Another Good News Update

Yet another set of biopsies has come and gone and I'm still given the all-clear. In fact, the next steps are to get me pregnant, if that's even possible. It still feels so soon. It hasn't been a year since my last treatment of any kind. Rushing it feels like a bad idea. But I haven't had my period in over a year, so hormone therapy is on the horizon anyway. And the fertility doctor happens to be on vacation when I'm next in Berlin (for biopsies) - sigh. It could take some time for my body to get back to something like normal, and then it's maybe, kind of possible that I could get pregnant. But it seems like a long shot, no matter how you slice it. I'm better adjusted to the prospect than I was a year ago, but it's still heartbreaking.

I've kind of got the edema under control. Edema is the last thing side effect remaining. I've found that the biggest trouble-makers are nights when I don't stay in bed for at least 8 hours (and preferably 9 or even 10) and hot showers. Ugh. I love hot showers. But I can count on them to make the edema flair up so I have to kind of take it easy. I wear compression stockings every day and I'm still having weekly lymph drainage physical therapy massage, which is very nice and I think it really helps. After a couple more sessions I'm taking a break for a few months to see how I do.

Spring feels good.

Staying Alive

It's been just over a year since I received the diagnosis, and nearly exactly a year since surgery. I feel almost normal, physically. There are reminders, like lymphedema. I'm frustrated by the guilt I saddle myself with about drinking alcohol or eating sugar, and somewhere deep down I know that I am still just barely out of the physical and psychological trauma of cancer treatments. But what can you do? Keep moving forward. I've got another check-up next week. I've hardly thought beyond the logistics of a quick trip to Berlin. No big deal? I guess we'll find out soon.

A confluence of music and curiosity brought me to an article about surviving cancer treatment and moving on. The choices people make when they face down the threat of a slow, painful, inevitable death, and then the slow, painful treatment and recovery. What then? The cliches hold. People can do amazing things, from enjoying their day-to-day lives completely to learning to fly airplanes.

Then the Guardian posted this article, also about cancer and survival. I like this one in particular because it helps remind me that taking care of myself is important, but it's not the whole story. If a guy can be in peak physical shape and still get cancer three times, I guess I don't have to guilt trip myself about relaxing with my husband over a beer after a 2 hour walk with the dog. As much as I wish I could save myself through action, I may have no control whatsoever.

Happy music anyone?

A Humorous Touch

A couple of really sweet stories have come my way recently about what others have done for cancer patients in order to help them get through treatment. They should be shared widely, but I warn you that they may also make you cry. Good tears, hopefully.


First a story (links to a non-video version via Buzzfeed, in case you don't wanna watch a video right now) about a man who dressed in a tutu and took photos to make his wife laugh. He says, 'This all sucks, you know, and it's stupid that it's happening,' in reference to cancer. My sentiments exactly.


Next, the story of a foundation that wanted to help cancer patients forget about it all, even if only for a moment.

In Recent News: Avoiding Cancer

I saw an Atlantic article come through the ol'Facebook newsfeed and it reminded me that I promised someone I'd tell you all about Mesothelioma. What?

First, the article, which is about avoiding gynecological cancers that are linked to HPV. There's even a link between other cancers and HPV. If you can get the HPV vaccine, do it. Why? Because this little virus is very good at mutating cells in ways that eventually lead to cancer. Seriously. There are a few dangerous things about HPV. First of all everyone seems to have some strain of it at some point in their life and there's no cure. Second, it shows no symptoms in men most of the time so dudes won't even know they have it and are passing it on to women. And finally: cell mutation, dysplasia, cancer. Just get vaccinated and vaccinate your kids. Read the articles linked above for more details.

And then there's Mesothelioma. This is another avoidable cancer, which is why the HPV vaccine article reminded me of it. Mesothelioma is a cancer of the mesothelium, or thin lining of internal organs of the abdomen. Mesothelioma is the cancer that is caused by exposure to asbestos. I know that plenty of you are into DIY home improvement projects. Before you embark on those projects, learn about what asbestos is used in and don't breathe home improvement dust. No amount of exposure is okay.

You probably know that asbestos is bad for you and you think of it in relation to asbestos insulation. However, asbestos has been used in products from toasters to hair dryers to glue to home siding to paint. It's a naturally occurring rock that can be spun into fibrous insulation or used to make lightweight siding or planter boxes.

You also probably think that asbestos is no longer an issue in these modern times when we know about how bad it is. Sadly, so many houses were built before the health risks of asbestos were discovered that we're still seeing a lot of people being exposed. And even though asbestos is so obviously bad, it is not banned in the US and is still used in many applications.

Asbestos siding on homes may not be an issue if it's left alone. Asbestos used in glues that keep tiles on walls may not cause you any harm while the tiles stay glued to the wall. It turns out that all of us are exposed to asbestos at some point during our lives. The problems come if you breath in asbestos dust. The dust particles get lodged in the lungs and can cause inflammation, infection, and cell mutations that lead to cancer.

If you are remodeling a house, consider an asbestos inspection before you do any drilling, smashing, or DIY work. When homes are remodeled, asbestos gets disturbed and some dust is swirled up into the air. If you do any remodeling or work on your house at all, interior or exterior, use caution and consider an asbestos inspection beforehand.

The most likely Mesothelioma patients are people who have worked in construction, fire rescue, or navy workers; these are the people that have come into contact with asbestos on a regular basis for many years. Emergency workers and clean-up crews who were exposed to the rubble of the World Trade Center are at especially high risk. Before the risks were understood, construction workers used to come home covered in asbestos dust, and family members often contracted Mesothelioma, lung cancer, or suffered from other respiratory problems. These days, safety requirements have been increased to help reduce exposure. But most people don't realize how prevalent asbestos is.

Mesothelioma doesn't necessarily present until 10 to 40 years after exposure. And there is no cure.

The Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance contacted me and asked if I would write a blog post about this completely preventable cancer. It's slightly off-topic, but I said I'd be happy to spread the word. Just be careful, guys, and know the risks so you can avoid exposure to asbestos.


References:

http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/factsheet/Risk/asbestos
http://www2.epa.gov/asbestos
http://www.mesothelioma.com

The News is Good

Woo hoo! Five biopsies and all cancer-free. Thank goodness. Yay! is the understatement of the day - yaaaaaay!

A Nothing Update

There's no news because there's no news. I went to Berlin for an MRI, which takes a week to be processed. I guess. Dr. Halwani (surgeon) wanted to see me after, so I got an appointment with him for Nov 12th. Then we'll do a biopsy, I assume. Meanwhile, Berlin looked like this:

Maybe you remember this park, maybe you don't. I definitely posted pictures of it covered in snow and then again all green with spring growth. First time in a long time that I've seen a place during more than two seasons.

Strangely, I was looking forward to going back. You'd think I'd be pretty wary, considering the associations I have with the city. But it seems my memory is already changing at the feelings level. A clever tactic, considering that I do not want to go back to the way I actually felt throughout treatment, even in my mind. Maybe it makes sense that I feel nostalgia, but intellectually it strikes me as strange. Thanks, brain.

Updates later this month.

To The End of Fall and Back

Cancer is weird. For many people, the symptoms are strange and untraceable at first, and then there's a death sentence. For others, there are almost no symptoms but the process of treatment is like dying a little bit. I'm one of the others. My time in Berlin during treatment was spent slowly dying, then I was allowed to come back to life and heal again.

The relief of life after the specter of death is immeasurable. It barely registers when you're drugged, exhausted beyond comprehension, but still it does register as relief.

For the first couple months after my last radiation treatment in early May, I was just glad to be improving and getting stronger again. Despite pain and troubles, things keep getting better. Now I'm almost entirely normal. Anything I suffer from is not particular to people with cancer, even if cancer treatment was the cause. Acid reflux? Everybody gets that from time to time. Edema? Not even as bad as what some of my friends with kids have described about their pregnancies. So I'm fine.

Now the anxiety. The cancer cells that were in me got zapped hard - trust me, I was there. I probably don't have to be afraid of cancer coming back. But I have to get those tests done, and now the tests are looming. I cannot help but consider what will happen if the biopsy comes back positive for more cancer cells that are not fried to a crisp. I guess that's part of the deal. Spiraling back towards near-death? I stumbled upon a blog called Teaching Cancer to Cry, kept by a man who has terminal cancer and is no longer having treatment. It is terrifying and illuminating. I want to look away but I can't.

I crave an escape from the waiting. The usual routes are not really working. Work has been quiet. Wine gives me bad acid reflux, a reminder. I have a lot of time to think. It should be nice. Instead it's haunted.

I am anxiously awaiting the tests and the results and it will be a relief when that part is in motion. But I only have the MRI appointment lined up, because I don't live in the city with my health care providers. It's been frustrating. They want to wait to make further appointments until after the MRI, but I just want to make one trip to Berlin and get it all done quickly. And behind the tame frustrations of not getting the easy appointments that work best for me is the reality of what these appointments are for. I can't just skip it and do it later, actually, it's critical that this happens now.

Travel is a worthy distraction, and it has been good to be on the road. We took the train from Voss to Oslo, on a surprisingly old and wobbly set of tracks, considering the wealth of the country. The scenery was spectacular. We went up and over and as we gained altitude early fall sped past and turned to late fall, almost winter.

As we went over the pass and headed downhill again we went back in time. The trees had leaves again, they were red, they were yellow, and then the grass was green again.

 

Back at sea level, fall was just beginning.

Fall. Last fall I had normal problems. I was working through a tentative plan to settle down and have kids, without an idea of where that might happen or whether we'd be able to afford it. There were early signs of a problem which I did not understand the proportions of and maybe I should have taken action sooner. I just hope this winter is better than the last one. That shouldn't be too hard.