So You Have Cancer: 10 Things to Do Now, Even if You're Not Warren Buffett

 Another guest blogger, enjoy

Article originally printed in the Huffington Post.  Reprinted with permission.

Cancer is all over the news lately, thanks to early detection, celebrity patients, and those ubiquitous "Hey Cancer" ads. Though medical breakthroughs may be in the offing, the Big C still packs a psycho/spiritual wallop for the newly initiated, no matter what effective tax rate you pay. Here are 10 ways to beat back the cancer blues and be your own best friend:

1) Blame Canada -- Or Philip Morris. Or your stress-Nazi boss. Just don't blame yourself. Because even if it is your fault, right now it's not your fault. Nothing about cancer is your fault. Give yourself the Robin-Williams-in-Good-Will-Hunting Hug because it's not your fault. Once you're all better you can get down on yourself for smoking, or eating poorly, or internalizing your parent's guilt trips. For now, stay focused on getting better.

2) Divide and Conquer -- Learn survivor math. Say the median survival rate of your cancer is five years. Does that mean you will be dead in five years? No, math-slackers, it does not. The median is not the same as the average. A median rate (which is how survival rates are measured) means half the people with your condition will die before the median, most likely people WAY older and WAY more decrepit than you. Are you old and decrepit? Because if you're not then you can live another 10 or 20 or 50 years, depending on your age, even if the median is only five years. I used to hate math too, till I got cancer. Now it's kind of awesome.

3) Take Your Google and Stick it Up Your iPad -- Don't be a masochist and try to "learn" about your cancer on the Internet. Every other post you read will make you feel like you're gonna die any minute. Remember, just because people before you have died of cancer, or even your type of cancer, does NOT mean you will too. So take that, Google founder Larry Page, who once built an inkjet printer out of Lego (it's fine to search for that kind of useless dreck).

4) Trip Out, Dude -- Look yourself in the mirror and say: "I have cancer." It's weird the first time, like saying "I'm tripping on LSD" (not that I would know) -- but it helps to get used to the idea while you're all alone. You have cancer, you can survive, and sooner than you think you'll be looking in the mirror again going, "I don't have cancer anymore." That'll be weird too, but the good kind of weird. The magic mushroom kind of weird (not that I would know).

5) Get Into the Closet -- Keep the lights off. You are now a medical imaging device trying to see inside the total darkness of a human body. Sometimes you see things that aren't really there, like the CAT scan that "saw" potentially fatal tumors on my liver, till a sonogram "saw" they were only harmless cysts on my kidney. Whoops... glad I didn't jump off a bridge that week. So remember: trust but verify.

6) Think About Sex -- I'm a man, so I can't even get through a top 10 list without thinking about sex at least once. If sex is on your mind during these trying times, remember it's perfectly ethical to sidle up to a good-looking girl or guy and say: "You know, I wouldn't ordinarily be so bold, but I have cancer, so I was wondering if we could get naked together." At least you're not lying. Lying is unethical.

7) Channel Judge Judy -- Will your doctor keep probing and testing you because she thinks you have something else, or God forbid, something worse? Probably. Is he also making sure he doesn't get sued for misdiagnosis? Hmm... never thought of that. Doctors work in the real world, my friend. Their job is to be thorough, for many reasons, so keep a running list of each horror they look for but don't find. Not so you can sue anyone. Just to remind you not to be afraid of anything until you're absolutely sure you have it. And even then, just repeat step 3.

8) Tell it to the Hand -- No one knows what the hell to say to someone waylaid by cancer (my best friend asked if I owed him money -- at least it made me laugh). Informing loved ones is a HUGE burden, and you've got enough on your plate as is. Email is a solid way to keep your peeps up to date, and tell them what you need -- namely, their well-timed support. Trust me, you don't want all your loved ones calling for news every time you go to the doctor. With a group email, they can feel connected to you and also give you some much-needed space.

9) Turn On Your High Beams -- E.L. Doctorow once said this about writing, but it's true for surviving cancer as well: "It's like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." So each day, just focus on getting to tomorrow. That's the only "long-term" goal you need to be concerned with till you hit remission.

10) Count to 28 Million, Babe -- That's how many cancer survivors there are worldwide. And with a little luck, you'll be next. Number 28 million and one. Just like Lance Armstrong and Sheryl Crow over there at the bar. Wait, they broke up, didn't they? "You know, I wouldn't ordinarily be so bold but..."

 

Michael Solomon is an award-winning filmmaker and the author of "Now It's Funny... How I Survived Cancer, Divorce and Other Looming Disasters."

A Hero Named Holden

Another guest blogger, Enjoy

The word “cancer” sends chills of fear down the spines of just about anyone – but it might be most terrifying for a parent who hears the diagnosis for his or her child.

That was the case for the Harless family. An MRI at the Riley Hospital for Children at IU Health revealed their worst fears: the source of the back pain that their two-year-old son, Holden, had been complaining of was a spine tumor, not constipation as one doctor wrongfully diagnosed it.

But today, Holden runs around the family farm with the energetic abandon of a healthy eight-year-old.  He’s a heroic survivor and an example of the many triumphs being celebrated at the Riley Hospital for Children Cancer Center, the only such facility in Indiana and a recognized national leader in clinical care and research in cancers that affect children.

According to the National Cancer Institute (NCI), fewer than two American children out of every 10,000 under age 15 develop cancer. While relatively rare for children, cancer is still the second leading cause of death for Americans 1 to 14 years of age, after accidents. The American Cancer Society reports that in 2007, about 10,400 American children under age 15 were diagnosed with cancer and that about 1,545 children die from the disease each year.

Cancers of the central nervous system (CNS)—the brain, brain stem and spinal cord—are the second most frequent malignancy affecting children, and are more common in those under 7, like Holden. And the prognosis for children diagnosed with CNS cancer is less favorable than for other forms of childhood cancer, such as acute lymphoblastic leukemia.

Understandably, “terrifying” is the word Holden’s mother uses to describe the moment she heard his diagnosis. Even more frightening was the choice she faced: allow Holden to undergo surgery, or expect that in six months, without surgery, her son could be paralyzed and never walk again.

That the Harless family encountered such a grim prospect is unbelievable. That is, it’s unbelievable when you see Holden today, brimming with energy and the picture of health. That’s because the Harless family chose surgery, after discussing the options at Riley with pediatric neurosurgeon Jodi Smith, M.D.


Survival rates of children with cancer are on the upswing, according to a study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Childhood leukemia death rates fell by 3% a year, from 1990 to 2004, the study found, compared to 1% a year for childhood brain and other nervous system cancers. The CDC says improved treatment of childhood cancers is the likely reason for this.

All Mrs. Harless knows, and is thankful for, is that after Holden's surgery, “Dr. Jodi said Holden had done great and that it went better than she could have hoped for. All the doctors were great there. The physical therapists, the neurosurgeons, everyone was phenomenal. I can't thank Riley enough for what they did for Holden. They gave us our family and basically his life."

About the Author:  Jon Dawson is an attorney and professional writer in Indianapolis. He has first-hand experience with pediatric cancer as he lost his sister to the disease. Jon writes on behalf of IUHealth and also contributes to several blogs including www.DoseOfMyOwn.com.

Dormez-Vous?

Frère Jacques, frère Jacques,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!
Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don.

A song that I learned when I was a kid.  I had this stuffed toy, a white french poodle with a music box inside that played that song "Are you sleeping?, Are you sleeping?, brother John, brother John, Morning bells are ringing, Morning bells are Ringing, din dan don, din, dan, don"

5 years of high school french and this is what I remember.

Ironic.

But relevant.  I asked my Doc at my last checkup what could be making me tired.  She did the full round of tests thryoid, vitamin D etc.  Everything checked out.  Another mystery.

So then I began thinking ok, is this just residual side effects from chemo, radiation or who the hell knows what?

I do have chemobrain.  I know this for a fact.  Nothing better than looking like an idiot at the grocery store when the clerk asks you paper or plastic and you are looking right at the bags and the answer escapes you.

Ok side effect, sure, could be, but what could make me so damn tired?

Maybe I push myself too hard?

Work too much?

Go to bed too late?


All of the above?


None of the above?


Effexor

The meds I take to manage my "major depressive disorder" fancy word for depression make me tired.

I have to take effexor with food or else it will make me dizzy.

So I take it when I eat either at breakfast or at lunch.

About an hour and a half after that I start to get tired.

Now its a good thing I work at a radio station and not guarding the missiles in this country, or else we may be in trouble.

I can't stop taking Effexor because I would rather be tired than depressed.

But being tired and fatigued reminds me of when I was going through chemo, and it scares me a little

All those what ifs.

What if its not the meds?

What if the cancer comes back?

What if?

You can't live your life in what ifs.

And unfortunately you can't live your life nap to nap. 

I have tried.

People don't understand side effects, people who don't have to deal with them anyway. 

The meds also give me insomnia.

So I nap when I am tired then I try to sleep and sometimes I can't.

I know it sounds like bitching or whining, but its not.

Just explaining.

If you don't deal with side effects or what are called invisible illnesses, a great website started by my friend Christine Miserandino called   But you don't look sick

So if you see me up late online wondering "Man, does she ever sleep?"

Now you know the answer.

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes. 

PBS Series A Wider World Segment "Cancer Etiquette"

Survivorship and Depression

I was recently on the PBS series "A Wider World" to talk about my cancer survivorship. Here is a segment they filmed about my battle with depression.

My dinner with Susan

Remember when you were in school and the teacher asked you to pick one person dead or alive from any time in history to have dinner with, to talk to, to gain words of wisdom from?  I do.  I can't recall who I picked, but family members aside (yes Dad, you would be first, as long as dinner would include your delicious goulash)  I would pick Susan Komen to sit down and have dinner with.

"What???"  You are thinking...

"All the amazing people throughout history and you pick her?"

I am a bit of a history buff, I love the stories of how our country was founded, hey I grew up in one of the 13 original colonies, can't help that, and the whole story of Pearl Harbor intrigues me, but yes even with the chance of having dinner with John Adams or George Washington, I pick Susan G. Komen.

As any cancer survivor knows her battle and unfortunate death because of cancer started the Susan G. Komen foundation.

Nancy Brinker.

Susan Komen's sister.

Her name instills anger in many cancer survivors, because of the recent uproar over "pinkwashing", something I had written about in 2008 on the stupid cancer blog.

and then again dear dear Nancy and her Komen foundation created Promise Me perfume, ironically which could cause cancer, and most of us have issues with strong fragrances while going through chemo and well beyond that.

And now pulling funding from planned parenthood, which it seems to be a political move, and many assume that the poor and un and underinsured will not be able to get mammograms.

Then panic sets in.

Now lets be honest, Planned Parenthood isn't the only place women can get mammograms or cancer information. There is no need to press the panic button.

Komen however did press that panic button and decided to rescind their decision on  funding planned parenthood

Dinner time.

I can imagine Susan and I sitting down to dinner.

I think the first thing I would show her is the Komen website, show her where it says about Susan, which is little more than a glossed over story about Nancy.

Tell her that even though her sister has taken the pink ribbon and tried to sue other organizations for using it, as well as suing other organizations who use for the cure as if breast cancer is the only cancer we want cured.

Let her know that it was in fact Evelyn Lauder who created the pink ribbon campaign, and the Estee Lauder foundation has not tried to sue other organizations for use of the pink ribbon.

By this time I can imagine Susan is silent.  Wondering how this all has happened.  How an organization that was founded through, what I am sure was love, has become so large, so hated by many, including the very cancer survivors the organization was founded for.

I wish I could actually have this dinner, have this conversation. 

Wonder what she would say that her sister can't see the cancer awareness forest for the pink trees? 

Ask her how putting a pink ribbon on friskies or alcohol furthers research and awareness.

But I can't

I can only wonder how her sister Nancy became so far removed from what she started

for Susan.



Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes. 

Those three little words...

That was my dinner tonight.  Pancakes and bacon.  Everyone loves bacon right?  And pancakes make everything better (well they do, especially after visiting the emergency room twice in one night a month after starting chemo.)

So I started thinking, if my dinner could make my cancer come back.

Not like that is possible.  No one really knows what caused my cancer.

"I'm sorry Mel," the doctor would say," you shouldn't have had that pancake and bacon dinner on January 18,2012.  You should have stuck to your regular diet of chicken or fish and veggies."

Of course its in the waayyy back of my mind about recurrance, but its always there.  Floating around like a little bubble, sometimes you see it, sometimes you don't.

I had the latest issue of Cure Magazine next to me.  The title was "What caused my cancer?"

"I don't know."

Those three little words that I have heard so often from my doctors.

Could my cancer have been caused by my biological grandmother having cancer? 

Was it living in the San Fernando Valley for 10 years with all that smog?

Or perhaps it was working at that fancy restaurant that used to be an old cement factory.

Maybe it was just dumb fucking luck.

"I don't know."

Who is more frustrated, me the patient or my doctor?

I expect my doctor to know everything, but after all, they are just people, but shouldn't they know everything? 

We think that when we are crying about our diagnosis, or upset about a new illness, possibly brought on by our treatment for cancer.

Yep, those three words.

Think about how hard it would be to say those words to someone, when they look to you for the answers and yet you have none.

That must be extremely hard.

How hard?

I don't know....

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes. 

Help me pay it forward

If you are a subscriber to this blog, or just an avid reader of it you know that what I do is not for myself.  I do what I do, my podcast, my blog, speaking etc. to help others.  Its what I love to do is pay it forward.

So I am fundraising, Something I am admittedly terrible at, for a good cause, the Stupid Cancer organization, also known as I2Y or  the I'm too Young for this Foundation.  Yes I have written praises about the group several times before, something I only do if I believe in an organization.

When I was going through treatment I responded to a post requesting guest bloggers.  I guess Matt Zachary, the founder, liked my snarkyness because I was one of the bloggers that he picked.  Ultimately Matt and the organization  helped me find my voice through writing, which eventually led to my podcast. 

So I sing nothing but praises for Stupid Cancer (well not literally, no one wants to hear me sing.)

I was fortunate to go to the OMG stupid cancer summit in NYC last year, and even blogged about it on here. 

It was an amazing event.

Lifechanging.

Now I am asking for your help. 

I know times are tough. 

The economy sucks.

I was just at coinstar the other day cashing in the coins I had saved from my part time barista job.

But consider this:

A minimum tax deductible donation of $10 will help change a young adult survivors life. 

$10 bucks.. You could skip two lattes this week.  You wont miss it, and you will pay it forward

Someone like me, who felt so lost, so alone, thinking why did I get cancer?  Isn't this some old person's disease?

Its not a disease for someone who is healthy, athletic and in the prime of their life.

Sadlly though, it was.

Please donate to my fundraising page. 

Help me help others

Pay it forward.

No one should ever face cancer alone.

With your help, no one will.

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.

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

Enforcer

Hockey teams are like family.  We protect each other on and off the ice.   Many people think hockey is nothing but a boxing match on ice. To those people I say lace em up and see why you are wrong.

This has been a sad year for hockey.  Not only with the tragic loss of KHL Locomotiv team from a devastating plane crash, but two hockey players (Wade Belak and  Richard Rypien) took their own lives because of (assumingly) their battle with depression.

I subscribe to Sports Illustrated.  No surprise there to anyone I am sure.

Reading Brian Cazenueve's article about the deaths of 3 NHL players, in a few months, and the fact that they were all enforcers, it made me sad.  The fact that Mr. Cazenueve said that "A third untimely death may spur the NHL to take another look at 'place in the game"


Fighting.

Hmm.

Fighting has its place in hockey.  I am not one to disagree with that.  I do however disagree that the NHL should look at fighting as the root cause of these players tragic demise.

I battle depression.  I hate the word suffer, but yeah sometimes I do.  Mental illness still has a stigma attached to it.

Now imagine you are a tough guy in the NHL.  Would it be easy to tell someone that you are depressed?

I can tell you it wasn't for me, and I consider myself to be a strong person.

Not as physically strong as a professional hockey player, but strong nonetheless.

I kicked cancers ass, and continue to do so in this blog, and on my podcast.

But the hardest battles are the ones that others can't see.

My friend said to me recently:

Sometimes the scariest place is inside your own head


Maybe the NHL should focus on helping players from the inside out, not worry about players dropping the gloves.

Hockey teams are like a  family, and even though I am not in the NHL, or even close to being anywhere near a professional player, I am ok at best, I will drop the gloves for anyone battling depression or any other mental illness.

Even you.

Wanna go?




Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday~Friday 9am-noon eastern time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com Available on demand and also available on Itunes.

Celebration???

September 18th I will celebrate 4 years of being cancer free.

Most people go by the date they were diagnosed.

I always get more introspective closer to the date of my diagnosis.  I read old blog posts of mine, sometimes not believing how far I have come, and yet still how far I have to go.

Does anyone else find it strange that we celebrate a day that changed everything?

Don't get me wrong.  I am grateful for early detection.  For my doctors.  For the planets aligning for everything to have gone well so far.  I am grateful to God.

But celebrate a day that started out great and ended in a way I could not imagine.  In a way that changed my life forever?  In some good ways, in some bad.

Coming up on four years cancer free.  I am grateful I am here, and fighting the fight.

I am not celebrating the fact I had cancer.

I am celebrating the fact I found it in time, and that I am here, and that my doctors are, in my eyes, rockstars.

So if you see me with a sly grin you will know why.

Suck on that cancer.


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.

Merrells

Its funny how certain things can remind you of events.  Smells, taste, clothing.  I remember when my fiance Doug was in the hospital and I was wearing this original 6 hockey shirt, it had the team logos on it.  He seemed ok then he started staring at it and then he had a seizure.  (That is what he was in the hospital for) 

It took me a year to wear that shirt again.  I almost tossed it out, but me being a hockey fan, well, of course it stayed in my wardrobe.

I have this pair of Merrell sandals.  They are my favorite shoes.  Not only because they signal the advent of spring/summer, they are just so damn comfortable.  I wear them whenever I can.  Biking, at work, everywhere.  I almost wore them to the Warrior dash, but I knew they would get ruined.

I bought them in the bargain basement of a local store.  I am not sure what year, but I know it was before I was diagnosed in Sept of 2007.

Now I don't remember what I was wearing when I heard my doc say "It's cancer"   but I do remember I had to get my physical the next day.  It was already scheduled for Sept 19th. I remember sitting on the exam table waiting for the doc to come in, staring down at my Merrells wondering what the hell was happening to me.

That was almost 4 years ago.  As you can see from the photo, they are well worn, and they are loved, and yeah they helped me get through treatment.

So you may look at them and wonder why don't I get a new pair?

Now you know why.

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.

The art of language

Everything has its own language.  For example, if you were to sit down next to me and I started talking about hockey and you had no idea what a shot on goal, PIM, one timer was, you would think, what the hell is she talking about.

Language, words.  Everybody has a hobby or a job that has its own language or terminology.  My friend owns a pilates studio. Before I started taking pilates you told me well today we are getting on the cadillac and doing the one hundred, then we will do the tree and the elephant.  I would think wait, we are getting in a car and what going to the zoo.  ( I haven't done pilates in a while but I know you cant do the elephant on the cadillac, or at least I am pretty sure) 

Another friend of mine chemobabe is a math professor.  That has its own language too.  If someone came up to me and started talking about word problems, fractions or pi my eyes would start to glaze over and I wouldn't understand what they are talking about.  (Did I tell you I totally sucked at math in high school?)

Language. 

There is a language I have learned that I wish I didn't know.  The language of cancer.  The medical terminology that comes with being a cancer patient/survivor.  I can talk at lengths about zofran, chemobrain, side effects of herceptin, adrymicin.  Tell you how good Biafine felt after radiation. Talk about muga scans, ct scans, insomnia, constipation.  Tell you how it sucks when I get depressed. Language.

I hate knowing that language.  I wish I was blissfully ignorant of terms like chemo fatigue, neuropathy & left ventricle ejection fraction.

But I know them. 

As cancer survivors we all know them.  Unfortunately it is not like a foreign language where you get a semester to learn what everything means.  You are essentially tossed off the boat into the ocean, where you have to swim and figure this shit out either on your own, or with the help of friends, family and the internet.

Fortunately there are enough of us out there to help if you find yourself stuck in that ocean.  The sea of words.

I'll be around to toss you a life preserver and help you out.

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.

The Monster Within

We have all heard the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial.  Most of America was captivated by this case.  Most people are outraged by the verdict.

I didn't get into it.  It wasn't the crime of the century.  Yes it was, and well still is, a tragic story.  Most people think Casey Anthony is a monster, a killer. 

Casey Anthony has, if she is indeed guilty only killed one person.

I have a monster in me.  I didn't know I had it in me.  Many of my friends do as well

The monster is cancer.

This monster kills more than one innocent child.

It kills thousands a year.

Kids like Ellie Potvin:

and MacKenzie Stuck:

Why isn't there coverage every night on the major news channels about this?  Why doesn't the fact that a disease takes so much from so many, kids as well as adults, get broadcast every night?

Where is the outrage?

There is no tangible villain to see, no young mother who would rather party than spend time with her daughter.  No person we can look at and hate.  No one to get angry at.

Like I have said.  I was not captivated by the trial.  I am not outraged by the verdict.  When I look at Casey Anthony I don't see someone scary.

The monster with in me:  (that is a breast cancer cell pictured below)

 potentially in all of us, is a hell of a lot scarier.

Film at 11?

Probably not..

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.

Out of your comfort zone

Everything about cancer takes you out of your comfort zone.

When I heard those words "It's cancer"  my life changed forever, for good and for bad.

Bad, well, because cancer sucks, and the treatment and side effects are worse than the disease.

Good because of the friends I have made, the better person I have become, the voice it has given me.

Work recently did a team building day retreat at a local camp.  It had a rock climbing wall and other things that you could climb.  Not something that I would normally do.

I tried the rock wall.  Didn't get very high.  Disappointed in myself that I couldn't climb to the top.  Rock climbing really isn't my thing.

Then I tried climbing up a rope ladder to a beam 30 feet in the air.  Looked easy from the ground.  Halfway up I thought "What the hell was I thinking??"

I made it up to the top, and actually walked across the beam to the other side.  Then yeah you just jump off.  You are well harnessed in.  Bad pr if you get injured on a team building retreat and work at the local radio station.

As I watched my co workers climb, cheer each other on I was reminded of my battle with cancer.  How it takes you completely out of your comfort zone. Into a whole new world that you are not prepared for mentally or physically.  That most of us face challenges we would otherwise would never be subjected to, and how afterwards we do whatever we can to stay strong, whether it be run in marathons, do triathalons, bike races etc.

I walked in a Making Strides walk 11 days after my lumpectomy surgery.


We strive to stay strong, because we know what it is like to feel so weak.

Some of my friends have called me a machine, because I barely stop to take a break.  I do my radio job, then I usually exercise, I do grab a nap when I can, then I am on the computer working on pr/marketing for The Cancer Warrior or my other facebook clients, or surfing the net, talking to other survivors, reading blogs and posting.  Fighting the fight.

They say there is no rest for the weary, I don't completely agree with that. I am determined to stay strong, so that those who are weary, those survivors who I advocate for, can rest.

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.

Fractured

I have an oncology appointment next week.   I think it has been at least six months since my last one.  I am wondering if I should be more nervous than I am.  Haven't really had any scanxiety for the last few visits, but I have as I have written about before dealing with depression. 

I was wondering when my slow spiraling descent downward  started.  Blogging is a good way for me to remind myself of what has happened to me before, during and after treatment.

I think it started 7 months ago, I wrote a blog called Outbreak, about how I was dealing with 4 instances of cancer with deaths, recurrances and a good friends memorial service. I am really surprised that I didn't see it coming.  I knew I was upset at that point, but to get to where I got a few weeks ago was very slow.  Add the fact that more people passed from cancer that I had met in person or online (Mandi Schwartz, Sara Feather) its not surprising I was an emotional trainwreck.

I tend to ignore the signs, because I think I can handle it.  We all think that don't we? Doesn't matter what life throws at you, the saying goes if God brings you to it He will bring you through it, or something like that.  Apparently in my case not without prescription medication.

I believe that the hockey season kept me from going into a quicker downward descent.  Extreme physical exercise and being back on the ice after so long felt so good.  But it didn't and couldn't help everything that was going on in my head.  

Great, my body tries to kill me, I survive that, then my mind turns on me too.  I really don't want to ask what could possibly be next, because cancer was scary, not being in control of my thoughts and moods was even scarier.  

I feel bad for some people that I hurt.  I have apologized, they accepted.  But still.  To not be yourself for so long and to not see it, and have the changes be so minute that others don't notice it as well?

I got mad at a friend of mine for a stupid reason. It wasn't just mad.  There were some days that I couldn't stand being in the same room.  I believe because I was in that place and I was mad at her I unwittingly channeled my negative energy and anger towards her.  Unfortunately for her she was an easy target.  

I didn't realize this until after The Carcinista passed away.  I was consumed by anger and depression and I didn't see it for months. Or I ignored it, thinking it was nothing and it would go away.

After recording The Carcinista's interview I texted my friend:  I am thinking we should get together next week and talk in person and hash out this issue we have...  I was coming off of a cold and I didn't want to spread germs to anyone else.  She agreed, she had the same idea in mind.

May 3rd was when we agreed to meet.  Looking back at that day and that talk I had with her I was then end of my emotional rope, with no knot to tie on the end.  I really don't recall what was said in the conversation (part depression, part chemobrain)  wasn't sure I still wanted to be friends and left.

Then I found out that Sarah had passed.  

Its amazing what it takes to make you realize whats important. For so long you can obsess about the stupidest shit possible and be pissed and then something like that smacks reality back into your life.  Again I texted (my preferred mode of conversation these days) my friend.  Told her that life is too short for this BS.  Told her about the carcinista, well not everything, just that a friend had passed, and that I needed time.

Eventually we sorted everything out.  I can't say if things will be back to where they were.   Only time will tell.  But I do realize now that I have to be more mindful of myself and get pissed or sad at a non response to a text or an unreturned email. (yeah that was some of the stuff that bugged me, SERIOUSLY!!)  Getting upset at an unreturned text?  Still wonder why I didn't see this coming.  Must have been the lack of neuro-epi seritonin or whatever chemicals in my brain are over or under used.  

It took a while but I figured it out.  Only took about 7 months.  Never thought I was that slow of a learner.

Jean Paul Sartre said  Everything has been figured out, except how to live.

The Carcinista figured it out.  I am envisioning her smiling down upon me.  

Happy that I finally figured it out too.

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.

PUSH

Last week I went out with a couple of friends of mine for a day trip.  We went just a couple hours away to just have lunch, go shopping, girls day out. 

I have new hours at work.  I start work at 5:45am and work until noon, sometimes later on during the day.  I should go to bed early, but being a night owl is hard to give up.  I just can't get my ass in bed before 11pm on most nights.

So back to the trip.  It was a great day with friends. Started out about 10am and we got back home around 5 or 6pm.  Great food, a lot of laughs and some shopping thrown in there.

I didn't realize how much the trip to a town just an hour and a half away would wipe me out.  I didn't drive.  I have to ride up front, if I sit in the back seat I get car sick.  Always asking to sit in the front seat is a little embarrassing for me, but it beats the alternative.   Chemo made tolerance for that worse.

When I got home I had that fatigued feeling.  The same feeling I got when I was going through chemo, that tired worn out feeling.

Now being a 3 year survivor I would have thought that feeling like that would be gone.  But no, it isn't.

Being a cancer survivor is hard sometimes.  You do things you did before you had cancer, expecting it to be what it was like before, sometimes it is, sometimes it is not. 

This time it was not.  The fatigue I felt felt exactly like chemo fatigue.  Feelings like that can bring you right back to a particular moment.

Remembering how shitty you felt, or looked.

Even after playing hockey this season, even after the two times a week pilates session I did in addition to the hockey.

I still have times when I feel like that.

I hate that.

I have to remember that it still takes time to heal from cancer, even after three years.

I have to remember that I still have to push myself sometimes to get back to where I was before.

Or push myself past that, to be better than I was.

That is the place I want to be.

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.

The season

I play hockey.  That is not new to any readers of this blog. I played on a coed league this year.  Haven't played coed hockey since I lived in California, because of the expense, and I really wanted to try to get the women's hockey program of off the ground, but cancer had other plans.

So I really returned to the ice this year, in an organized hockey program.  Last time I hit the ice before this was 3 years ago

3 years.  

I found out about my cancer right before the season started in 2007.   I remember telling my teammates, that I had cancer.  That was hard.  It was shocking, both to them and to me. At that point I didn't know what my course of treatment was going to be. 

When I finally saw the surgeon and he told me I had to have a port put in I said, what I can't play hockey for two years?  I actually thought that!!  Isn't that crazy?  I know I have written about this moment many times, but that tells you what an important role hockey has played in my life.  

So I really didn't know what to expect when I was told about this coed league.  Like I said before I had played in California.  There were a few women here and there, I had 2 female teammates on my first team I played on.  Some teams had no women on them.  Some didn't like women playing hockey.  There wasn't a sense of camaraderie within the league, only on our team.

The league manager does a draft.  He tries to put different levels of abilities of players together.  Its a C league, which means we have beginners and intermediates mostly, and some people who play very well interspersed within the teams.  There are 4 teams in this league.  I played on Hartman Law.

Now let me tell you this, in California, we had to buy our jerseys home and away, which was fine.  There is nothing like getting your first jersey with your name on the back.  Its an awesome feeling.  This being a small town that I live in now that is not the case.  They have sponsors for the teams.  So they have jerseys already made for the team, kind of a bummer, but that's ok.  I looked in the bin full of jerseys, found one that wasn't too big, it was #6.

 I remember when I stepped onto the ice for the first game I felt shaky, it had after all been 3 years since I played, but it felt good.  

On the ice everything makes sense, you can take all your aggressions, frustrations, anger, happiness every emotion you have and use it to play.  Its a physical sport, and it can change in an instant with the bounce of the puck, a deflection or a pass. Its also a team sport. You can't win the game alone, you rely on your teammates.

We only played 9 games in the regular season, but I was grateful for every second on the ice.  We won 4 games lost one and tied 4.  

We were in first place.

I didn't score a point in the regular season, and I wanted to so bad.  I had scored goals before when I played in California, and in the first game I played when I moved to Michigan, but I really wanted to score a goal or get an assist.  

I didn't during the regular season.

We had a two game playoff.  The first game was close. We won

Holy shit, my team is in the finals.

I have never been on a winning team before.

Until now.

I don't know what the time was in the first period but I scored the first goal in our final game.

It was a one timer.

All I can remember is seeing the puck on my stick then looking up and seeing it hit the back of the net.

My first goal after cancer.  Awesome.

The game lasted 45 minutes.  Just a blip in time when you consider how long I was in treatment for.

45 minutes, and we played hard.

And won.

The cool thing about this league, is the cameraderie.  My team was happy I scored.

But so was everyone else.

Not everyone in the league knew of my battle with cancer, how hard I fought.

How hard I continue to fight during survivorship for myself.

How hard I fight for others, some I have met, some I never will.

The best thing about this season?

It has brought me closer to feeling like me.

 And its about damn time...

 

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.