sgh1031's Cancer Blog
August 9, 2010
My painter pointed out that today is 8-9-10, one of those rare days that can happen only a few times in a century. I didn’t stop to check the accuracy of his statement, but for now I will assume its truth. I must also assume that this rare day is also a lucky one, because today my doctor declared me cancer free.
“Cancer free” is a strange concept, as I wondered today what it is that I am truly free of. Recovery? There is still a ways to go. Frustration? With every new limitation that did not exist seven months ago. Fear? With every new pain. Worry? With every appointment and scan. Stress? I’m an attorney in New York City with an Empire-sized mortgage – let’s be serious. Cancer or no cancer, it seems I am stuck with these burdens.
So here is what I came up with instead:
Cancer arrests the everyday. Morning lattes give way to morning sickness. Vitamins give way to anti-nausea meds and steroids. Office meetings become hospital bedside vistits, and gossiping at the water cooler becomes idle chatter over the whir of a chemo drip. Holding hands is replaced with holding your hair back (or what’s left of it), and exercise may be nothing more than shuffling between the bed and the sofa.
But if you can look beyond these temporary shackles (and sometimes you have to strain really REALLY hard) of today, you can see the life you want tomorrow just over the fence – and it’s not necessarily the one you had been living.
I think, then, “cancer free” really means the freedom to take back your life. Possibly a better one.
I agree with what you said…I like the taking back! I am working on that, but the limitations are frustrating. I am a counselor and two years after surgery and four months post-chemo I still cannot sit in a chair all day, absolutely cannot stand more than 5 minutes before the pain reaches an eight, and then when I try to get out of the chair I look like an 80 year old woman and I am only 37… But cancer is not stopping me from attempting to get my life back slowly. A friend reminded me the other week, that it took me 2.5 years to recover to the point I am at right now, and 5 months ago I was still using a walker to get around. Today I can actually walk around Sam’s (as long as it is the first place I go) without getting the little cart to ride in, that is huge progress. We need to always count our blessings!
I am so happy that you are cancer free today and can keep moving forward in your recovery process. Cancer is not trivial and it is surprising how many people think it is no big deal.
Melinda
Posted on Congratulations. Although not completely over, this is an important milestone for you. Enjoy this time.
Posted on Congrats! I so hope to be there one day. Cancer-free sounds great!
Posted on August 7, 2010
It’s been too long time since I last posted a blog entry. I know this because I have started hearing that dreaded question again – HAYF?
Since treatment ended, I have been trying to learn my body’s new limitations. I should preface this entry by saying that I don’t like limitations. I’m fairly confident they are excuses designed to keep me from doing precisely what I want to do. (This includes speed limits.)
My mind and body are in a battle over limitations. My mind desperately begs my body to try harder, move faster, push further, keep up. In response, my body teases my mind. Some days it plays just as hard, runs just as fast, goes just as far; other days, it just doesn’t. My mind retaliates by racing uncontrollably at night, depriving my body of rest; becomes fuzzy at work, forcing my body to work longer hours in a chair lacking adequate lumbar support. My body retreats to a fall-back position: shut down.
You know how a stubborn child can simply go limp, thereby imposing its will in a surprisingly effective way? My body is that child; after one too many days of testing its limits, it simply goes limp. And like any parent, my mind must choose between trying to carry this limp noodle forward or letting it lie there while it calms down. Last night was Friday night. I was in bed by 9 PM.
Sometimes when my mind forgets that my body has endured traumatic new experiences during the past seven months and that recovery will take time, my body reminds it in unpleasant ways. If you have read previous entries, you know that I had 19 lymph nodes removed in January. The lymphatic fluid previously meandering through those node, apparently angered by their removal and being subjected to radiation, has yet to reabsorb properly. When I move heavy objects, it swells. When I move lots of heavy objects over the course of many days, as I recently did moving into a new apartment, it swells alarmingly.
This swelling prompted frantic phone calls to my medical oncologist, surgerical oncologist, nurse practitioner, and a friend we call “doctor Deb.” Doctor Deb had the unfortunate luck of being first to answer the phone. She talked me off the ledge, and also provided some perhaps unorthodox advice. After the movers had gone, I put on Spanx, stretched out, put my feet up, put a bag of frozen fruit THERE (we didn’t have peas), and tried my best to ignore my boyfriend. Sort of an if-I-can’t-see-you-you-can’t-see-me mentality. Embarassing? You betcha. Effective? Immediately.
The point is, I am forcing my mind to surrender. At least until it can learn that, at least for today, my body needs a break.
<Hi Safia,
There is a column in the Week in Review in today’s NY Times by a guy—(forget his name off hand, my newspaper is downstairs, and I am too lazy to get it)—who had heart surgery. He makes the point that doctors underestimate the time necessary for recovery.Despite our impatience at wanting to get back in the saddle, we are stuck with what our bodies can do. I’ve had more than one major surgery, and surgeons don’t ever say that they can’t put Humpty back together again. There will be residual numbness and various other weirdnesses.
I’m sorry that part of your body is protesting. For awhile, I guess you can keep peas in your fridge, and use as needed. Hang in there. You’ve been through a lot of procedures, and they were not so long ago.
Be well.
Andrea
Posted on Hi Safia. Great to hear from you. I understand exactly what you mean about the mind vs body battle. I am feeling generally well even though I am about to start week 5 of radiation w/ weekly Cisplatin (only 1/2 dose). My body also lets me know immediately when I’m crossing the line, but I still keep pushing the line back! Anyway, glad to hear things are going well for you and any suggestions you have for week 5 and 6 of radiation and surviving 3 internal radiations would be great. Take Care, Colleen
Posted on 
Thanks for your support - 
