Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
I'm still on the cancer-brick road...
Two weeks from today on July 13th will mark 4 years since my oncologist told me that my thyroid cancer was in remission. As I approach that milestone I realize how much my body has gone through, how many emotions I've gone through. And I also realize that I'm still on that path to accepting it and understanding it all.
I realize now that for so much of my treatment I was in shock and maybe even denial. Between having cancer and losing my father to cancer, I have learned something about myself. When I see trouble coming, I am famous for saying to my husband "I can't do this". But when trouble comes along and takes me by surprise (and cancer has done this to me twice now) I am able to go on autopilot. I am able to be strong and motor on through. I remember the day I was diagnosed so clearly. It was quite surprising as I'd been told that I did not have cancer. I went in to have my incision checked on. I felt like a little girl sitting there while my surgeon carefully and tenderly removed my steri-strips and gently told me that I had cancer. I didn't cry. My life didn't flash before my eyes. I didn't worry if I would die. I said "ok, what next?" The only question I could think of when he asked me if I had any questions was "Am I going to lose my hair?". I was on auto-pilot. And I stayed that way for months.
Gradually I had breakthroughs of anger and sadness. I was angry that it happened to me. I was angry for how it changed my life. I was sad that it happened to me. And I was sad that it was so hard to get people to understand how I was feeling. I am currently reading Kelly Corrigan's book "The Middle Place". She puts it into words better than I can...
"They talked about cancer like it was something to get through, to treat, to beat. They never said that it was going to change everything, all my plans, and take things away from me that I had wanted since I was a child. They said it was gonna be a bad year. So doesn't that mean that when the bad year is over, when you do everything you are told to do--and with a goddamn smile, no less--you get to go back to the life you had?"
As I'm reading this book, I realize how little of my feelings I've really processed. The things that Corrigan says in her book make me wonder if she's reading my mind. She puts into words the things I felt and still feel about my cancer perfectly. The things I haven't said to anyone either because I couldn't label how I was feeling or because I just knew that it wouldn't be received well. I realize that long ago I stopped trying to talk about what I was feeling because it made other people uncomfortable. Or sometimes what they said would make me uncomfortable. Because they didn't really understand and it was hard for me to help them understand.
Cancer has changed my life forever. In some ways for the better. It has given me insight that I might not have had otherwise. It's made me more empathetic. But it took things from me too. It took the otherwise healthy body I had away from me. It created new fears in my mind where I had none. It changed my plans for my life. It changed who I am. It put me in the category of the others....those who have experienced cancer or a life threatening or serious illness. It made me battle-weary.
I have looked forward to that 5 year remission goal for some time. One more year and I'm there. One more year until I'm insurable again. I'm a lower risk. But I know now that there's nothing magic about the number 5. My cancer could recur at any time. For those who call it "the good cancer", did you know that I might never be cured? What's good about that?
From thyca.org:
"While the prognosis for most thyroid cancer patients is very good, the rate of recurrence can be up to 30%, and recurrences can occur even decades after the initial diagnosis. Therefore, it is important that patients get regular follow-up examinations to detect whether the cancer has re-emerged. Monitoring should continue throughout the patient’s lifetime."
That fact sits in the back of my head all the time. Winding up with thyroid cancer in the first place at my age was a small chance. So I don't put a whole lot of faith in that only 30% have a recurrence and that I'll fall in the other 70%...after all my cancer was Stage III. I don't obsess over it, but it's there lurking.
So while I know I'm great at auto-pilot when I need to push through a crisis, I also realize now that I have to deal with what I'm feeling. I have to do it whether it's uncomfortable for me or anyone else. It's okay to still be sad or angry about having cancer even though I'm enjoying my 4th year of remission. It's okay to not be finished with emotional journey that cancer has tossed me on. I realize that there is a difference between obsessing over what was or what could have been and dealing with how this feels.
As I continue to be vigilant with my check-ups, I shall continue to be honest with myself about how this feels. Hiding cancer away in a dark corner only allows for it to become a stronger force in my life while I'm not paying attention. Out in the light I can fight back, knowing what I'm up against.
I realize now that for so much of my treatment I was in shock and maybe even denial. Between having cancer and losing my father to cancer, I have learned something about myself. When I see trouble coming, I am famous for saying to my husband "I can't do this". But when trouble comes along and takes me by surprise (and cancer has done this to me twice now) I am able to go on autopilot. I am able to be strong and motor on through. I remember the day I was diagnosed so clearly. It was quite surprising as I'd been told that I did not have cancer. I went in to have my incision checked on. I felt like a little girl sitting there while my surgeon carefully and tenderly removed my steri-strips and gently told me that I had cancer. I didn't cry. My life didn't flash before my eyes. I didn't worry if I would die. I said "ok, what next?" The only question I could think of when he asked me if I had any questions was "Am I going to lose my hair?". I was on auto-pilot. And I stayed that way for months.
Gradually I had breakthroughs of anger and sadness. I was angry that it happened to me. I was angry for how it changed my life. I was sad that it happened to me. And I was sad that it was so hard to get people to understand how I was feeling. I am currently reading Kelly Corrigan's book "The Middle Place". She puts it into words better than I can...
"They talked about cancer like it was something to get through, to treat, to beat. They never said that it was going to change everything, all my plans, and take things away from me that I had wanted since I was a child. They said it was gonna be a bad year. So doesn't that mean that when the bad year is over, when you do everything you are told to do--and with a goddamn smile, no less--you get to go back to the life you had?"
As I'm reading this book, I realize how little of my feelings I've really processed. The things that Corrigan says in her book make me wonder if she's reading my mind. She puts into words the things I felt and still feel about my cancer perfectly. The things I haven't said to anyone either because I couldn't label how I was feeling or because I just knew that it wouldn't be received well. I realize that long ago I stopped trying to talk about what I was feeling because it made other people uncomfortable. Or sometimes what they said would make me uncomfortable. Because they didn't really understand and it was hard for me to help them understand.
Cancer has changed my life forever. In some ways for the better. It has given me insight that I might not have had otherwise. It's made me more empathetic. But it took things from me too. It took the otherwise healthy body I had away from me. It created new fears in my mind where I had none. It changed my plans for my life. It changed who I am. It put me in the category of the others....those who have experienced cancer or a life threatening or serious illness. It made me battle-weary.
I have looked forward to that 5 year remission goal for some time. One more year and I'm there. One more year until I'm insurable again. I'm a lower risk. But I know now that there's nothing magic about the number 5. My cancer could recur at any time. For those who call it "the good cancer", did you know that I might never be cured? What's good about that?
From thyca.org:
"While the prognosis for most thyroid cancer patients is very good, the rate of recurrence can be up to 30%, and recurrences can occur even decades after the initial diagnosis. Therefore, it is important that patients get regular follow-up examinations to detect whether the cancer has re-emerged. Monitoring should continue throughout the patient’s lifetime."
That fact sits in the back of my head all the time. Winding up with thyroid cancer in the first place at my age was a small chance. So I don't put a whole lot of faith in that only 30% have a recurrence and that I'll fall in the other 70%...after all my cancer was Stage III. I don't obsess over it, but it's there lurking.
So while I know I'm great at auto-pilot when I need to push through a crisis, I also realize now that I have to deal with what I'm feeling. I have to do it whether it's uncomfortable for me or anyone else. It's okay to still be sad or angry about having cancer even though I'm enjoying my 4th year of remission. It's okay to not be finished with emotional journey that cancer has tossed me on. I realize that there is a difference between obsessing over what was or what could have been and dealing with how this feels.
As I continue to be vigilant with my check-ups, I shall continue to be honest with myself about how this feels. Hiding cancer away in a dark corner only allows for it to become a stronger force in my life while I'm not paying attention. Out in the light I can fight back, knowing what I'm up against.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
My perfect day
My therapist is always asking me "what do you need?". And often my answer is "more quiet time" or "sleep". I also think I need a great day of indulging myself. So it got me thinking about my "perfect day". My perfect day would go pretty much like this....
Coffee and a blueberry muffin or the like for breakfast eaten outside on my balcony. Even better if the birds are singing and I can watch the occasional plane take-off or landing going on at the airport across the street.
A late morning manicure/pedicure with a good friend or two.
Eating lunch out at a cool cafe where they have chicken salad on a croissant or a great tomato soup. Followed by doing a little shopping. I'd love to hit up some thrift stores and hunt for some treasures.
Then catching a movie, preferably something that makes me laugh.
Have a late dinner (pizza with the kids) and then doing a fire in our fire pit. Sitting around having good conversation while drinking some wine.
That would a perfect day in my book. What is your idea of a perfect day?
Coffee and a blueberry muffin or the like for breakfast eaten outside on my balcony. Even better if the birds are singing and I can watch the occasional plane take-off or landing going on at the airport across the street.
A late morning manicure/pedicure with a good friend or two.
Eating lunch out at a cool cafe where they have chicken salad on a croissant or a great tomato soup. Followed by doing a little shopping. I'd love to hit up some thrift stores and hunt for some treasures.
Then catching a movie, preferably something that makes me laugh.
Have a late dinner (pizza with the kids) and then doing a fire in our fire pit. Sitting around having good conversation while drinking some wine.
That would a perfect day in my book. What is your idea of a perfect day?
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Decorating ideas
One of the rooms that I most want to work on finishing in our house is our master bedroom. It feels often like the dumping ground for things that don't belong anywhere else rather than a restful oasis. It's also a room that has to function as our office space too. It's where I do homework & scrapbook, Josh does work, and the kids play computer games. My awesomely creative livejournal friend, Eve offered to help me with some design ideas. She came up with some fabulous ideas that I can't wait to start implementing. Check it out on her blog: Modachrome Home
Friday, June 11, 2010
Friday's Wisdom
"Once in a great while, a person is confronted with a choice, the implications of which are so profound that its resolution affects your life forever. But that happens rarely and to relatively few people. For most people, life is long enough and varied enough to overcome occasional mistakes and failures.
"You might think that I'm now going to advise you not to be afraid to fail. I'm not. Be afraid. Speaking from considerable experience, failing stinks. Just don't be undone by it. Failure is no more a permanent condition than is success."
— Sen. John McCain
"You might think that I'm now going to advise you not to be afraid to fail. I'm not. Be afraid. Speaking from considerable experience, failing stinks. Just don't be undone by it. Failure is no more a permanent condition than is success."
— Sen. John McCain
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Buh-Bye Tonsils!
Yesterday Abby had her tonsils & adenoids removed. She also had tubes put into her ears. It was her first surgery and hopefully the only one she'll ever need. I was a nervous wreck while we waited for the surgery day to arrive. I am so relieved that it's over with and Abby is on the road to recovery.
Here's the little patient:
The hospital staff dressed her Hello Kitty up for surgery too.
The upside to tonsil surgery...popsicles and ice cream!
Taking a nice long nap in Mommy & Daddy's bed at home. (She was only at the hospital for 5 hours)
Here's the little patient:
The hospital staff dressed her Hello Kitty up for surgery too.
The upside to tonsil surgery...popsicles and ice cream!
Taking a nice long nap in Mommy & Daddy's bed at home. (She was only at the hospital for 5 hours)
Book Review: Fat Girl
I just finished reading "Fat Girl" by Judith Moore and thought I'd share my reaction. I honestly expected this to be like every other fat women's memoir. Part humiliation, part humor with an obvious overtone of how the main character's unhappiness will all be solved by losing 50 pounds. "Fat Girl" took me by surprise. There isn't any really any lesson to be learned. This is not a happy story of how the girl loses weight and finds her perfect ending. This is more of a story about a girl's super unhappy childhood. And by the way, this girl happens to be fat. She is punished for her weight by her sadistic mother and grandmother and abandoned by her father and his family. Judith resorts to some pretty desperate measures to feel loved, including finding comfort in food. Her descriptions are great and you can easily feel like you are right there in Judith's horrid childhood. An interesting read, but definitely not a feel-good memoir.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Love this
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer. ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Operation get healthy: an update
I went to see my primary care doctor this morning and got pretty good feedback. My blood pressure is under control with the 20mg of Lisinopril I've been taking. I shared my frustrations about adjusting to my cpap machine and was really pleased with his reaction. He said that my neurologist should change my mask and/or machine. If he doesn't, my primary doc will send me to someone else. He also referred me to an ENT to see if having my tonsils out will help with my apnea. My objection to that surgery is that my tongue may still fall back over my airway, but I'm willing to see what the ENT will say. If they felt I had a pretty good chance of curing my apnea with surgery, I'd consider it.
I did get a reminder to work harder on the weight loss. I'm working on it. I eat mostly low carbs these days, but that emotional eating is the hard part to overcome. I deal with it in my weekly therapy to some extent. It's hard to undo 33 years of dealing with my emotions through food. I started reading:
I feel like this book was written with me in my mind. If you have issues with emotional eating, I recommend checking it out.
I did get a reminder to work harder on the weight loss. I'm working on it. I eat mostly low carbs these days, but that emotional eating is the hard part to overcome. I deal with it in my weekly therapy to some extent. It's hard to undo 33 years of dealing with my emotions through food. I started reading:
I feel like this book was written with me in my mind. If you have issues with emotional eating, I recommend checking it out.
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