Chemo Postponed

While visiting the cancer clinic yesterday for bloodwork, I found out that I should have attended a chemo information session that I knew nothing about. As a result, they have delayed my chemo until tomorrow so I can attend the session today.

In preparation for the chemo I thought I was getting today, I started taking steroids yesterday. They’ve left me feeling like, well… someone on steroids. It’s as if I’ve had way, way too much caffeine and can leap tall buildings in a single bound. I never stopped talking all day yesterday (which is exhausting for an introvert!) and had trouble getting to sleep last night, despite taking a full sleeping pill. Maybe I should save a few of the steroid pills for the Run for the Cure. Do they do drug testing?

Alternative Treatments

I have to say, I’m not ‘feeling the love’ from the medical system this time around.

I haven’t seen my own oncologist for about a year & a half (just after my lung surgery and even then I had to specifically ask to see him). I feel like I’ve been abandoned and pushed from one doctor-of-the-day to another and have had little information going into this.

I requested a copy of my lab reports and the good news is that my bone scan shows no evidence of metastatic disease in the bone. But the OPINION section says: “Interval appearance of multiple tiny bilateral lung parenchymal nodules. Findings are worrisome for metastatic deposits.” Does that mean there is a small chance that it isn’t metastatic? Highly unlikely, but I’d hate to think I’m going through this chemo for nothing…

So I’ve been researching other alternative treatments to deal with the chemo effects and to fight the cancer. I saw an energy therapist in Nova Scotia that used plant and insect extract to neutralize the cancer cells in my body. After an intense 2-hour session with him, I can’t decide if he’s brilliant or a quack. Either way, he didn’t do anything invasive and I think it was $145 well invested, on the chance that what he did could make a difference.

I’ve also started seeing a Naturopathic Doctor who is giving me the support that I feel is lacking from the cancer clinic. Some of her recommendations include a change of diet to eat 80% foods that are alkaline and 20% that are acidic. That means lots of veggies & fruit; no refined sugars, white flour & processed food; decreased milk & wheat products; and lots of green tea. (Bye-bye to the sweets I’ve been struggling to give up anyway.) I’m also taking a series of supplements that will help to protect my liver and other organics during chemo, and hopefully work against the cancer.

I spent over an hour this morning putting together a schedule for taking all of my medications, vitamins and other supplements. This is turning out to be a full-time job!

Farewell to Nova Scotia

Our last few days in Halifax were bittersweet. The sun finally decided to shine and we tried to cram as much as possible into the beautiful end-of-summer weather, very conscious of the fact that our time there was quickly coming to an end. We sat at a lookout in Herring Cove and watched the waves roll in and turn into foam as they crashed on the rocks below us.

We climbed the Dingle Tower for a spectacular view of my hometown. We ate a picnic breakfast in the Public Gardens, which hasn’t changed much since I was a child.

Erin took us to Long Lake for a swim and then we went walked in the sand and surf at Crystal Crescent Beach.

Being by the ocean was just what I needed to prepare me for the road ahead. I could feel the salt air recharging my batteries and the powerful surf sharing its strength with me. Our last days flew by much too quickly and then it was time for Adam to get on a plane to the Netherlands and for me to return home to prepare for my treatment on Tuesday.
When I arrived at the airport in Ottawa, my mom was waiting for me. I quickly switched roles from being the parent wanting to protect her child to being the child taken care of by her parent. I remember thinking when I first found out the cancer was back that ‘I want my mom’. I’m incredibly lucky to have a mom who is a natural caregiver and so willing to do whatever she can to help me through this.

HAIR - by Mary O'Rourke

Here's something my friend Mary wrote about yet another lovely side effect of chemo. Thank you Mary, for being my first official "guest blogger".
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I have a bad comb-over. And I am not a used car salesman. I’m a middle-aged woman with male-pattern baldness.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a happy camper and a remarkably vigorous one for someone “living with cancer.” I bike, hike, paddle, ski and travel – with product, hair product that is. When I roll out of bed in the morning, I look like a cross between Albert Einstein and a crested grebe. The wispy bits of hair on top of my head stand on end. It takes time and product to get things slicked down and plumped up just right. Then I’m ready to face the world.

At the beginning, 15 years ago, I had great hair. Long, dark, thick and lustrous. Wore it down past my shoulders to make my skinny-haired sisters jealous. Then the doc announced I had the big C, breast cancer.

A momentous, movie-of-the-week moment. Some people worry about dying. Some worry that they’ll miss little Johnny’s graduation. Others fear spending all their time throwing up. Me, I wondered how I was going to handle the humiliation of wearing one of those creepy little cotton turbans that scream, “Look at me, I’m a pathetic sick person.”

So I got a list of the best rug experts in town. Number one fell way short of the mark. Tammy Faye and Loretta Lynn look great at the Grand Ole Opry, but don’t really cut it on Parliament Hill here in Ottawa. “Do you have anything shorter, more business-like?” I asked the girl. “Most people don’t care what kind of wig it is once their hair starts falling out,” she replied helpfully.

Luckily, when friend Martha and I finish laughing ourselves sick, we find Caralyn. Mature, wonderful Caralyn is a hairdresser with a separate entrance for the follicly challenged. In the inner sanctum, she tactfully suggests a chin-length brown bob. It has a few strands of grey woven in to match my natural colour. The con job works so well that I get far more compliments than I ever get on my real hair.

Fast-forward six months. Summer’s coming and I’m now so sick of the damn wig that I’m ready to embrace my inner skinhead. Which I do, until my hair finally grows back. Same hair, life goes on.

Until the next time, that is. Who knew that a persistent cough would lead to more adventures in hairdressing? But it does. I get a new wig, sail through treatment for the spots in my lungs. And then the cosmic joke strikes. Just as I’m admiring the hair growing in, I realize it’s re-arranged itself, without my permission!

It may not actually be male-pattern baldness, but thanks to the cocktail of chemicals I’ve been treated with, my hair is now thinner on the top third of my head than on the back and sides. Call me crazy, but this annoys me far more than the bone mets in my hip which were later treated, very successfully, with radiation

Well, as my friends say, bad hair is still way better than the alternative. But just in case, here’s how I want my epitaph to read: She died after a long and cranky battle with cancer and hair care.

Click here to read more about Mary (who just happens to look lovely with her less-than-previously-abundant pixie hair cut).

Happy Birthday to me!

Welcome to my 2nd annual birthday-in-Halifax celebration. Adam & I spent the day wondering around the waterfront and then met up with my niece Erin for dinner at the Wooden Monkey. Lots of calls and great gifts, but the best was spending my birthday with Adam.
It’s Sunday morning and we’re sitting in a Starbucks on Spring Garden Road, both on laptops (mother & son nerds), and life seems normal. How can it be that I have cancer in both of my lungs? Am I really about to start chemo again in a little over a week? I keep watching for signs: Am I more out of breath than usual after walking up a hill? Is my sore throat the start of a cold, or could it be something more? I’m working at staying in the moment so there isn’t a dark cloud over my time in Halifax with Adam. The literal clouds are making that a bit difficult. Where is the sun???

The Devil at the Door

A recent CT scan confirmed that the cancer is back in my lungs. This time it’s not a single tumor, but rather a scattering of small “spots” in both lungs (not sure that they are big enough to be called tumors). Surgery and radiation are not options, so I’m limited to chemo, along with some other non-conventional options such as alternative therapies (more to follow on that topic) or simply curling up into the fetal position. While I’ve considered the later, the practical side of me has opted for chemotherapy starting on September 9th.

The hardest part has been telling my family that it’s back. Understandably, they have questions that can’t be answered; questions like: WHY? I’ve given up trying to figure that one out and am putting my energy into enjoying my life. I felt the need to be “home” and near the ocean. So I’m spending the next week & a half in Nova Scotia getting prepared to start treatment when I return. The ocean gives me a sense of peace, which is the right place for my head to be as I face the side effects of Taxotere over the next several months. And the best part is that my son Adam (who is currently living is Holland) has decided to meet me in Halifax.

I am fortunate to have great support from family & friends. In a recent email, my friend Judy wrote:

"At the Burlington Dragonboat Festival the song for the flower ceremony was Lean on Me. We spent an hour at a singing workshop learning the lyrics. It was a good choice and the many teams sang it lustily. Today in the car I heard the song on the radio as I was thinking of you. I got totally caught up in the words and sentiments. If life were a movie you would be standing in your doorway (the white one with the gingerbread trim) wearing your black running shirt (which looks really good on you). Snow would be softly falling and all your friends would be gathered on your deck belting out "Lean on Me" in perfect harmony. Unfortunately I am a horrible singer but I am singing it in my heart. I hope you can hear it. You have so many people to lean on. I can't believe I have forgotten most of the words but I blame it on being 60.

Lean on me when you're not strong, I'll be your strength, I'll help you carry on, Girl it won't be long, Till I'm gonna need somebody to lean on."

To balance that out, here’s another response, from Jacquelin. Shorter, but just as meaningfull…

"Fucking hell. Sorry, can’t think of any other way to respond."

Patricia

When I first met Patricia in a cancer support group in 1998, I’ll admit that I thought she was a bit too “new-agey” for my liking. During our group discussions she wrapped herself in a hand-woven blue shawl (which just happened to match the color of her eyes) and talked about things like 'Divine Light Invocation' and 'Dream Yoga'. The most shocking thing about our most controversial support group member was that she had refused any traditional treatment (lymph node dissection, chemotherapy, radiation, etc), other than the surgery necessary to remove a lump from her breast.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that Patricia probably knew more about her cancer and the effects of traditional treatment than any of us. She had witnessed first hand the death of her mother at a young age and then the death of her sister only a few months before her own diagnosis, both from breast cancer. Patricia made a decision to follow her own path. While the majority of us obediently did what the doctors told us to do – and prayed – Patricia researched alternative treatments and sought advice from alternative practitioners.

I also didn't realize that, in addition to being one of the most informed cancer patients I've ever met, Patricia would become the rock that most of us would turn to, for her wisdom and the calming effect she has in the midst of turmoil. I recently interviewed Patricia about her experience with recurrence and when I checked my notes I saw that I had written down “cancer explorer”. I’m not sure if the words came from her or from me, but it accurately describes her approach to living with cancer.

I also didn’t know that I would learn so much from Patricia, and that what she taught me would influence how I approach my own cancer journey.

I also didn't know that I would grow to love her like a sister.


Click here to read about what I’ve learned and continue to learn from my ‘bosom buddy’ Patricia.

If you would like to read about other women living with cancer, click on "Cancer Heroes" below.