The Canadian Cancer Society says that one in nine women is expected to develop breast cancer during her lifetime and one in 28 will die of it.
My elderly next-door neighbor on one side of our home is a breast cancer survivor of nine years. Her daughter is a breast cancer survivor of 11 years.
My next-door neighbor on the other side of our home was diagnosed with breast cancer two weeks after I was. Her cancer surgery followed mine five days later. We are recuperating together.
What are the odds that three houses in a row on the same side of the street each have a woman living with a breast cancer diagnosis? How bizarre is that? One in nine Canadian women will develop breast cancer in her lifetime…really?
One of the breast cancer neighbors has wondered if the electric power substation that is a few houses down on the street has anything to do with it. There are some studies that have been conducted that say there is a connection, others say it’s not so. One of my surgery recovery nurses mentioned that there might be a connection. It instantly made me wonder if we need to sell our house that we’ve enjoyed as of late following extensive renovations to the interior and the yard.
The neighbor who is in active breast cancer treatment at the same time as me shares some similar characteristics. Neither of us have breast cancer histories in our families. She is a handful of years older, and has been a working professional for her entire career. She is used to accommodating a demanding job, is busy with it, and carries a lot of responsibility as a manager. She has worked full time outside the home for three decades and raised two children while doing it. Like me, she too is having a hard time slowing down her life dramatically in living with cancer.
In this journey, there is some comfort in traveling with my neighbor as she also battles for her life against cancer. I feel less alone as my experiences are also her experiences. We have the gift of time to spend together to get to know one another better, and to support each other in living with the same illness.
We compare notes about our cancer travels. It is therapeutic to know that we are experiencing many of the same feelings, fears, and surgery recovery symptoms. We compare notes about our boredom and adjusting to having time on our hands that we’re not quite sure what to do with. We compare notes about our hubbies and kids and how this disease touches lives beyond our own, forcing those close to us to travel in their own unique journeys in living with a family member who has cancer.
Now that my neighbor and I are both feeling a little stronger post-surgery, we are starting to go on daily walks together. We are enjoying the sunshine and fresh air that greets us on these jaunts along with the benefit of exercise to help us recover better. We are looking forward to sharing coffee and tea on our patios this summer as we undergo treatments, rest, and recover in managing our cancer.
Together we face our journeys in living with cancer with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
My surgery recovery is slower than I thought it would be. I am still quite weak and tired. I am bored, housebound, can’t drive yet, and am unable to do a whole lot as I rehabilitate. This is a radical change of pace for me.
Yesterday was a day of mild anxiety. Nearly three weeks have passed since my mastectomy. It was time to see my surgeon for a post–surgery follow up appointment.
Two bonuses came from the surgeon’s visit.
The first bonus was that the sentinel node that was removed during surgery underwent a post-surgery biopsy. The results re-confirmed that cancer had not spread to the lymph nodes. It was localized in the area where it was initially diagnosed. This is good news.
My surgeon also confirmed that the surgery biopsy results of carcinosarcoma of the breast were concurrent with the initial biopsy results that led to the mastectomy treatment.
The second bonus is that I finally had my surgical drain removed. What an instant relief that was. No more pulling and pinching with twinges of pain that the drain caused. I can now stand straighter as the pressure of the drain prevented me from doing so. Last night, I moved from three weeks of sleeping on a recliner to sleeping on a bed. I could finally experience a restful sleep.
My surgeon said that I might not be required to undergo chemotherapy and radiation. The cancer appears to have been self-contained in the lump that was removed with the mastectomy. The mastectomy biopsy results are now being sent by the surgeon to a medical oncologist for a second opinion to determine the next steps. I now am waiting a few weeks to see what will happen with my treatment.
During the visit, I was asked if I would give consent to have the removed tissue donated to medical research. I didn’t hesitate to sign the consent form. It’s my small way of helping medical researchers to study this rare form of breast cancer to learn more about it to the benefit of other future patients.
At this point, I am cautiously optimistic with the surgical biopsy results.
I am concerned about the uniqueness of carcinosarcoma as it can be resistant to chemotherapy and radiation treatments. It is also an aggressive form of cancer that can return and grow quickly.
I trust my surgeon’s expertise and that of the medical oncologist who will look at my results to determine the next steps. I suspect that if a patient does not need to go through chemotherapy and radiation, then they bypass these treatments. Time will tell what applies to me.
A “surgery only” step wasn’t one that I thought would be part of my treatment plan, given that my tumor was over three centimeters when it was removed. In pre-surgery medical visits with various members of my treatment team, I was told that chemo and or radiation are part of ridding your body of cancer. Mentally, I prepared myself for chemotherapy and possible radiation as they generally follows cancer surgery.
There is somewhat of a “security blanket” I feel with these other cancer treatments. They are preventative measures to ensure that any remnants of cancer are (temporarily) eliminated. I’m a bit apprehensive about the possibility that chemo and radiation may not be required.
If my treatment outcome does not include chemotherapy or radiation, I will be somewhat relieved. But, I will not forget that cancer will always be a part of my “new normal” life now. I know that I will have to be very vigilant in self-monitoring of my body for any potential cancer symptoms arising. I know that regular medical check-ups will now be part of monitoring for a cancer recurrence for the rest of my life.
For now, all is well. There are some surgical side effects that we’re watching in the next couple of weeks that include some post-surgery swelling, and restricted motion and strength in my arm. My daily post-surgery exercises are continuing as I try to improve the use of my arm. I may need to undergo some physiotherapy to regain full use of my arm.
I am learning to live one day at a time with a cancer diagnosis. I am learning to live with my “new normal” with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
I’ve never been much of a dreamer. I’ve never been much of a gardener. My family and others close to me will attest to that. They would say that I’ve been too grounded in reality and practicality to dream and to garden.
Chalk it up to being too busy raising a family. Chalk it up to working full time outside the home with the start of gardening season colliding with the busiest time of the year at work. Chalk it up to the Herculean task that is required to turn Manitoba gumbo into pliable soil to make a garden grow.
This year is going to be different. My family is raised. My work is on hold. My garden gumbo is going to be “gone-zo”.
A cancer diagnosis has robbed me of some of my dreams and hopes. Instead, it is teaching me to let go of old dreams and hopes and replace them with new chances to dream and to hope. These new dreams and hopes are more realistic. They reside closer to home instead of far-away lands. These new dreams and hopes are gifts that are waiting for me to respond.
In living with cancer, one of my new dreams is to blend horticulture with hope to create a “Healing Garden of Hope” in our back yard. I was inspired to create a private healing (and scaled down) garden after viewing this breast cancer healing garden video from the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBTD_KT5fMM
Healing gardens have their origins in ancient times when monasteries used them as environments to focus on one’s mind, body, and spirit rather than on the symptoms of a disease. Today, healing gardens are experiencing a revival as hospitals and treatment centres erect them as alternative therapies for managing chronic diseases and other ailments.
There is something soulful, tranquil, and peaceful about resting in the surroundings of a healing garden that I am drawn to partake in this summer. The garden is meant to provide sensory experiences in a calming and restorative landscape.
The healing garden is where I want to spend time this year to recover and rest from my cancer surgery. The healing garden will replace our annual cabin rental holiday this year, as medical appointments will be keeping me in town. The healing garden is where I plan to spend hours in conversation with people who matter to me, as their visits become more and more meaningful now as I live with cancer.
In thinking about the healing garden and it’s “how to’s,” my computer dictionary aptly describes my handiwork with horticulture as a noun: “your gardener apparently knows very little about horticulture.” Truer words were never spoken about my gardening abilities. However, I am open to learning and am undaunted by this gardening challenge.
I know that amongst the “Warrior Women of the Amazon Tribe” and the “Action Heroes” who are traveling with me on this cancer journey, that there are teachers and practitioners of horticulture amongst them who will help me to make this dream become a reality with their help. A local greenhouse and a landscaping company that will design and build our healing garden will aid them.
The healing garden will provide me with the soothing environment I need to continue to accept my illness and help prevent me from being resentful about my cancer diagnosis. My hope is that the garden will help to allay my fears in this cancer journey.
Daily, I choose to reframe my thinking about my cancer diagnosis by turning a negative outlook into something positive. Daily, I choose to be positive, as being negative is counter-productive. It takes too much of my energy, which I’d rather channel into something positive each day.
I look forward to positive experiences this summer in the healing garden as I spend soulful time with loved ones. We will have many meaningful conversations surrounded by fragrances, fluttering butterflies and songbirds. My healing garden will help me to continue to fight cancer with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
When you’re in the throes of battling cancer, it’s easy to get preoccupied on focusing on yourself. Some would say this is the way it’s supposed to be, that this is necessary.
While you’re dealing with this disease, there are many unsung heroes in the background who are a part of this cancer drama. They are the “burden bearers.”
The burden bearers take on the tasks of everyday life so that you can get better without worrying about what needs to get done when you can’t “do the doing.”
The burden bearers have triple roles: they go to work, they step in to take care of you, and they step in to take care of the day-to-day details when cancer strikes. They step in to run your household when your cancer diagnosis forces you to step out.
Our household has been a family unit for over three decades. My husband’s shift work made me become the primary caregiver of our children and the COH (Chief of the Household) in taking care of family life. I became a master juggler as a full time professional working mom, CCR (Chief of Child Rearing), and maintainer of all things household.
Circumstances dictated that I had to become a fiercely independent and a self-reliant master juggler. It became a way of life.
This way of life is now one that I struggle with in letting go of control and letting others step in so that I can focus on battling cancer and getting better. This is ultimately the biggest lesson I need to learn in this cancer journey. This lesson will be applied to many situations in the next few months as I face each stage of cancer treatment that awaits me.
There has been a definite role switch in our family as we all live with a cancer diagnosis. We are all finding our ways of adapting, but it is difficult. The role switch isn’t easy for me, my husband, my kids and their mates, and our extended family. It’s an undoing of decades of routine, of decades of predictability, of decades of normalcy. Things are different now, routines are different now, and our lives are different now.
The primary “burden bearer” in this cancer journey is my husband. At a time when he was looking forward to his retirement that is around the corner, he acquired a new lifetime job as a “cancer husband.”
He is now the COH. The CCR role is diminished with adult children. He still works full time with his customary schedule of two-week rotations, alternating shifts, late nights, weekends, and long days. His energies are taxed with work and the new cancer husband job. His stress has doubled.
He is learning to become a master juggler in keeping many balls in the air while working full time, attending to cancer patient care, cancer medical appointments, household tasks, and yard work. At times, it’s overwhelming for him.
Cancer survivors have told me that they feel the “burden bearers” of this disease are not them, but their spouses and others who care for them in dealing with this disease. I believe it because I see it. There are days when my husband looks weary and tired from bearing the burdens of being a cancer spouse.
But, his dedication and attentiveness are unwavering. Words can’t describe my gratefulness to him, my children and their partners, my extended family, and my friends for their love, care, and help at this difficult and demanding time in our lives.
Together, we will all get through these challenging cancer travels. Together, we will fight on with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
The mind of a cancer patient is like a busy highway. There are many comings and goings of thoughts and questions that race around looking for their traveling spot on the roadway of your brain, on the roadway of your life.
The thoughts are of those you love. The thoughts are of regrets you have in the things you may no longer be able to do. The thoughts are of finding the right time and the right words to apologize to those you have hurt throughout your life. The thoughts are of thanking people daily for the gifts they are in your life.
The thoughts are also of dreams you once held, that you now let go of. The thoughts of tomorrow are hard to fathom, as you can focus only on one day at a time when you live with a life threatening disease. The thoughts are of winning one victory at a time in your fight against cancer.
Then there are the questions.
The questions travel on the speedways of your brain, on the speedways of your life. They are fast and are always in a hurry. They are also fleeting. They enter your mind quickly and leave just as fast, because it’s too hard to dwell on the questions. These fleeting questions have no time to wait; they have no time to waste.
There are many questions in the mind of a cancer patient. They all have similar starts, where you fill in the blanks differently each time you raise them. They are questions like: “Will this be my last…?” “Will I be able to….?” “Is it…?” “ Will I see my first….?” “What if…..?”
Time feels like it ticks away faster when you live with cancer. Life’s questions arise, but you don’t know if you will have an answer, if you will have the time to see the outcomes about which you ponder.
Several years ago, a work mentor and I were discussing long range plans for a project we were working on. As we had worked quite closely for some time, he got to know me quite well and was adept at challenging me to think.
One day during one of our work conversations, he jokingly commented that “your mind is a scary place” in the thoughts that were rambling around in my brain that we were discussing. In that conversation, he reminded me that I needed to learn to slow down in my thinking to let others catch up with me on my thoughts and ideas.
Perhaps his wisdom still applies today. Perhaps I need to slow down in my thoughts and ideas about living with cancer so that others can catch up with me. I am trying to apply my mentor’s wisdom in my thoughts in living daily with cancer.
The comment was made 10 years ago. It was a time before my mentor and I were both living with cancer. I wonder what he would say now about the thoughts in my mind. I wonder if he thinks about living with cancer in the back of his mind each day. He’s doing well, and is in remission at this time.
American Artist Bill Keane, creator of the comic strip "Family Circus", once said something that reminds me of the value of living in the moment. “Yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future, but today is a gift. That's why it's called the present.”
I live today knowing that it is a gift. I am learning to live in the present with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
Twenty-six years ago I became a mom for the first time to a beautiful boy. Four years later a gorgeous girl joined our family.
Becoming a mom happened at a time when my body was well. I enjoyed good health and was able to birth two children. It was a time when my body was strong and did not let me down with poor health as it does now. It was a time when my life changed and I lived for the future, raising my kids.
With cancer, I now live for the moment and enjoy my kids more than I ever have. Being present to them and being in their presence is what I hang my hopes on in living with cancer and fighting this disease.
Being a mother has been one of life’s most rewarding experiences. It’s also one where I have done a lot of “flying by the seat of my pants” in parenting. There is no book that tells all in being a mother.
Although you can take the parenting classes, and read a library full of parenting books, you’re never quite prepared for being a mom. Raising children is an experience that is universal, but is unique at the same time for each child raised is not like any other.
The early years of mothering are a blur. You are busy attending to the needs of these young lives that you welcome into your family. The years go quickly.
It doesn’t seem so long ago when my infants became toddlers, became pre-schoolers, became school age, became adolescents, became teenagers, and are now young adults forming their own lives.
You go from active parenting where your children are totally dependent on your care, to enjoying life along side them on ball diamonds, soccer pitches, pool sides, basketball courts, music lessons, parent-teacher interviews, and an array of other activities. Quickly, those moments of being along side your children, become sidelined as your children move forward to adulthood and make their own decisions.
Hopefully, along the way you have parented well. You see that your role changes over the years, but becomes more loving and fluid in adapting to being a mother of adult children. I am still a mother and will always be. My role now is more of a coach who waits to be asked for advice. I am also an adult friend.
Daily, I see the rewards of parenting well. I enjoy my kids for the unique individuals they have become. I enjoy being with my kids in the normal day to day things of life. I enjoy being invited into their worlds as they enter new phases of being adults coming to full maturity in finishing post-secondary schooling, in having good jobs, in buying a first home, and in getting married.
My kids are the treasures in my life. They each have their own personalities. One is more like me, the other is more like their father. They have a bit of both of us in each of them. They are kind, responsible, and caring. They love from their hearts and show it freely.
With my cancer diagnosis, their love is more genuine, more sincere, more heartfelt. They show it in acts of kindness. They show it in sharing household chores. They show it in coming with me to appointments. They show it in hovering around me, in just spending time with Mom.
As a mom, one of the things I had hoped to pass on to them was the concept of “being present” to people in their life’s journey. It’s a hard concept to teach. It’s a concept that is best taught by example.
Somewhere in parenting my children, they have caught the concept of “being present,” not only to me but also to so many others they are close to. I am particularly moved when I see them “being present” to their elderly grandmothers each time they are with them. They know the value of spending time with those you love.
I am grateful for the gift of “being present” in the lives of others, and in “being present” in the lives of my children and now their partners. The parenting rewards bring me peace and joy as I live with a life-threatening disease.
The gift of being present carries on daily as I live with cancer with Strength, Courage, and Determination.