Today, I had another follow up visit with my surgical oncologist. He made my day. After going through the results of my latest mammogram and recent CT scan he pronounced that I am officially in cancer remission. “You’re now a breast cancer survivor” he smiled.
It has been a monumental day. Tears flowed, and smiles ran broadly across loved ones’ faces with the news. Admittedly, I am still digesting the good news. I wasn’t expecting to find out the remission status until my oncologist’s appointment in May. It is a relief that the nightmarish last 11 months of my life is now over and I am in good health. I think a celebration is needed…
As a breast cancer survivor, I have been asked to participate in a local study being funded by the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, the cancer treatment organization, and the local university’s School of Medical Rehabilitation. The study involves following a group of breast cancer survivors and monitoring their exercise, physical fitness, and diet.
The researchers involved include an oncologist, physiotherapists, a dietician and a personal trainer. The goal of the study is to see how diet, nutrition and exercise affect breast cancer recovery from treatment, and if the healthy lifestyle can potentially ward off a cancer recurrence.
Yesterday, my physicality and body strength were measured, accompanied by several questionnaires on lifestyle, exercise, rest, diet, and social support. In some of the physical testing I found out that I came out of chemotherapy without any effect on my heart function. My resting heart rate was considerably lower than the adult average and my blood pressure levels were low.
I did reasonably well on some of the strength tests, and miserably on others. The physiotherapist that assessed me recommended some alterations in my daily work-out routine to help build more body strength as I continue working on physical recovery from all of the treatments.
At the end of the session I was issued a pedometer, which I will have to wear daily for the next 40 weeks to monitor my physical activity. I am also required to keep a daily physical activity logbook and food diary for three days each month. In late March, I will return for physical testing to see if there have been any changes in my bodily strength. The food diary and monthly physical strength monitoring will continue for the duration of the study.
In April, several sessions with the dietician, physiotherapist and personal trainer will begin. Each study candidate will be closely monitored on their program progress. It is expected that individualized plans will be created to participants to achieve optimal health as they recover from their cancer treatments.
A new chapter in my life has started to be written today. I will continue my daily fight against cancer with prevention as my new goal. I continue to move forward in this new “normal” life with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
Early next month, it will be one year since my breast cancer diagnosis. It has been a whirlwind year that has forever changed my life and the lives of those around me.
After the surgery, chemo, and radiation, I’m now living the “new normal” life after cancer treatments. Every day, I realize that although I had led a healthy lifestyle pre-cancer, there is a lot of room for improvement.
After meeting with a breast cancer nutritionist and two physiotherapists earlier this week,
I learned that my diet and taking care of my body both needed more work. Life and cancer treatments have not been kind to my body.
The encounters with medical professionals raised two truths for me—I have to take much better care of my body post cancer every day for the rest of my life. Each medical professional in my cancer rehab regime has made me realize what “hell” my body has been through these past 10 months of treatment.
I’ve been told that getting my body back into a state of overall health will take several months of persistent daily action and activity. The medical caregivers reiterated that an hour of exercise is now to be part of my daily “new normal” in living with a breast cancer history.
Living this “new normal” to get healthy has seen me drop a clothing size in a month. Weighing and measuring food intake is a now a mainstay to monitor caloric intake against exercise output. There is still more work to be done.
I have many more pounds to lose to get to a very low fat content in my body in order to block estrogen production, and thus lessen the risk of a breast cancer recurrence. This loss of weight is harder to achieve than in the past—there are the forces of middle age, menopause, and chemo cargo to overcome (cancer treatments added 20 pounds).
The more difficult challenge is maintaining the daily exercise regime of 60 minutes a day to get my body healthy and strong, maintain it, and ward off potential cancer. An hour of daily exercise is my new “physical prescription” for a healthy body. It is now part of my ”new normal” in living with a cancer history.
With this new daily commitment, I have gained a much greater appreciation for the gym “die-hards” that faithfully commit to their daily exercise. The commitment to a healthier me is difficult to uphold—I’ve come close as I’ve been at the gym 5-6 times per week since January 1. I think I’m doing quite well—given that I started this commitment to exercise only two days after my final radiation treatment.
Very slowly my physical body is starting to return to its “new normal.” It will be some time before I can handle a regular daily routine as lived pre-cancer, as my energy levels are not what they were before I got sick. Time will tell if I will return to the old energy levels of the past, or if the “new norm” equates to lower energy levels as a permanent way of life.
As I live this “new normal” life, I have to keep reminding myself to be patient and gentle about my cancer treatment recovery. It wasn’t so long ago that my body lived through hell daily just to survive chemo and its horrid complications. I am lucky and grateful to be alive.
Daily I remind myself that my life has been blessed with a second chance. I continue to keep adjusting to a “new normal” life with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
As I ponder my “second” life after cancer treatment, I’ve come to realize that there are parallels in how the treatment is similar to living in a cocoon.
While in treatment, the medical professionals surround cancer patients in helping them to cope in living with this devastating disease. There is a sense of urgency to fight the cancer that’s taken hold of one’s body. The medical professionals protect you as they inject you with drugs or radiation, watch your symptoms, check your blood chemistry regularly, boost your sagging sprits, and care about your overall well-being.
Then one day, after months of being housed and protected in a “cancer cocoon,” the treatment ends. The waiting is similar to that of a butterfly waiting to emerge from their cocoon--the cancer patient is finally freed to fly away to begin their life again as it once was prior to treatment.
When the frenetic world of cancer treatment stops, patients immediately transition overnight into their “new normal” life in living with a cancer history. This “new normal” life is hard to define, as it is not the same life that one lived prior to the cancer diagnosis.
In the nearly four weeks that have elapsed since my radiation, I’ve added another birthday and a new outlook to my life. I find myself feeling somewhat lost in living this “new normal” life. From the outside, I look well and could fool some people into believing that I never had cancer. There are days with moments where I feel well enough that life seems normal, and then a wave of fatigue sets in the afternoon to remind me that I’m still healing from months of trauma on my body.
There are other reminders that I recently battled the disease. My mind still has lapses of short-term memory loss because of the chemotherapy. My hair has grown back as mostly white and wavy. My eyebrows and eyelashes are starting to fill in. My physical body reminds me daily that it bore the brunt of the cancer battle’s various treatments.
Each day, I am on the rebound to build a healthy body as I work out at the gym and change my diet. The workouts have made me realize that cancer treatment recovery is a slow process, which will take many months, if not years to completely heal. My Type A personality would like the recovery to be faster, even though I know that are months of trauma to heal from, and that I have to be patient as my body rebuilds.
After three weeks, I am starting to reach optimal cardiovascular conditioning that has come from 45 minutes of daily interval training on a treadmill. This part of rebuilding a healthy body was easy. The mastectomy and months of inactivity with chemo and radiation treatments have resulted in a lack of upper body and arm strength, and range of motion. The reconditioning of my upper body is much harder to attain than heart health.
There is the weight that I need to lose that was put on with treatments. The goal is to have low overall body fat as excess fat produces estrogen, which is being blocked in my body by cancer medication.
Months of battling cancer have given me a different outlook on life. Cancer is teaching me to be patient and to slow down—both good things for my overall well-being. I’ve come out of the experience realizing that I am a lot tougher than I thought I was. My perspective on what is important in life has changed. The things that I once valued no longer hold the same importance to me that they once did. My body has changed and is undergoing its own metamorphosis to become leaner, stronger, and better equipped to fight a potential cancer recurrence.
The battle of cancer is a life-long war. I continue the fight in my “new normal” life with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
With my final radiation treatment on December 30, a new era of living with cancer has begun. This new era—cancer treatment recovery and prevention, is one where I am the active participant in my health care. The medical professionals who managed my treatment these past several months have completed their roles to treat cancer. It’s now my turn.
I’m told that being successful in a new endeavor relies on having a concrete goal to strive for. I can’t think of a better goal to achieve than to have a healthy body to help prevent a cancer recurrence.
Somewhere in my readings, I learned that it takes three weeks to develop a new habit. My physiotherapist once told me that it also only takes three weeks to lose fitness levels if one becomes inactive. Cancer treatments placed me in many months of inactivity. So, getting healthy this year will involve a series of cumulative baby steps over the next few months.
I have started to live an even healthier lifestyle than in the past through daily exercise, weight loss, improved diet, and more rest. On January 1, I began daily walks, which are now up to an hour. My lower body muscles are strengthening, and my cardio function is improving. I am far from the fitness level I was at last April prior to my mastectomy, but it will return in a few weeks. By early February, my radiated skin should be sufficiently healed enabling me to take aquafit classes, my preferred exercise for over 20 years.
Medical literature on cancer survival and prevention says that an hour of daily exercise and a cancer diet help to ward off the disease. Women with a breast cancer history are additionally encouraged to lower fat levels in their bodies, as elevated fat levels increase estrogen production, which contributes to breast cancer.
For me, this means losing the weight I put on with cancer treatments and inactivity. Additionally, I will lose more weight to achieve low fat levels in my body. My deadline to lose the weight is the beginning of May, concurrent with the next six-month check-up with my oncologist. The weight loss will be come with a diet that promotes cancer prevention using fresh fruit and vegetables, whole grains, nuts, olive oil, and occasionally fish.
Tomorrow, I will meet with one of my Y aquafit instructors to set up a strengthening and conditioning program to rebuild my body in the gym, and then in the pool one month later. We will create a fitness program that will use weights and machines to develop strength and range of motion in my arms, shoulders, and torso.
Today is Day 10 of the “healthier me” program. Each morning I wake up and am grateful for a second chance of life. I will get healthier in the same way that I endured months of cancer treatment - with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
Yesterday, the final phase of active cancer treatment ended with my last radiation appointment. It was supposed to be on January 3, but selected cancer patients were asked to come in on the December 27 statutory holiday so that their last radiation treatment could conclude before the end of the year.
I can now say that the active part of my cancer treatment, which started last February is over. Today marks the first time in over five months that I won’t have some form of daily treatment.
The passive treatment that remains is minor in comparison to what I’ve been through with surgery, celllulitis, chemo, blood thinners and boosters, a malfunctioning chemo port, fever infections and thrush, and radiation. Taking a daily cancer fighting medication starting on the 2nd will be the simplest part of my cancer treatment.
In the next few months, I will undergo periodic tests and scans to monitor treatment efficacy and to rule out other potential cancer concerns that were identified in a CT scan from last summer. I will also have periodic medical check-ups with various doctors throughout the next year and thereafter, to closely monitor my body for potential cancer recurrence. I am hopeful that in the next few months, I will be declared cancer free and in remission.
In reflecting on 2010, I am inclined to say it was a year that I would like to forget. Unfortunately, it will be one that I will remember for the rest of my life. As with all life-changing experiences, this last year dealt out good and bad moments. In the end, what I have been left with the gift of a second life.
On the eve of 2011, I am happy to start the New Year with a fresh start that does not include living in the world of aggressive cancer treatments. Tomorrow, I will renew my membership at the local Y. I am looking forward to developing a new daily exercise routine that includes rebuilding and strengthening my body to recover from the treatments, and to help prevent a cancer recurrence. In February, I will be able to return to the pool once my skin has healed.
More than anything, I look forward to returning to a “modified” new normal life once again. Spending more quality time with family and friends who have become more precious to me because of my cancer diagnosis will also be a priority.
To all those who have journeyed with me this past year, thank you for “being there”. May you be abundantly blessed with the gifts of love, life, health, friendship, and prosperity in 2011.
Next year is a new beginning for me. I will mark its beginning with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
There are countless Christmas gifts I have been given throughout this year that I can’t possibly wrap.
How can I wrap up my gratefulness for a second gift of life? How can I wrap up the gifts of family and friends who have been steadfast in their loving support of me during my 2010 cancer journey? Wrapping of these gifts are impossible tasks.
The only thing I can do is to be aware of the gifts of my renewed life and of the people in it. I don’t know where to begin to express my heartfelt thanks to all of the people in my life. No words can ever express my gratitude to those who have been on the cancer journey with me this past year.
I feel so small in comparison to the enormity of kindness that has surrounded me for so many months. To all of the people who have journeyed with me during this cancer diagnosis and treatment, a simple thank you just isn’t enough, but a million thank you-s can’t come close to the appreciation I feel.
The gifts of love and support from family and friends that I have received throughout this year could not be bought. They are greater than any Christmas present I could ever receive. The givers of these offered the gift of themselves freely to me. They are priceless and deeply cherished.
Christmas 2010 will be a very special one. It will be low on commercialism and high on time with family and friends. Love and joy will take on new meaning this Christmas. We will celebrate the season as it was meant to be, not with things, but with each other.
To all who have been there for me in body and spirit this year, I wish you a joyous and blessed Christmas filled with abundant love. My wish for you is that you treasure the people in your life, for they are priceless gifts.
Christmas this year gives me a whole new appreciation for living in the present. I will celebrate the gifts of those who give me Strength, Courage, and Determination.
I am so relieved that chemo is completed, and the most dangerous and toxic part of my treatment is behind me.
Daily radiation is now the last active part of my cancer treatments. As of this past Friday, I am half way through the 16 radiation treatments that will end on January 3.
In Manitoba, there are currently eight radiation treatment rooms for the entire province, with another radiation treatment facility opening in Brandon in the near future. Most appointments are scheduled at 15-minute intervals. Every room is busy each day treating patients of all ages from across the province.
In comparison to chemotherapy, radiation is much easier to tolerate. It is not at all what I expected it would be. Each day, I undergo two treatments of radiation that are administered on the affected side of my chest and underarm. Each treatment dosage lasts about 30-40 seconds. The radiation is painless and fast.
Medical staff has told me that I can expect to feel fatigue by the third week of treatment, which takes me to the Christmas and New Year’s holidays and ¾ through my treatment cycle. This is also when I may start to see some treatment side effects with my skin.
Staggering Numbers of Medical Caregivers
This second chance that I have been given for life has come because of a big circle of medical caregivers who have walked along side me since last March. All have been patient, kind, and encouraging in this cancer journey.
To date, there have been over 120 medically associated people who have played a role in treating me and cheering me on in the fight against cancer. The medical caregivers include 19 specialists and ER doctors, 37 hospital, chemo and oncology nurses, 35 x-ray and lab technicians, 13 Canadian Cancer Society volunteer drivers (for treatments), several treatment schedulers, six chemotherapy “coffee and cookie” volunteers, a social worker, a dietitian, an art therapist, and a yoga instructor.
The various treatments also have some staggering numbers. By January, there will have been 149 daily injections of blood thinners, 45 injections of blood boosters, 18 radiation treatments, 15 blood work tests, six chemotherapy sessions, surgery, and a central line port installation and removal. Add to this, an array of tests and scans including a mammogram, tissue biopsy, CT scan, Muga scan, MRI, and various x-rays. No part of my body has been left unexplored.
Walking in The World of Cancer
In all of these months I have walked in two worlds of cancer, one of hope and one of sadness. At 51, many times in chemo and radiation wards, I have been the youngest cancer patient as the majority of cancer patients I have been amongst are seniors.
In this journey, I was told that the radiation treatments would bring the world of cancer into a sad reality. It is true. I have come to realize that despite my cancer diagnosis, there are other lives with cancer which are much sadder.
There are so many images of cancer one sees as a patient.
Tuesdays and Thursdays are treatment days for children at the cancer facility. I have seen a worried young mother tenderly hold her bald, jaundiced infant (about 15-18 months old) following treatment, as they waited in the patient transportation lounge for their ride home.
Another child, a girl--perhaps about three years old, was carried over her father’s shoulder as they exited the facility after treatment. A big, strong man, the dad literally and figuratively was carrying the weight of cancer on his shoulders.
A pretty teenage girl, with a patch on her treated eye, was waiting for her ride home while texting on her cell phone with her good eye.
A young, 20 something, wigged female, fresh from chemotherapy treatments, was waiting for radiation at the same time as me. Totally oblivious to the number of people who have been rallying around her to make her well from cancer, she was seen a few minutes later smoking a cigarette outside the treatment facility.
Ongoing Treatments
On Tuesday, I will be grateful to be having my last daily blood thinner injection. I am looking forward to no longer contending with a swollen and welt-filled abdomen. Hopefully this will allow me a few more clothing choices. On Wednesday, I will have my troublesome chemo port removed. It will be a relief to no longer feel the port’s gentle tug on my jugular vein that I have lived with for the past six months. I no longer need sleeping pills, painkillers, and antacid medication as the potency of chemo and related side effects have left my body. Slowly, my body is “resetting” to its new normal.
The active treatment for my cancer will end in just over two weeks. There will be ongoing passive treatments that await me the next few months, along with regular appointments with my oncologist, surgeon, and family doctor. In early January, I will start taking daily hormone blocker medication to help prevent a cancer recurrence.
I am scheduled for another mammogram, and various follow up tests and scans post chemo and to further explore some medical concerns that were raised with my initial CT scan last July. There will be ongoing blood work, another CT scan, another MRI scan, a colonoscopy, an endoscopy, and a dental follow up, which will all take place early in the first part of the new year.
On the recommendation of my oncologist, I will also be pursuing genetic testing to see if I have inherited a breast cancer gene and am a carrier of it in my family. I have chosen to do so to benefit my mother, sister, and children. Fortunately, none of them have had cancer, but could be affected if my genetic testing indicates a family source for my cancer.
Each day, the weight of living with cancer is getting lighter as I journey to complete the last active phase of treatment. Each day, I make a pledge to continue to fight cancer with Strength, Courage, and Determination