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.

What its like to survive

Another guest blogger. Enjoy.

What’s it like to survive? Have you or someone you really care about ever survived something that could have changed things forever?

Being a survivor sets you apart from other people in that you have a totally different view on things after “surviving”. No, I am not suggesting that we survivors are better than other people or anything like that; after all it’s friends and family who helped us survive, bring us through the hard times, and stand behind us as we continue on our journey. In a way, they survived too and are a part of the survival team. Think about it, a mom having to watch her child go through treatments for cancer? When that’s all over, you better believe she feels like a survivor also!

Survivors of car wrecks, wars and other diseases all know that they have, for some reason, been given a second chance; and I’d like to think that second chance, was not by “chance” exactly. Now my next comment is not to just show my fascination with conspiracy theories and secret clubs like the “Skull and Bones”, but I would like to think of survivors as being in their own little club too. (Unfortunately, we don’t rule the world though!)

As a survivor, first and foremost, we realize that we are temporary. No matter how great things are today and at this moment, we know that it can all change in an instant. We carry this attitude with us at all times. Whether we are at the Christmas party hanging out with friends and cutting up (break dancing in some cases), or at home relaxing with our families, our survival and what “could” and “could have” happened is always tucked away within us. We know that the unthinkable does not just happen to “other people.”

Now, this all shouldn’t read as the “poor little survivors”, because we are not “poor little survivors”; we are “blessed little survivors.” We now have a new appreciation for the smallest things, for all kinds of people that enter our life; we now take the time. That’s what it’s like to survive!

Ryan Hamner is a 4-time survivor of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and a singer-songwriter who travels performing and speaking to those affected by cancer. Please check out his new song, “Survivors Survive” online at http://www.hearthehearttour.com and learn about his community for cancer survivors at http://www.2surviveonline.com .

Humor Rocks and Laughter heals

Having cancer isn't funny.  Everyone knows that.  It's a serious disease that takes so much from so many.

I have been blessed with a wicked sense of humor.  I get that from my Dad.  I remember when I was meeting with the surgeon to discuss my course of treatment I never thought I was going to die.  I thought wait, one year of treatment would mean no hockey!  Not usually something you think about when faced with a disease like cancer.

Humor and sports.  That's what got me through my treatment and still does through survivorship.  I remember someone who hadn't seen me for a while saw me while I was going through treatment and commented on how great I looked.  Since I was working out so hard for hockey season the docs said I didn't lose as much weight and went through treatment better than most.  I said "Cancer is the best diet I ever had!"  Some of those around me were shocked by what I said.  But I know that my sense of humor was going to get me through this.

That is why I love Save the Ta-tas and their message.  It makes me laugh, it brings awareness, and they donate proceeds to various charitable organizations.  Did you know that they have donated $690,0000 to charity to date?  This means that your purchase can help others.  Find out more on the Save the ta-tas site.

Because of the generosity of  Julia Fikse of Save the ta-tas I was able to pick out a shirt and one of my readers will win it. (just post a comment why you like the ta-tas brand) I am hoping that the sense of humor will help you through your survivorship as it did mine. 

Imagine a world without cancer.

I can.

Can you?

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

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.

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.

Drowning in your own thoughts

May is mental health awareness month.  I find it ironic that I asked my doctor to up my anti depressant dosage during this month.  Things have been in a downward spiral for about a month.  I can't put my finger on what the trigger was for it.  Just stress I guess.

I should be happy!  I survived cancer.

Kicked its ass actually, and continue to kick it with my advocacy.

Then why am I so damned depressed?

Freedictionary defines depression as: Psychology A psychiatric disorder characterized by an inability to concentrate, insomnia, loss of appetite, anhedonia, feelings of extreme sadness, guilt, helplessness and hopelessness, and thoughts of death. Also called clinical depression

Great.  I survived cancer now I have a psychiatric disorder.

It's not really that uncommon for cancer survivors to be depressed.  I don't have exact numbers or graphs or charts but I know I am not the only one.

Although sometimes it feels that way.

I know I have been avoiding dealing with this for some time.  I'm supposed to be strong right?  I'm the one people lean on.  A friend of mine told me that he doesn't know how I can deal with everything I deal with, that I must have armadillo skin.

The signs were all there.  Avoidance, sadness, loss of interest etc.  I chose to ignore them, or maybe I thought it was different this time.

I was wrong.

Its hard to explain to someone who doesn't deal with this what its like.  It sucks because its not something you can control.

I tried to explain to a friend of mine about this.  I said I was dealing with this depression, and that it wasn't going to be easy dealing with me, that I may get upset or angry for no reason.  She said she understood.
But I could tell she really didn't.

Trying to explain to someone what this feels like is like shooting rubberbands at the stars.  You can try but it wont reach.  Unless you have know what this feels like its hard to explain.

Your head tells you one thing that your heart knows isn't true:
No one else feels like this, no one can help me, I feel lost.

Obviously none of those are true, but when you are within that moment, drowning in a sea of your own thoughts that is what it feels like.

Depression can handcuff you too.  Makes it hard to do your job and live your life.  Sometimes its a struggle just to make it through the day without wanting to just curl up in a ball and go to sleep, or feel like you are on pins and needles the whole day.

The passing of The Carcinista was a definitely a huge blow.  I am not even sure how I got through that week at work.

So if you saw me the first week of May I wasn't myself.
Realizing that was hard.

Asking for help was harder.

I know I am taking steps in the right direction to get back on track, back to myself.
It could be a slow process, or a quick one.

Either way I am glad I know I am getting better.


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.

Uncomfortably Numb

I had read a blog post by my friend Sarah, also known as  The Carcinista, that she had decided to forgo treatment and choose quality of life over quantity.  She has been battling stage 3c ovarian cancer on and off since 2006.  The cancer metastasized to her lungs.  She decided that she didn't want to do more taxol, which makes you lose your hair.  She wants to leave this world with her hair.  Can't say I blame her on that one.  I hated being bald.

So I thought it would be interesting to have her on my podcast.  Not really knowing if she would want to share her story with me.  Its one thing to write about it in the comfort of your own home, its another talking about it.  Sounds kind of weird I know, but since I have been on both sides of the microphone I understand how weird it is to talk about yourself.  Luckily Sarah said yes.

As I listened to her story it reminded me how she was a part of the Inner Tough Girls 12 weeks of transformation, as was I.   I was going through a rough time emotionally during those 12 weeks and I have to say I wasn't the easiest person to deal with  (sorry Angella)  but was grateful for meeting the women in the group. 

Being a cancer survivor/advocate you get caught up in forums, discussions, advocacy, your own survivorship etc.  As some one who has a good prognosis for survival I try not to think about my own mortality.  I did that during treatment.  As survivors we always have that word recurrance on our minds.  In my case it has been shut in the back of my mind.  Not something I think about.

So was surprised about The Carcinista's post.  I know she has been battling ovarian cancer on and off for a while but whenever I read about friends who make the decision to stop treatment it is always shocking to see. 

You always think: WHAT?  Keep fighting!! Don't give up!!

But its not about that is it? 

When you have done all you can, exhausted every option, every treatment, every clinical trial.  EVERYTHING.

When you know that you have fought all you could and now its about quantity vs quality of life. 

 Would you rather spend what you know to be your last remaining days on chemo being bald, feeling like shit, possibly not wanting to be around your family because you have that chemo haze surrounding you?


Or would you want to spend every last waking moment with them, knowing that every day is one day closer to not being with them anymore.

Its a hard decision to make for anyone.  Especially someone with two young children.

As I listened to Sarah tell her story I heard the labored breathing.  I knew it would get harder for her to speak to her husband, to her kids. 

It was hard to listen to, not because her story wasn't interesting, but because as survivors when something like this happens to a friend you can picture it happening to you.  It is one of those surreal circumstances that happens when you are a survivor. 

After I left the studio I called Angella and told her about Sarah's podcast.  Angella had not been online in a while she did not read Sarah's post. 

So I had the dubious honor of telling her about Sarah's choice, while hard, sadly I know she had made the right decision.

After listening to the podcast and informing Angella about Sarah's decision I went home.  Not even knowing what I was feeling. 

How can I be happy for someone who is going to die? 

And why the fuck did I have to be the bearer of bad news?

Now I know in the end, as my good friend Don Wilhelm would have said. "It is what it is"

True

But it still sucks.

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.

OMG Summit 2011 Cancertastic wrap up

Last weekend I was I was able to go to a cancer summit for young adult survivors. To be a young adult survivor you would have been diagnosed when you were age 15-40.  The event was put on by my good friend Matt Zachary, founder of the I'm Too Young For This Foundation.  I really didn't know what to expect.  I haven't been to any events that focuses on young adult survivors and the specific issues that we deal with.

I have to say this:

It was a life changing experience.

Now I have been to many cancer events before, I have been invited to speak and participate at many. 

But nothing had an impact on me like this.

Being in a room of over 350 young adult survivors was amazing.  It didn't matter what type of cancer they had, how old they were.  We all feel the same. 

It was nice for one weekend to not have to try to dance around the cancer subject or try to explain to someone why I feel the way I feel.

I also met many of my online friends in real life.  Many of the people who I have had on my podcast.  It was awesome to meet in person Jonny Imerman, Tamika Felder, Patti Murillo-Casa and many friends who I had only spoken to via computer or text or phone.

Knowing all of these people put me totally at ease, and being in a room of 350 plus strangers could be daunting for anyone, but it wasn't.  I think even if I had only met Matt I still would have been comfortable this element.

One of the great things was that almost all of the people speaking at the summit have the same mindset as I do:

You need to empower yourself as a patient.

You need to be your own advocate.

No matter how you feel, you are not alone.

I knew all of that was true.  I just didn't realize how many others felt the same way.

If you are a young adult survivor this is the event to go to.

Prepare yourself now Vegas, because OMG summit 2012 will descend upon you.

Vegas will never be the same.

And for that I am grateful.


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.

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.

Relaxed....

 

 

 

Its been a while since I have written.  Not really sure why that is.  I have written a couple of guest blog posts for some friends of mine, maybe that is why, I am not one of those writers who can just write at the drop of a hat, I have to be inspired. Certain things have happened these past two weeks to inspire me. 

I went to a chiropractor on the advice or my pilates instructors (yes I have two of them, and their styles are both very different and both very good)  I have had pain in my shoulder for quite some time, and it would always get worse at night, nothing like trying to get to sleep in pain.  

Now I have been skeptical of chiropractors because of what my fiance Doug had gone through in California.  Long story short Doug was scheduled for surgery for his shoulder and the chiropractor, who had no permission to practice in the hospital where Doug was, wanted to give him an adjustment the day of his surgery!!  Needless to say the chiropractor didn't, and he was kicked out of the hospital room. 

So yes I was skeptical, but my friends said he would help.  So I went.  I had the xrays taken.  There I saw my crooked spine and my straight neck, 

I have scoliosis, that I knew, and apparently the curvature in your neck is supposed to be at 40%.

Mine is at 10%.  

No wonder my back and neck hurt, oh and I had a rib out of place.  Don't ask me how the hell that happened, but it was out of place.  Another reason for the pain.  The chiropractor told me that he was different than the last chiro I saw (he was in the same town, didn't really remember much of what he did, chemobrain, and didn't have problems with him, just got down to being a financial issue to go to him)

So the chiro did the adjustments.  I wasn't expecting to hear the snap crackle pop of my spine and neck. 

It was amazing.

For the first time, in I can't remember when, I had no pain.  I had an amazing massage the week before, I was actually able to relax during the massage. 

I told Lynn, my friend, the massage therapist, "Congratulations, you have done something that no one else has done in three years." 

I was able to relax. 

The chiropractor said I would probably sleep better than I have in a while.  I went home and took a nap.  My hours changed at work so I have to be at work at 5:30am, so whenever I can grab a nap I will. 

The only word I can describe how I felt was euphoric.  I felt so good it was almost hard to fall asleep. 

Sleep is that golden chain that ties health and our bodies together. ~ Thomas Dekker

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.

Happy New Year

Recorded this video on New Years Eve. Why I do what I do.

Parts Whole

 

I started playing organized hockey again.  I played a couple of times last year, pick up, but not organized, not like I was when I played in California in Burbank and Pasadena.    There they would have an actual draft, where they would make you do drills and try to set up the teams evenly so there wasn't one team that was loaded with great players and the rest with average players like me. 

Hockey means a lot to me.  Its hard to explain why.  Some things are just your passion, they get into your blood.  I started playing in my mid 30s, wanted to exercise and didn't think I would go to the gym that much, so I used my tax refund to buy hockey gear at a store in Woodland Hills, CA.  Out of all places to get into hockey, go figure I get into it in California.  Never been one to follow the norm.

2007 was a hard year for me hockey wise.  Not only did I find out my diagnosis on the last day of Red Wings Training camp but I had to tell my team that I had cancer and I couldn't play that year.  That was hard.  We had a beginning of the season party and I didn't tell anyone until then.  Everyone was shocked.

I was hoping that I could play that year.  That hope was dashed when I had my port put in.  No contact sports. I would have that port in until 2009.

Two frickin years.

Two years of not playing hockey.

That was hard. Obviously going through chemo, radiation, surgeries and all the crap that went with it was hard, but not playing was hard. 

Hockey is cathartic for me. 

It is zen for me. 

There is something about the stillness about getting on a freshly zambonied sheet of ice.  Hearing your skate blades hit the ice for the first time.  Skating a few times around the rink.   Doing some stretches.  Then getting into the game.

If everything is going crazy in the world the ice is the one place where everything makes sense.  I think everyone has one of those places.  For me it just happens to be a rink.  

Not being able to skate and to play made me feel less like me.  Trying other sports or activities to fill the void just didn't cut it. 

Something was missing. 

Something that was a part of me.

As I got dressed in the locker room with some of the ladies that I have played with before I felt a sense of peace that I haven't felt in a while.  

Stepping out onto the ice I felt shaky.  But skating is like riding a bike you never forget.

We did drills and did a draft for teams and then we scrimmaged.  There were players on the ice that were better than me and some that were not.

As I sat on the bench between plays all I kept thinking was this:

I beat cancer I can do anything on the ice.

 

I'll keep you posted when I net my first hat trick.

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

Road Trippin'

  

 I had 2 doctors visits in one week.  That is unusual for me lately.  Both were routine follow ups from oncology and radiation oncology.  I didn't have the usual scanxiety that I usually have.  I had a mammogram just a month before and everything was normal, so I naturally assumed that neither doc would find any problems.

I like to drive.  Everywhere.  I drive more than Doug.  When I lived in LA that was part of my job, driving to set, from editorial to one of the post houses, mix stages etc. Most people get totally stressed in rush hour on the 101, the Hollywood Freeway.  I find it relaxing.  Yeah your not moving, but you can clear your mind and focus.

I would always drive to my doctor appointments, chemo, radiation, I think I even drove to surgery.  Most of the time after chemo I wasn't in any shape to drive, the drugs would knock me out (and no I didn't drive after my lumpectomy surgery, but apparently I called several people to tell them I was ok while I was still heavily medicated.  Wonder if that audio is still around.)

Monday I drove to the oncologist.  Driving to the hospital for what I knew would be a routine follow up brought a flood of memories to me.  Why I don't know.  I thought about the routine I would have for the day.  I would get my blood drawn out of my port at about 9am.  Hated that goddamn port. Looked like a fucking bottlecap under my skin, and it would hurt sometimes when I moved a certain way.   Go to work and produce The Vic McCarty Show for 2 hours, drive home.  Put lidocaine on my port and cover it with plastic wrap so it wouldn't rub off.  Lidocaine numbs the area.  I would see the oncologist.  he would go over my blood counts to make sure I was strong enough to do the chemo, then it was a short walk to the infusion center.  There were a couple of times that I forgot to put Lidocaine on my port and when they jabbed the syringe in me for the chemo  it hurt like hell for the entire treatment, which lasted anywhere from 1-3 hours, depending upon the meds.

I thought about how much I had been through.  Sometimes I can't believe it.  Its only been 3 years but it also feels like a lifetime ago.  I thought about how much Doug has been there for me. Every chemo, every radiation.  During chemo I would fall asleep  because of the meds and he would go to the cafeteria to get something to eat for himself.  He would come back with Lays potato chips for me.  They made me feel better when I was done.  I would groggily walk to the exit of the cancer center and Doug would get the car and pull it up so I wouldn't have to walk too far. 

During the drive to the doctor I wondered why I wasn't nervous or scared.  Was it because I was just too busy with work and advocacy?  Maybe I have just gotten to a place where I know I am going to be ok, and as my friend Donald Wilhelm would say "It is what it is." 

No its neither one of those things.  I don't know why the appointments didn't bother me.  I still don't.  It makes no sense.

Cancer still affects me.  Well the side effects do anyway.  The neuropathy that went away now comes and goes.  Like I need a fucking reminder that I had cancer.  It frustrates me that I still have it.  That when sometimes when I am doing pilates I can't feel my toes or part of my foot.  Kind of hard to focus on the poses and breathing when you aren't even sure where your foot it.  I know its where it should be.  I just can't fucking feel it.  Frustrating when the instructor asks you to move a part of your foot and you have no clue if you are or not.

And the damn depression.

Of all the side effects I have had I wish I could trade that one for something else, like you used to to with marbles or baseball cards when you were a kid? 

Hey I'll trade you depression for insomnia or chemobrain.

Shit.  I have both of those too. 

Nevermind..

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

You Like Me, You Really Like Me!!!

Just got an email today from Amy from licensedpracticalnurse.com saying they liked my blog and is featuring it on their website as one of their top breast cancer blogs.

I am honored and humbled by The Cancer Warrior's inclusion in this list.

I hope this means that I am making a difference in cancer survivor's lives.


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

Great information for everyone in the breast cancer community

Fearless????

I was planning on writing a blog about something else unrelated to this topic.  This one gets every survivor.

I was having a great day.  Just did a great radio interview. Had an awesome lunch with the crew from work.  My internet still isnt' working at home so I decided to check facebook on my phone.

Thats when I saw the post


Bad News.

My cancer is back.

Nothing sends shock waves through you like hearing or reading that.  Recurrance.  The scariest word a survivor can hear.

I posted something on her wall.  I told her I would help her out in any way I can.  I can't help her out financially.  Financially I am the Titanic and the iceberg is my debt.  Cant seem to steer clear of it.  I can help her emotionally.  Listen to her.  She is far away.  I can't hug her, or be there in person for her.  That makes me sad.

Quite frankly what she is going through scares the hell out of me.

A friend of mine recently called me fearless.

Now you know the one thing I fear the most.

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

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