My Christmas Gift--the Gift of Peace Returning

Ten months have passed since I wrote my last blog. February 13,2013 seems so long ago. It is a long time ago.

In this time away from blogging, I wondered if the blog’s only purpose was a cathartic one as a way of journaling my experience of living with cancer and sharing the story with friends and family who joined me in this journey. With cancer treatments and rehab behind me, I thought that perhaps no one would be interested in continuing to read a cancer survivor’s blog. Apparently I was wrong.

It is with encouragement from family and friends that I return to writing this blog. They have told me that they periodically visit the blog and haven’t seen any updates. They are wondering what my life is now like post treatment, so I will resume writing this blog and will share with you how my life continues to evolve as a cancer survivor.

Many things have happened since February. Some good. Some bad. Only now in looking back, do I realize how much has happened since my cancer diagnosis of March 2010. 

It has been nearly three stormy years since that life-changing diagnosis day.  I can now say, that I have recently started to live my life with profound peace. Interestingly enough, this peace coincides with the Advent season.

My Christmas gift this year is the return of peace in my life and being able to live

joyfully each day.  It has been a long time coming.

The experience of diagnosis, treatment, and surviving feels like a bad dream, but the scars on my body, my radiation tattoos, and taking of a potent daily drug (for five years) to keep cancer from reproducing are reminders that it was, and is, real.

My last post talked about post-surgery jaundice and an unknown cause. After tests and scans and a few visits with a nephrologist, no definitive diagnosis was ever found.  An unusual and unexplained occurrence I’m told, that still requires yearly monitoring of some small lesions because of my cancer history with the liver being one area where breast cancer can metastasize. I am still far away from the five-year mark of living without evidence of cancer, so these precautions are warranted.

Our son Josh and his wife Jill eloped in Honolulu in July and called to tell us later that evening. We happily celebrated after their return, by hosting a backyard luau reception in their honour. The weather cooperated as family and friends brought well wishes and their celebratory presence. It was so much fun meeting their friends and spending time with them as they honoured the newlyweds.

In July, one of my dear friends of almost 30 years died of brain cancer. I was with her during the last few days and saw her only hours before she passed. I relived being a cancer patient all over again with the gamut of emotions that comes with it. As she was only a handful of years older than me, I could clearly visualize that it could have been me that was dying. I miss her and always will remember what a gift she was in my life.

In October 2011, I was appointed as an Executive Sponsor to the Manitoba Cancer Partnership Steering Committee by CancerCare Manitoba and Manitoba Health, as a patient advisor. I work with a Co-Executive Sponsor, another cancer survivor on the steering committee. In addition to this, we co-chair a six-member cancer patient advisory committee. 

I have never worked with such a group of dedicated and determined people who want to make a difference for other cancer patients in Manitoba. It is rewarding volunteer work in advocating for other cancer patients to improve their journey through the healthcare system. Our voices are being heard and we will continue to push for positive changes for cancer patients.

We recently completed our first year of a five-year term on the steering committee and are starting to see some positive changes to make the cancer treatment journey better for patients and their families. I will write more about this in future blogs.

Returning to work as a cancer survivor has been difficult. It was far more difficult than I could have imagined.  Fighting cancer and surviving has changed me as a person. It has changed how I want to spend my valuable time because each day is a gift. It has also taught me what is important in life, and what I value each day.

This past fall, after working for 11 years with my former employer, I left my position.  I needed to follow my heart in a job where my spirits could soar. I wanted to return to the not-for-profit sector.

I found a new job quickly.  I had applied for three positions in early fall, had three interviews, and two job offers. The job I really wanted was offered to me, and is one where I joyfully go to work each day and follow my heart. 

My new employer is a non-government organization that I was acquainted with in the past as a corporate funder. It is so satisfying to work each day in a job that serves the poor. At the end of next month, my new job will take me into the field as I visit projects we are involved with in Ethiopia. It is a trip of a lifetime as Africa is a place I have wanted to visit since I was a child.

Life is good! Cancer taught me to live one day at a time and I still do so. I don’t look too far into the future and live more in the moment. I greet each day with a new sense of purpose, and I do so with Strength, Courage, and Determination.

Mellow Yellow Fades Away and Cancer Free Again

Relief.

I’m cancer free, round three. The mellow yellow jaundice of the last seven weeks has now cleared.

My recent CT and bone scans to screen for a possible cancer recurrence came back clean this week, and my elevated liver enzymes are dropping. I have won yet another round of chasing possible cancer. My shoulders feel lighter and the bounce is back in my steps.

However, the mystery of what has caused this post-operative jaundice remains unsolved. My doctor says indications are leaning more and more to a hypersensitivity or allergic reaction to anesthetic. A full review of my surgical files of the last eight years has been ordered to see if there have been multiple exposures to an anesthetic that may have triggered the reaction.

If this is the case (through a hepatologist consultation), we’re hoping this solves the mystery so that any future surgeries that may be required will prevent the use of the offending anesthetic, as it could be life threatening the next time. Anesthetic reaction is not a common side effect, but none of my many cancer treatments these past two years have been straight forward and without complications.

So, I live with an enhanced gift of awareness and gratefulness for my life. Two new scares of possible cancer since May 2011 have been to say the least, arduous and stressful. I am hoping that as my current cancer-free state continues, that I can move beyond the “identity” of being a cancer patient and find some good that has come out of this experience.

My life is slowly returning to its new normal. I’ve been cleared to return to work starting next week, and have renewed my gym membership for those daily workout treks that help reduce my risk of recurrence. For balance and personal interest, I round out my life with continued volunteerism with the Immigrant Centre, CancerCare, and my recent appointment as a patient representative on a provincial steering committee that is tasked with reforming cancer patient care.

The cancer “lemons” have been difficult to digest. I am resolved to make lemonade out of the cancer patient experience to benefit thousands of other cancer patients in Manitoba, and will do so with Strength, Courage, and Determination.

Mellow Yellow and a Medical Mystery

In the time that has elapsed since my last post-surgery blog in late December, an interesting post-op complication lingers. A few days after surgery, I developed a mild form of jaundice, which has stayed with me these past five weeks.

It’s a medical mystery, currently under review by an array of doctors. We have ruled out pre/post-surgery drug interactions, and a reaction to anesthetic from the two surgeries I’ve had since spring 2010. The only clue as to what is going on with my body is an elevated liver enzyme, without a known cause.

As a recent cancer survivor, I undergo quarterly medical check-ups and blood work, which includes testing for white blood cell counts, cancer markers, hemoglobin levels, liver enzymes, thyroid and bilirubin counts.

In September, October (pre-op prep), and December, all of these levels were normal. Between first noticing jaundice, seeing my doctor the week of Christmas, and then again two weeks ago, one liver enzyme (alkaline phosphatase) climbed to four to eight times the acceptable range. There are no other irregularities with my most recent blood work results.

I have no pain, swelling, or loss of appetite. I am tired, but am still recovering from major surgery. I am somewhat fatigued all the time, as my cancer drug Tamoxifen is a form of chemo, and fatigue is a side effect.

My medical team does not know why this jaundice is occurring, as the symptoms are unusual. My doctors have put on their detective hats, and are trying to solve this medical mystery.

The diagnosis of jaundice is done by the elimination of possible contributing factors. We know that drugs and anesthetic don’t appear to be the problem. I did not have a blood transfusion during the last surgery. Other potential causes could be hepatitis, a blocked bile duct, inflammation, cancer, or an unknown cause. Because of my cancer history, the medical team is being prudent in further testing as breast cancer can return to my other breast, bones, lungs, liver or brain.

Discussions have taken place between my family doctor and surgeons, anesthetists, and my medical oncologist. The oncologist and family doctor have determined that I need to undergo more blood work tests, a CT scan, a bone scan, and a referral to a hepatologist (liver specialist) to see what may be triggering this problem. It feels like the suspicion of cancer and diagnostic screening all over again.

My nurse educator tells me that every time something suspicious arises with my health, the fear of cancer returning is a normal reaction that all cancer survivors go through as part of their journey with this disease. As my surgical oncologist once said, “women with a breast cancer history live the rest of their lives with the feeling of a guillotine hanging over their heads.“

The stress levels are creeping up. This time of anxiety is so familiar. I am on another roller coaster ride in living with a cancer history. I am still off work, and am trying to stay calm and busy with mindless home projects to distract my worried thoughts. It is a difficult topic to talk about…

I am resolved to work through this medical mystery one day at a time and trust that all will be well. I will do so with Strength, Courage, and Determination.