X Men

There are those among you who are different.  Sure they may seem just like you, but they are not. You are normal, you don't have what we have.  No its not some exciting superpower, we can't time travel.  Nothing cool like that.
We have something you don't want:

An invisible illness

Sure we may not look sick, and I would say for myself , I'm not all the time.

We fight a battle that you will never see, an internal battle that for some would be too hard to bear.

We don't talk about it, because it has become a part of us, and for those of you who don't have these side effects, well you just wouldn't understand.

How can you explain to a friend you have known for years that when you see them at a restaurant or store you can't remember their name?

Or when you have chronic joint and neck pain, that gets worse when when you get stressed out, how do you keep a smile on your face when you are sitting at your desk and greeting people at your job.

Or the chronic fatigue, being so damn tired all the time then trying to sleep and laying awake all night.

I have a lot of friends with invisible illnesses. 

Lupus

Diabetes

Side effects from chemo

There are many more that I am not aware of, of this I am sure.

It's interesting because the more people I talk to the more I find out about their invisible illness.

You will never hear us complain about what we go through, except with each other.

We smile and laugh to ourselves when we hear others bitching about what a crappy day they had, if their computer stopped working or they had a flat.

If only I had a flat instead of chemobrain.  Flat tires are easy to fix.  Searching for words when they just aren't there isn't an easy fix, its especially difficult when you do a live radio show.


There is nothing like knowing what you want to say but can't say it and there is dead air.

But I am not  complaining, it's a part of me, unfortunately.  Something I have to live with most likely for the rest of my life.  It is simply an explanation.

So the next person you meet may be one of us, or may not be.  You will never know if they are one of us, one of the X Men.

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com.  Available on demand, on Itunes and on the Podcasts app on your iphone

AGAIN

There is a scene in the movie Miracle where Coach Herb Brooks makes the 1980 Olympic team do the now infamous blue line drill after a game that the team was paying more attention to the girls in the stands to the Norwegian team they were playing.


It is a drill that no hockey player wants to do:  Goal line, blue line, Red line, blue line, goal line and any variation therein.

In the movie it is referred to as the AGAIN drill.

Again.

Never a word a cancer survivor wants to hear.

Had a routine blood draw, although I guess after cancer nothing is really routine.

Got a call from the nurse practioner that she wanted to talk about my labs. 

I knew it wasn't too bad since the doc didn't call me, those are the calls I dread.

The blood draw I had was to test my thyroid and D3 levels.  Somewhere along the way during cancer treatment I got hashimoto's thyroiditis, yeah its really called that.

So the Nurse Practitioner and I do the phone tag thing.

Labs show your levels are up.

No wonder I have been tired, I know I stay up late and enjoy a good nap, but seriously, people who have these diseases that give you chronic fatigue should be pillow testers or something.

Hmm I may be on to something maybe I should write relax the back or tempurpedic for a sponsorship.

Back to the story.  Doc thinks I should up my dosage and do another blood draw in 6 weeks.

Hopefully this is the last time I have to think about my thryoid...

AGAIN

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com.  Available on demand, on Itunes and on the Podcasts app on your iphone

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. 

Not really much of a choice is it?

Side effects.

The bain of my existance.

I was getting back to feeling like me after I had upped my anti depressant medication.  The new dosage makes me tired. Like I want to nap tired.  Not that naps are a bad thing mind you, but wanting to nap everyday is.

I first thought I was tired because of how early I get up for my job, but medication tired is different than regular tired or lack of sleep tired. 

Frustrating.

Some days its hard dealing with these side effects.  I put cancer out of my head then it creeps back in in these subtle ways.  Being tired from my medication is another reminder.  Fighting to stay awake reminds me.

Its not like I have a choice.  I can't go off of my meds.  I upped my dosage to put me back to normal.  Because I didn't want to spiral downward again. That is a place I do not want to go to. A place I cannot go to.

So I struggle yet again, with an inner battle. Hoping that it will slowly dissipate, and I will be less tired.

Hoping this will be the last side effect I will have to deal with for a while.

Oprah Winfrey said "Where there is no struggle, there is no strength."

Yeah, but I am sick of being so damn strong all the 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.

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.

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.

Getting back on track

As a cancer survivor I am used to the waiting game.  Waiting for doc appointments, waiting for results from scans.  Waiting, waiting, waiting.  I wonder how much of my cancer experience I have spent waiting.  Probably over half of it.

I am used to waiting for other people, but not for myself.

I am used to going all out all the time.  When I had two jobs I would start my day at 5am as a server finish up  around noon or 2pm, get to the radio station, do some voice tracking, go to the gym, then maybe head back to the radio station to work on a Tigers or a Red Wings game. A 5am-10pm day.  I would do this about 2 or 3 times a week.

I am 3 years into my survivorship, and I am still waiting to be able to get back to that level of energy.  Don't get me wrong, I do have energy.  I still get up early, my work day ends around noon -2pm.  I do pilates twice a week, its winter so I play hockey, but I am still not back to what I was before.  I have to nap during the day to be able to do what I need to do.


Its hard waiting for me.  Its harder not knowing if I will ever get back to where I was before.


I am close.


But not quite there.


This is one of the things they don't tell you about when you have cancer.


This is just one of the many charming aspects of survivorship that I have to deal with on a daily basis.  Just one of the many thoughts that go through my head wondering when I will be back to me, or as close to it as I possibly can be with everything that I have been through.

There are some friends of mine that I haven't seen since I moved from California.  Since I was diagnosed.  Since I had cancer.

Sometimes I wonder how much I have changed and if they will even recognize me.  The Me that they knew.

Its a scary thought to think that they wont.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said "All things come round to him who will but wait."

I hope he was right. 


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.

Relationship with cancer

 There has been a lot of talk about how Catherine Zeta Jones has reacted to Michael Douglas' cancer and how she is not planning on going with him to his chemo and radiation treatments.  She has come under fire from all sides about how heartless she is, how can she not be with him during this difficult time.  She said that she didn't think she could see him like that, that maybe she should be stronger emotionally but she just isn't.

When I was diagnosed I had several friends disappear.  And I was pissed.  Pissed for a long time.  How could my friends just go away?  Don't they see that I need them?  Yeah I felt that way for a good 2 years.  But then I realized something.  I didn't know what their relationship with cancer is.  Maybe they had someone close to them die, maybe they watch tv and see the fictionalized version of what happens, maybe they are just scared and don't want to see their friend go through treatment.  It took me a long time to get over my anger at them.


So who are we to judge her and how she feels?  How she relates to cancer?  Because we know how we react? As survivors? As caregivers, friends, family, co-workers? 

Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta Jones live in Hollywood.  Its a fishbowl.  They can't go anywhere without the paparazzi snapping photos and posting online and in the tabloids.  I know.  I lived and worked there for 10 years behind the scenes on television and award shows. Its a different world out there.  Imagine if every move you made was documented in print and on tv for everyone to talk about, to gossip about.  How would you feel?

Now add on a cancer diagnosis to that.  Paparazzi are probably swarming whatever hospital Michael Douglas is at hoping to snap a photo of him at his most vulnerable.  All for a quick buck.

Now imagine that was you.  During treatment.  At the time when you feel the lowest, the shittiest, the worst you will probably ever feel.  Walking to your car.  Someone takes a picture for all the world to see.

So yeah,  I am not upset with Catherine Zeta Jones.  As my friend Donald Wilhelm would say, hey  "it is what it is." 

It's their journey.  Not mine

I have my own journey.

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon on wmktthetalkstation.com

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

Hit me baby one more time....

So my docs office called me on Saturday morning.  Yes you read that right Saturday morning. At 8:30 to give me the results of a bone scan.  Now anyone who knows me knows that if you call me that early and I answer chances are I wont have a clue of what we talked about.  I am more of a night owl, or insomniac, whichever you want to call it.  So she mentioned something about osteopenia and the scan I had a while ago.

So I fall back to sleep and when I wake up I am thinking osteopenia?  What the hell is that?  Sounds like some country in Europe, between Luxemborg and Lithuania, I was never really good at geography so I guess it could have been.

Of course I look up osteopenia. I am a internet junkie, of course I am going to look it up.  It is defined on Web MD as: Osteopenia refers to bone mineral density BMD  that is lower than normal peak BMD but not low enough to be classified as osteoporosis.

So let me get this straight. I finished up the shitty part of my treatment in mid 2008.  I get a bone scan and find out that I have another side effect.

FUCK.

While I know that this was a possibility, once again going back to the "menu" of side effects that the docs give you while you are going through treatment I didn't expect it. I expected to be finished.  Done with side effects.  I still have lingering neuropathy that shows up every once and a while like an unwanted house guest and sometimes stays like one too.

Getting another side effect is like getting punched in the face without expecting it. Except, with that the black eye you may get will go away. Osteopenia  however stays with you.  Yes I will take more pills (oh goody just what I wanted to do spend more fucking money on meds and take more fucking pills) and do weight bearing exercises (walking, which I find extremely boring and tedious, and no there will be no running, not with these knees)  to help offset the osteopenia.

Sometimes I wonder why my body hates me so much. I have been pretty good to it, (well we wont talk about those college days, that is just to be expected, and what happens in the dorms stays in the dorms)  It attacks me with cancer (overproduction of cells)  My immune system attacks me (hypothyroidism) I have vitamin d deficiency, I have no clue how I got that besides I am not outside enough?    My mind attacks me with depression.

It is very frustrating to think you are out of the woods only to look up and see more trees.

Like I always say:

Cancer, its the gift that keeps on giving. 

Mel is the co~host/producer of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen live 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 Race

I went to my first NASCAR race recently, one of the perks of where I work.  I got pit passes, got up close to the drivers pit crew, saw all the prep they do during the race and when the car comes into pit row (ok so if I get the names of things wrong sorry, I play hockey, watching NASCAR to me reminds me of when I lived by the 101 freeway in the San Fernando Valley)

I am always thinking of my next blog, or podcast, what inspiring survivor I can get on the podcast, what I should write next.  I was uploading my race photos to facebook and I thought this kind of reminds me of treatment.

The race was my cancer experience.  While I was in the race, time stands still, moves slow.  For others it is just another day, minutes are regular minutes hours are hours days are days. 

The noise of the race was deafening.  That reminds me of when the doc first tells you "It's cancer"  Suddenly words run together, people are talking but it doesn't make sense.  You can hear your own heartbeat in the sound of the race.

The docs, nurses medical staff are your pit crew. All of the pit crew around the car reminded me of surgery, you are almost out of it, there are people around that you don't know and they are all checking on you.

"Checking under the hood"  as I like to call it when they do a breast exam.  The adding of the oil, like a blood draw, well you get the analogies.  Although I do think a blood draw would be less upsetting to me if the needles made that whirr sound like the pneumatic drill does in the race.

Your caregiver is your pit boss.  Making sure everything goes smoothly.  Not that that is entirely possible.  No one can foresee nausea, insomnia or any of the other lovely side effects that go along with cancer, but if it wasn't for your pit boss, your race would be more difficult

Everyones race experience is different.  Some go through treatment with little side effects, no major crashes to speak of.  Others have their cars in pit row the whole time of the race.  I have to say I was somewhere in between. 

Once the treatment is over, some people think the race is over, but there could be more races, meaning, complications, more surgeries, recurrance, depression, entirely new cancers.  Different races, different tracks.

We are all just looking to cross the finish line.  Doesn't matter if we get the checkered flag.  Just matters that that we finish the race, that we beat cancer.

I am looking forward to the time when no one will have to race.

Mel is the co-host/producer of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen live Monday~Friday 10am-Noon on wmktthetalkstation.com.  Also available as a podcast.

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com

Dear Cancer...

I started thinking about this on the eve of an oncology appointment.  If cancer was here, in this room, what I would say to it.

Dear  Cancer,

I go between being really pissed at you and being grateful.  Pissed?  You are wondering why I am pissed at you?  You stole almost two years from me,  where instead of having surgeries, chemo, radiation, nausea, constipation, insomnia, anger, having my pee turn red, having mouth sores, being bald, not being able to work as much as I used to when I should have been playing hockey, riding my bike, being outside enjoying the weather, not being so fucking tired I wanted to sleep, then not being able to sleep because of insomnia, making dinner then not being able to eat because I felt like shit.

You make it hard for me to think, because of chemobrain.  I used to know the answers to things, but some days I just struggle to put sentences together. 

I have scars, both emotional and physical because of you. You made it hard for me to look at myself for the longest time, that has passed, but I am still angry about it.

You are the reason my friend Nick Corea is no longer here.  You took him from us too soon.  I still remember that day when I found out he was gone.  It was like it was yesterday.  You robbed the world of a great man.  For that you will never be forgiven.


You wonder why I am grateful?  I am not grateful for you, lets make that clear.  I am grateful that I found you early, early enough to get treatment to stop you.  I am grateful that I found strength that I never knew I had, Grateful that I have an awesome support system of friends, family and co-workers.  The medical staff that I had was the best anyone could ask for.

Grateful I found a voice not only for myself, but because of you, I can speak for those who can't, who are too afraid, too sick, too weak or just too afraid.

Grateful for the network of people that I have found who hate you as much as I do.  Who want to eradicate you as much as I do.

Grateful I have found a purpose.  Ha, you think you did all this for me?  I realized strength and determination was in me all along, it just took something as vile as you to bring it to the surface.

Now you can leave.  You can leave all my friends alone.  You can leave people I never met alone.  You can go away.  Never come back.


If you do the last five things I ask I will be eternally grateful.

Mel is the producer/co~host of The Vic McCarty Show.  Listen Live Monday~Friday 10am-noon eastern standard time on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my podcast The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com available on demand now, and also available on itunes

THE SCAR

I never really had a scar until I had my lumpectomy. Before that I only had one tiny scar on my knee.  Got that from our dog Tiger, a german shepard mix, who decided, when I was in junior high or high school, to chase something and he dragged me down the the ground.  Barely noticeable to me.

Now including I have 3 scars, one on my knee, one from my lumpectomy and a scar from the infusion port.

It took me a while to get used to seeing the big lumpectomy scar.  I am glad my breast was able to be saved, and I can never wear a shirt and show off my cleavage (well I guess I could but that scar would turn heads more than my cleavage ever would.)

When I first got home from surgery I remember looking at my scar, hating it, glad that the cancer was gone, but hating the fact that I had a constant reminder of surgery, of cancer, of the fact that life was going to be different from here on out.  It took me a long time to get used to that scar. 

I had everything happen to me pretty quickly, diagnosis to surgery to chemo was less than two months, Sept 18th-diagnosis, Oct 9-Surgery, November 12 chemo.  Somewhere between lumpectomy surgery and chemo I had surgery for to put the port in.  I was glad that I had that put in because chemo chews up your veins, but I hated seeing that fucking thing every day.  It looked like a little bottlecap underneath my skin. I couldn't anything that I really loved to do (hockey, skiing etc) because you could get seriously injured if you hit that thing.  Even when I was exercising I would move a certain way and that would hurt. I totally recommend getting a port, but I was so fucking grateful when it was removed.

My surgeon wanted to know if I wanted to keep it. Some people do as a reminder. No way. Thanks for the memories doc, but throw that god damn thing away. I have enough memories of all the shit I went through.

My lumpectomy scar is perfect for that.

Some of where the cancer was cut out is numb and will never get feeling back.  Some of the feeling has come back.  That is normal, my surgeon says.  Like I said, glad I got to keep my breast.  I remember thinking waayy back when I first met my surgeon he asked if I wanted a full mastectomy on my right breast.

Holy shit,I thought,  it was difficult enough to think about, that I have cancer, that I have to have surgery, wondering how the fuck am I going to pay for all this, now you are asking me if I want you to lop off a part of my body.  Hell no.  (Although I am pretty sure at the time I didn't say that but in the back of my mind that is what I was thinking)

I remember thinking after seeing that scar, that Doug would never think that I would ever be attractive again.  Obviously that is and never was the case, but in my mind, during chemo, that god damn napalm they give you, caused my hair loss and my weight loss (when I thought I looked like a space alien) the times when I couldn't eat, when I was so fucking fatigued from cancer and then I couldn't sleep, when I forgot about those things for a moment, there would always be that scar.

Having that scar took a long time for me to get used to. 

I know some people equate their scars to a badge of honor.

I don't. 

The scar is now just a part of me.


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.

Can't Find Your Words? Say Chemo Brain.

Another guest blogger

By Idelle Davidson

You know it's just on the tip of your tongue.  It's a word that has a "ka" sound in the beginning and a "tah" sound somewhere at the end.  And you can almost see it, but then darn, it's gone.  Perhaps later, when you're rushing to slap dinner on the table, that stupid word, so maddeningly elusive just hours before will pop right into your head, as if it were all just some silly misunderstanding between you and your brain.

I'm guessing that if you've had chemo and have experienced the fog that often follows, then you know what I'm talking about, right?  It's not that you can't comprehend language, it's that you can't retrieve it.  It's like the arcade game where you maneuver levers to grab a prize.  You just can't get the prongs low enough or tight enough around that plastic key chain before it slips away.

In a 2006 study of the side effects experienced by 26 women undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer, language (including fluency, verbal repetition, reading, and writing to dictation) was the most severely affected cognitive function, followed by memory. (Source: F. Downie, Psycho-Oncology 15 -2006: 921-930).  That's not entirely surprising considering that chemotherapy not only may affect language but the speed in which we process information.

One woman I interviewed for "Your Brain After Chemo" had this to say: "It is painful when people look at me with confusion while I am trying to talk.  I know that I'm not making sense, and I don't know how else to talk.  When it happens I die a million deaths and feel very dumb."    

Have you experienced word retrieval problems during or following chemotherapy?  Have you found ways to compensate?  If so, please share what has worked for you.

Bio: Idelle Davidson is an award-winning journalist, a cancer survivor, and co-author (with Dr. Dan Silverman at UCLA) of YOUR BRAIN AFTER CHEMO: A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO LIFTING THE FOG AND GETTING BACK YOUR FOCUS (available in bookstores and on Amazon.com). http://www.amazon.com/Your-Brain-after-Chemo-Practical/dp/0738212598].

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 available on demand now on itunes and empoweradio.com

Nothing to fear?

I have been thinking about this post for a while.  Something that all survivors think about, but don't want to talk about. Fear of recurrence.  I don't know ANY friends of mine that are survivors who don't think about this at least at least once. Mostly during times close to doctors appointments.  Yeah that's right I have an oncology appointment in about a week.  Although I don't expect anything bad, there is always that thought, what if?  What if it comes back?  What if the meds I took to get rid of my breast cancer caused some other cancer, yes, that's right, side effects of some of the chemo drugs are other cancers.  I can almost picture one of those happy commercials for Adrymicin/Cytoxan, (the chemo drug that made my pee turn red and made my hair fall out) with the family out for a picnic talking about A/C and happily discussing the potential liver disease and bladder cancer you could get as one of the possible side effects.

Whenever my docs explained the side effects and listed them off, I remember I said no thanks I don't want any of those, as if I had a choice of side effects, no thanks to the seizures, but I will take the chills, fever and hallucinations.

 Fear of recurrence.  It is real.  It is a side effect that I believe every cancer survivor gets, funny how its not on any list that I have seen.  It doesn't happen often, mostly near doctors appointments, especially if I get a scan or a blood test, or near the anniversary of when I was diagnosed, when I had my surgery or some similar cancer related event.    Even unrelated tests can make you nervous.  I remember when my docs office called with the results of my pap test I held my breath a little until the nurse said normal.

As another oncology appointment approaches the thought is in the back of my mind. The odds are in my favor for being cancer free, but there is always that what if?

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty show. Listen live Monday-Friday eastern standard time on wmktthetalkstation.com.

Check out my show The Cancer Warrior on Empoweradio.com

This is in response to a New York Times article

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/03/health/03second.html?_r=3&scp=2&sq=mammograms&st=cse

(you may have to cut and paste this link to read)

Above is the link to the New York Times Article.  Above that is a mammography machine.  I have had about eight mammograms since I have been diagnosed with breast cancer at the ripe old age of 37, 3 years before  most women are recommended to get a mammogram at 40.  Now I am not a doctor, I have no medical background except the time I spent (over a year) going to the hospital for chemo treatments, radiation, doctor visits, blood tests, echocardiograms etc all relating to my cancer treatment.  This is my opinion, not fact.  I did not consult anyone in the cancer or medical field about this blog. The NY Times article made me angry.  Since I have had cancer I have written and spoken about the necessity of breast self exams and mammograms.  Now I don't know the background of the writer of the article, don't know if she has ever had a loved one or friend diagnosed with cancer of any kind, so I don't know if she knows the mental and physical toll it takes on a person going through treatment. I can't speak for her.  I can only speak for me.  In my opinion people 30 and above should get mammograms, and even earlier if there is a history in your family of it.  Anyone can get breast cancer.

When I read the paragraph from the article "Mammograms are no fun, to put it mildly. Like many women, I have been putting up with them in hopes that, if I get cancer, they might find it early enough to save my life and maybe help me avoid extensive surgery and chemotherapy Have I been kidding myself?"

Uh ok, putting up with them?  Really?  When I had my first mammogram the tech apologized about the pain it would cause when the machine would squish my breasts.  I laughed and told her well since she didn't create the machine its not her fault.

"Mammograms are no fun: " That is what the writer of the article says. I would take a few minutes, if that, of being uncomfortable, than the all the lovely baggage that comes along with a cancer diagnosis.

Let me tell you what, Denise Grady of the New York Times, cancer isn't fun either.

Talk to your doctor.  Do your breast self exams. In my opinion, get a mammogram.

Nothing is infallible, mammograms may not detect your cancer, but then again it might.

Mel is the producer/co-host of The Vic McCarty Show. Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern on wmktthetalkstation.com

Check out my new show The Cancer Warrior available on demand now on Empoweradio.com 

http://tinyurl.com/yfxvk8p  

Beautiful but deadly

The photo above is beautiful isn't it? Looks like it could be somewhere under the sea, but it is not. It is an enlarged photo of breast cancer cells. It was 2 years ago on September 18th at 1:07pm that I was told "It's cancer." It seems like so long ago, and sometimes it seems like only yesterday. On the evening before my 2 year "cancerversary" I pause to reflect.

There are some of times that I wonder why me? Why did I get this disease? Why did I have to go through all the chemo, radiation,surgery, hair loss, depression, sadness, anger, bullshit of this, having large amounts of medical bills to pay, which I will probably be paying off way until I am in my 60s, explaining to people what happened, having over 10 doctor appointments in a month, waiting sometimes at least a half hour for those doctors (which kind of drives me crazy but that could be a whole other blog) chemo brain, having my hair turn grey,having my skin feel scaly, having no appetite,insomnia, being so freaking tired I could sleep where I stand (I am sure they wouldn't appreciate that at the local grocery store or walmart) not being able to play hockey for 2 years.

Now most of you who know me and have read this blog know that I have kept a pretty positive attitude through all this, but some days it was impossible to do that.

2 years, 24 months, 730 Days. That is a long ass time. I have been through a lot in that time. More than some survivors I know, also less than some survivors I know. Some people have called me brave and courageous, I disagree with that. I just did what I had to do. I have read many other survivors opinions on this, some get angry when people call them brave or courageous, that what other choice did they have? I had one friend who didn't make that choice, who decided to wait until it was way too late, I blogged about him before, what would those people say about him, that he wasn't brave or courageous, that because he was uninsured he waited and now he is gone. I am not going into a discussion of the health care debate. My opinion is this go to the doctor, get a physical, if you need further treatment for cancer or some other disease, get it, they can't turn you down, its better to be alive and broke than dead.

One friend of mine told me I am a lot more pleasant to be around since my diagnosis, I asked him what he meant and he said I don't get as upset as I used to. That is the truth for sure, but I thank the medication I am on for that mostly, but I guess cancer has something to do with that as well, I fly off the handle less.

Cancer has given me a voice, strength I never knew I had, and ability to advocate and help people. It has made me a different person, sometimes better, sometimes not.

Has it made me a better person? I don't know.

I do know this, I am grateful to be here.

Mel is the producer of the Vic McCarty show. Listen live Monday-Friday 10am-noon eastern standard time on www.wmktthetalkstation.com

Believe it or not its just me

ORIGINALLY POSTED ON STUPID CANCER.COM

Why can’t cancer come with a manual? Maybe it does and someone just lost it, like that guy in the tv show from the eighties “The Greatest American Hero.” If you don’t remember the show it is about a guy who gets a superman type suit from a ufo (yes you read that right) and lost the manual to the suit, left it in the desert.
Things sure would be easier if I had a manual. I recall one person, who I haven’t seen in a while, commented on how good I looked, if I working out, nope, cancer is the best diet ever I exclaimed! I wonder if that would be in the book. The manual would have chapters on nausea, fatigue, although most of us would be too sleepy to read it, chemo brain, that one I would probably have to read over and over again, forgetting that I had already read it. Chapters on baldness, what to eat, what not to eat, and just dealing with life after cancer, that is the hardest part for me, that everyone expects you to be exactly the same, and on the outside you may look the same but you feel completely different. Cancer Sucks.
So if you are out somewhere and you find the manual, make me a copy, ok?

Mel is the producer of the Vic McCarty Show. Listen Live Monday thru Friday 10am-noon eastern on www.wmktthetalkstation.com

Just another constant reminder

I was at a friends cancer charity event over the weekend. It was a classic wooden boat show honoring my friend's mom. I got there early in the morning, well early for me on a weekend, and set up banners for the radio station that I work for and was going to do call ins to the radio station to let our listeners know about this cool event. The weather was beautiful and the boat show was a success, they raised a decent amount of money for a first annual event. My friend was happy that I was able to help out and invited me to the after party at 7pm, which was about 3 and a half hours from then. While I really wanted to go, I couldn't. While I had finished up my treatments on December 29th 2007, the side effects of cancer and chemo are still there.

We were wrapping up when the fatigue hit me. I don't usually get tired easily anymore but this sneaks up on me, kind of like that annoying uncle at your family bbq who comes up behind you and hugs you and knocks the wind right out of you. That is one of my side effects if I push myself, and sometimes I don't even think I am pushing myself until that happens, like uh uh, nope sorry, you are having too much fun, and you are feeling too much like yourself, so WHAM, there you go. The only way to counteract that is to lay down or nap. So no after party for me.

After leaving I went home to lay down. When the fatigue happens and I lay down, it is like my body is saying ahhh ok now lets try to relax, but relax to me and relax to my body are apparently two different things. I picture relaxing as just laying in bed and listening to some good relaxing music, like George Winston or Vivaldi, my body decides to let me know just how much I pushed it today, but making it feel like almost every nerve ending is awake and alive. Not easy to relax at that point, but eventually this ceases and I am able to nap.

The last little constant reminder is neuropathy. The Mayo clinic.com defines it as "Peripheral neuropathy, in its most common form, causes pain and numbness in your hands and feet. The pain typically is described as tingling or burning, while the loss of sensation often is compared to the feeling of wearing a thin stocking or glove." (Ironically I got this little side effect AFTER I was done with chemo, yeah, ha ha good one...)

Yeah that is what I have, I used to have it only on my right side in my hand and my leg. I don't have it in my hand anymore, but I still have it in my foot, it does feel like a tingling sock. It used to run up my leg and hurt, but now it just tingles and my foot occasionally goes numb, it doesn't hurt and it usually doesn't stop me from doing things, although I decided to opt out of a 5k that my friend and I were going to do in a couple of months, that and the fact I had no time to train were my deciding factors.

Tonight I will go to bed and lay there and as I drift off to sleep my right foot will tingle and be my little constant reminder of what I have been through.

I know I am lucky, if I miss a party or two because of this then that is ok, yes it is frustrating, but I can wake up in the morning and know every day I am getting back to "normal" or at least the new normal that all of us cancer survivors understand.

I am Ripley

This blog was originally posted on stupidcancer.com

I am a fan of movies, tv, sports and popular culture. My head is filled with useless information that would only be good if we were playing trivial pursuit (Do people still play that anymore?). I suppose you are wondering what the reference in my title means. I have been thinking about how you are never cured from cancer because, well, there is no cure. So I am like Ripley, the main character in the movie Alien. I have fought the beast and won, but is it over? Is cancer really gone from my body? Is it eradicated like the Alien at the end of the movie, blown out into deep space? Are there other Aliens out there somewhere… lurking ready to strike when least expected?

Cancer is like the Alien from the movie. It is big and scary and you don’t really know how you are going to deal with a big ugly monster like that until you stare it in the face. Do you run and hide and hope that it wont get you? Or do you stand and fight and kick its ass?.

I chose the latter.

I am Ripley.

What a difference a year makes...

This past weekend I was in the fourth of July parade. I was part of the Relay for Life float. It is the second time I was a part of the parade. Last year I was still going through treatment and I was so tired I couldn't even walk the parade route. I rode on the float with another survivor, an 8 year old girl. Its not that I was embarrased or anything that I was riding on the float. I was pissed off that cancer wouldn't allow me to walk.

Actually it wasn't cancer, it was hypothyroidism, which was probably a side effect of radiation, so it was because of cancer, indirectly, not directly. I was so tired that I tried to take a nap before the fireworks that night. It was hard to nap in the car. Parking sucks during the holidays we didn't want to lose our parking spot so we relaxed in the car until it was time for the show.

But back to this year. I started the day off at 10am in at the Dog look a like contest in Harbor Springs. Vic was the emcee of the event. After that I walked around with a friend at the art fair there. I stayed in Harbor Springs for about 4 hours until the parade started then I jetted out of there to go home to relax before the Petoskey parade.

I relaxed and watched some bad movie on cable then went to the location where the float was lined up for the parade. The day was beautiful and I was reminded of how I felt last year, how tired I was, and how bound and determined I was to walk in the parade, not ride in the float.

So yes I walked proudly in the parade. I actually walked a lot that day. Once the parade was over Doug and I walked around town until it was time for the fireworks, stopping of course to eat
and enjoy some ice cream on a nice hot summer evening.

The fireworks were awesome and they were the perfect ending to the weekend, which was also Doug's birthday weekend.

What a difference a year makes.