiral for about a month.  I can't put my finger on what the trigger was for it.  Just stress I guess.

I should be happy!  I survived cancer.

Kicked its ass actually, and continue to kick it with my advocacy.

Then why am I so damned depressed?

Freedictionary defines depression as: Psychology A psychiatric disorder characterized by an inability to concentrate, insomnia, loss of appetite, anhedonia, feelings of extreme sadness, guilt, helplessness and hopelessness, and thoughts of death. Also called clinical depression

Great.  I survived cancer now I have a psychiatric disorder.

It's not really that uncommon for cancer survivors to be depressed.  I don't have exact numbers or graphs or charts but I know I am not the only one.

Although sometimes it feels that way.

I know I have been avoiding dealing with this for some time.  I'm supposed to be strong right?  I'm the one people lean on.  A friend of mine told me that he doesn't know how I can deal with everything I deal with, that I must have armadillo skin.

The signs were all there.  Avoidance, sadness, loss of interest etc.  I chose to ignore them, or maybe I thought it was different this time.

I was wrong.

Its hard to explain to someone who doesn't deal with this what its like.  It sucks because its not something you can control.

I tried to explain to a friend of mine about this.  I said I was dealing with this depression, and that it wasn't going to be easy dealing with me, that I may get upset or angry for no reason.  She said she understood.
But I could tell she really didn't.

Trying to explain to someone what this feels like is like shooting rubberbands at the stars.  You can try but it wont reach.  Unless you have know what this feels like its hard to explain.

Your head tells you one thing that your heart knows isn't true:
No one else feels like this, no one can help me, I feel lost.

Obviously none of those are true, but when you are within that moment, drowning in a sea of your own thoughts that is what it feels like.

Depression can handcuff you too.  Makes it hard to do your job and live your life.  Sometimes its a struggle just to make it through the day without wanting to just curl up in a ball and go to sleep, or feel like you are on pins and needles the whole day.

The passing of The Carcinista was a definitely a huge blow.  I am not even sure how I got through that week at work.

So if you saw me the first week of May I wasn't myself.
Realizing that was hard.

Asking for help was harder.

I know I am taking steps in the right direction to get back on track, back to myself.
It could be a slow process, or a quick one.

Either way I am glad I know I am getting better.


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.

Uncomfortably Numb

I had read a blog post by my friend Sarah, also known as  The Carcinista, that she had decided to forgo treatment and choose quality of life over quantity.  She has been battling stage 3c ovarian cancer on and off since 2006.  The cancer metastasized to her lungs.  She decided that she didn't want to do more taxol, which makes you lose your hair.  She wants to leave this world with her hair.  Can't say I blame her on that one.  I hated being bald.

So I thought it would be interesting to have her on my podcast.  Not really knowing if she would want to share her story with me.  Its one thing to write about it in the comfort of your own home, its another talking about it.  Sounds kind of weird I know, but since I have been on both sides of the microphone I understand how weird it is to talk about yourself.  Luckily Sarah said yes.

As I listened to her story it reminded me how she was a part of the Inner Tough Girls 12 weeks of transformation, as was I.   I was going through a rough time emotionally during those 12 weeks and I have to say I wasn't the easiest person to deal with  (sorry Angella)  but was grateful for meeting the women in the group. 

Being a cancer survivor/advocate you get caught up in forums, discussions, advocacy, your own survivorship etc.  As some one who has a good prognosis for survival I try not to think about my own mortality.  I did that during treatment.  As survivors we always have that word recurrance on our minds.  In my case it has been shut in the back of my mind.  Not something I think about.

So was surprised about The Carcinista's post.  I know she has been battling ovarian cancer on and off for a while but whenever I read about friends who make the decision to stop treatment it is always shocking to see. 

You always think: WHAT?  Keep fighting!! Don't give up!!

But its not about that is it? 

When you have done all you can, exhausted every option, every treatment, every clinical trial.  EVERYTHING.

When you know that you have fought all you could and now its about quantity vs quality of life. 

 Would you rather spend what you know to be your last remaining days on chemo being bald, feeling like shit, possibly not wanting to be around your family because you have that chemo haze surrounding you?


Or would you want to spend every last waking moment with them, knowing that every day is one day closer to not being with them anymore.

Its a hard decision to make for anyone.  Especially someone with two young children.

As I listened to Sarah tell her story I heard the labored breathing.  I knew it would get harder for her to speak to her husband, to her kids. 

It was hard to listen to, not because her story wasn't interesting, but because as survivors when something like this happens to a friend you can picture it happening to you.  It is one of those surreal circumstances that happens when you are a survivor. 

After I left the studio I called Angella and told her about Sarah's podcast.  Angella had not been online in a while she did not read Sarah's post. 

So I had the dubious honor of telling her about Sarah's choice, while hard, sadly I know she had made the right decision.

After listening to the podcast and informing Angella about Sarah's decision I went home.  Not even knowing what I was feeling. 

How can I be happy for someone who is going to die? 

And why the fuck did I have to be the bearer of bad news?

Now I know in the end, as my good friend Don Wilhelm would have said. "It is what it is"

True

But it still sucks.

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.