Cancer Scares

There's this thing that happens once you've had cancer.  You become more aware of the little things.  Not just things like the chirping of birds, or the way rain smells.  Things like how different parts of your body feel.  What things generally look like.  You become very aware of things that are out of the ordinary, for you. 

In my case, when something seems a little not-quite-right, I hear Jeff Goldblum saying "Are...are we worrying?  I...I mean....is....is this....OK?

Every cancer survivor I've spoken to has had a scare.  At least one. 
The sinking "something's a little off" feeling is one thing.   It is easy enough to deal with - you talk to a medical professional and you get it sorted out, right?  Done and done. 

But it's not that easy for everyone.  You may think you are imaging things.  Or that you are perhaps over reacting.  Or that you have become a hypochondriac.  Or that you can't run to the doctor for every little thing; you really need to man-up.  Or that your family can't take the stress of having to deal with cancer again.  Or that you can't take the stress of having to deal with cancer again.

So you wait.  For a sign that it's definitely something.  Or definitely nothing.

And you feel like an idiot for waiting.  You feel bad about being scared.  You are supposed to be tough, right?  You beat this thing once, right?  So maybe you go see that medical professional. Or, maybe you wait some more.  It's the cat in the box again.  You are both fine and very much not fine until the test results are in.

So, why am I telling you all this?

Because I had a scare. 

I've had more than one so far, but this one was bad.  Waiting for the biopsy results was rough. 

And you know what?  It's not cancer.  It's serious, and there will be surgeries ahead (I've already had one), but I will deal with it.  Because it's not cancer. 

Now, I have a very, very dear friend who waited.  And it was cancer.  And her journey was not an easy one.  She's still here.  She's doing great.  The thought of what she went through got me to see a medical professional when I noticed something wrong.  That, plus I'd eventually have to tell her, either way, and she can (and will) kick my sorry butt. 

So, how do you know if cancer has come back?  How do you know if it's going to be OK? 

You don't. 
You have to pick up the phone.  You have to call your doctor.  You have to check. 

5 Reasons Mammograms Are Not Really Scary

Really.  They aren't.  Honest.

Getting a mammogram is not my favourite way to spend an afternoon, but it is way less invasive and/or uncomfortable than many other medical tests.

So why do so many people put them off?  Is it because mammography is scary?

Then in the name of naming and exposing the monster under the bed (Geoff, and really just made of balled-up unwashed socks) to make it less frightening, here is a short list to de-scare-ify mammograms. 

1. There is no prep for a mammogram.
None.  At all.  OK, so you don’t wear deodorant/antiperspirant before the test.  It gets the plates all gunky and can be hard to clean off.  But still, this isn’t a prep kind of thing.  You don’t have to drink anything gross.  You don’t have to fast.  You just show up.

2. It is not invasive.

Let’s face it, the majority of people getting mammograms are women.  Ladies, this is nowhere near as invasive as the way, way more common cancer screen – the PAP smear. 
Yep, you have to have your top off.  However, you will probably have a gown to cover you, or some little jacket thing, depending on the place doing your test.  This is nothing like trying to arrange 2-3 pieces of paper to cover yourself.

For the gentlemen out there who will require this test (yes, men get breast cancer too) while you will probably get looks from the women (well, some of them), I've been told it's it’s not as bad as a prostate exam or hernia check.  Not that I’ve ever had either.  This is what I’ve heard from a friend-of-a-friend who is a male breast cancer survivor.  He’s also a veteran, and a grandfather.

3. It doesn’t hurt.

Seriously.  Your breasts are pretty malleable.  The mammography machine (let’s call it….Betty) has two plates.  You kind of lean into Betty, and the plates compress your breast tissue.  Yes, Betty does  squish your breasts fairly flattish. I would say it is more discomfort than actual pain.

Now, if you are having a mammogram and find yourself thinking “Jade lied!  This hurts!  Betty is evil!”, tell your technician.  You will probably need to describe the pain (Stabbing/throbbing/burning etc.)  It might be that you can be repositioned. Or maybe not, but it only takes a second for the “picture”, so it won't last long.

4.  A mammogram doesn’t take a long time.

When I had my first one, I figured it would take the whole afternoon.  It took less time than I expected.  It would fit into a lunch hour.  Now, there are exceptions to this, of course.  The center I go to has two mammogram suites, and other rooms just for ultrasound, biopsy, and consultation.  If you have to have extra images taken for what ever reason (like having dense breasts), it can take a little bit longer.  

5. It’s not really the test that worries you, is it?

It’s the possibility of the bad result. 

There have been lots of theories floated about why people don’t get checked.  I subscribe to the "If I don’t know, then I’m fine" theory of denial.  It’s a little like a small child covering his eyes and thinking you can't see him.  It also doesn’t work. 

Getting a bad result (or a diagnosis of cancer) doesn’t mean that in the second a Doctor says the Big C Word you’ve received a zott of deadliness. 

Nope.

It has been there, lurking, undetected, for some time.  Kinda like The Silence. (For Dr. Who fans.  For everyone else, I’ll wait while you click this link.)  Every bit as creepy.  Every bit as malicious.

And the sooner you know, the more time you have to do something about it. 

But ignoring your own health? 

That's really scary.

Testing....testing....

So, you may have noticed I've not done any health related or cancer focused posts lately.  That's because it's testing season, again.  Eventually I'll get all my assorted appointments coordinated so I can get them done inside the same month or two, but right now there are tests run in the spring, and more in late summer/early fall.

No, we are not going to worry.  I get to do these every year.   It's part of the life of a survivor.  That doesn't make it fun.  I have tests and exams, and then I wait.

The waiting is the worst.  It makes me feel like cat in a physicist's thought experiment.  You know the one.*  Inside the box, I'm both fine and not fine, until someone checks and reports the result.


Meow?
 



*Schrödinger's cat,  this interpretation

Cute Culprit

Look at this guy:

Sweet, innocent little bunny-wunny, right?  A fluffy little bundle of Awwwwww?

Ha!  That's just what he wants you to think!

I was chopping some peppers for dinner the other night, and out of the corner of my eye, saw something brownish moving on the deck.  I startled it when I moved toward the door.  The soft brown thing bounded down the stairs and ducked around the yew tree.  I grabbed my camera, totally expecting to get absolutely nothing. 

Instead I found Mr. BigEyes here, pretending to be a bunny shaped statue near some clover.  Acting all innocent.  Like he knew nothing about the two (2!) Pea Knight plants that were now totally missing from the flower box on the deck.  Eaten all the way down!  GAH!

On the bright side, he doesn't like basil.  Or oregano.

(No, I don't know for sure if it's a boy bunny or a  girl bunny.)

Where did my mind go? Chemo Brain and the "Ooh-shiny's"

Chemo Brain.

Have you heard of it?  That awful loss of your mind that happens when you've had chemo.  Did you know that even cancer patients who've had surgery, but not chemo, get it?  Yep.

Sucks, doesn't it?

Some things aren't mentioned to patients (or the general public) about chemotherapy.  Or any cancer treatments, for that matter.

"Your short term memory will be affected."  This they tell you.
It kind of makes sense, because the chemo is killing the little grey cells.  But it happens to people who've had their cancer treated via just surgery as well.  That part doesn't get shared so much.

"You get distracted more easily."  Some patients are told this, some not.  Some researchers I worked with called it the "Ooooh shiny! Effect" or, the "Ooh-shiny's" for short.

What is it like?  Well, bloody annoying for the person who has it.  I'm sure some folks who work or live with the person don't enjoy it either.  Some of the survivors I've spoken to were afraid to even mention this to their care givers.  They were (almost unanimously) terrified it was a symptom of something else.  Like metastases to the brain.  Or some form of dementia. 

You are trying to have a conversation with someone about something, like a book you've been reading, and all of a sudden, something grabs your attention.  Something you only partially saw, maybe.  Out of the corner of your eye.

And WHAM!

Your train of thought has been completely derailed.
Poof!  Right in the middle of your sentence.

And it happens again and again.  You keep going off on a tangent.  Or you completely forgot what you were saying.  Or what the person you were talking to was saying.

Now, everyone has this at one time in their life.  But with someone who has been (or is being) treated for cancer, it happens a lot more.

Does it go away?
Yes.

When?
It depends.  (Do you hate that answer as much as I do?)

Most people see the effects gradually diminish following the end of chemo.  If you've never had chemo, but still got the Ooh-shiny's, things will (probably) be totally back to normal after 36 months.  If you had many rounds of chemo, it could take as long as 10 years.


Want to know more?
Check out the links below.

Memory Loss In Cancer Survivors Not Always Due To Chemotherapy 

Chemobrain Is Real but May Need New Name

Canadian Cancer Society - Changes in memory and concentration 

Central Neurotoxicity, Memory Loss, and Their Relationship to Chemotherapy

A simple, useful tool.

One of the most useful tools in your cancer-fighting arsenal can be obtained for as little as a dollar.

A notebook.

When someone has been diagnosed, they encounter a few things fairly often:  questions, information, worrying and waiting.  Yes, there are more than just those four.  But they do keep coming up.

A notebook can really help.

It gives you a place to record all the appointments you will have.

All the doctors and office numbers.  Who to call when in case of whatever. When you fill in forms, you will probably be asked for the name, phone number and address of your doctor.  And the fax number.  Possibly the email address.  When you are a cancer patient, you collect a lot of doctors and other medical professionals.  I recommend writing the contact info on one or two pages, right at the front of the notebook.  Along with what each one does.

You can write notes from meetings in the notebook.  You can write questions in it, so you have a better chance of remembering to ask them.  You have a place to put forms, pamphlets and business cards.  You may need to staple or glue them in, but still.  It saves rummaging for the things later, when you are trying to go someplace and really can’t spare the time.

One of the things that happen to the patient is an increase in stress levels.  This happens for their principal support person/care giver, too.  There is a hormone, called cortisol, that is IMHO, really annoying.  When you are stressed, you produce more of it.  It really isn’t your friend.  It packs weight on you, screws with your sleep patterns, and can make you forget stuff, and may even make you more likely to develop breast cancer. There are good descriptors at this link.  And of course here’s another paper that says stress makes cancer grow.

Lovely.  Does this help the patient?  Well, I suppose it does, but it also makes me think of the IT Crowd episode, in which the boss of the company declares war on stress.  And decrees that anyone who is stressed will be fired.  Because that’s going to help.

But forewarned is forearmed.  If there is something you can do to reduce your worry, why not try it? 

So, back to the notebook.

Write stuff down!  It may help!

If there is a change in your treatment, write it down.  If someone recommends you do something, but you want to check with your care team first, write it down. 

Your doctors will want to know your history.  Write it down.  When did you first notice symptoms?  When you’ve figured that out, write it down.  You can refer to it later. 

When did you have a test?  When will you get the result?  Do you call them or do they call you?  Write it down.

It doesn’t have to be fancy, or plain, or depressing.  I like a notebook with a flexible cover, but something with a cheerful or calming cover may be more your style.  Stick photos in it.  Drawings.  Things that make you feel happy. 

Or at least, less stressed.