Every single one of my New Years Resolutions have already been derailed, in the first six weeks of the year.
My resolutions weren’t anything revolutionary or out of the ordinary. Not even all that difficult really, with the exception of that 33 grams of fat thing (multiple sources recommending this as a means of preventing a cancer re-run). That one is REALLY difficult.
Exercise daily
Become skilled at yoga
Keep daily fat intake under 33 grams per day
Eat 7-9 servings of vegetables per day
Take at least one picture every day
Get my house organized, and keep it looking nice
So what’s going on? Why can’t I stay on track with these relatively simple and straightforward changes? Well, aside from the fact that I’m a full time student, and I have a toddler that climbs on me like a monkey all her waking hours, and I’m still recovering from 2nd degree radiation burns over half my torso, I’ve had a few writing gigs lately as well as some other opportunities to learn and gain experience doing exactly what I want to do for a living. Mama’s been a little busy. Maybe, for starters, I over-committed myself. Maybe I need to give myself a break.
So what to cut? Most of the items on the list above are recommended to prevent a recurrence; the house, well that just needs to get done. Obviously I can drop the picture a day idea, but that leaves 5 things – major changes for a 15-hours-a-day-on-the-computer-while-eating-junk-food type of girl like me. Bear in mind that the vast majority of the computer time is spent on school.
I read a wonderful article a few weeks ago about creating sustainable change in our everyday lives. I really wish I could remember where I read it; I would give the author some link love here. The article stated that in order to make a real and lasting change, we need to make one change at a time, make it really stick, before adding the next change. Over the course of the year, devoting 6 weeks or more to each individual change, we can create sustainable change in several areas with a much higher degree of success than the “I’m going to change everything all at once” approach.
Change is not something you do once and then get on with your life. It takes practice. You fall down and then you get back up again. Over and over and over and over again.
So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to decide to make a change, but I’m not going to change everything at once. I’m starting with the eating 7-9 servings of vegetables per day, and if I don’t hit my goal one day, I’ll keep trying the next day. Once I’ve built a practice of eating vegetables, I’ll add working out every day. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to exercise between now and when I start working on that resolution, it just means that the focus on habit building for that particular change will be delayed.
I’m still a bit overwhelmed by the amount of kitchen time eating that many vegetables will take. I’m now accepting applications for volunteer prep cooks if you’re interested in chopping vegetables.
A marriage takes a lot of work; so does keeping a day job (or going to school), maintaining a home, and raising children. When you have cancer, there are times when the fight for your life takes more work than all of the above combined.
Since my diagnosis, I have been reaching out to women with cancer, both in the real world and online. One of the things that has surprised me the most is the number of relationships that have dissolved post diagnosis. It’s not one or two, it’s a lot.
Cancer and Marriage
Cancer adds a lot of stress to a marriage.
Every story is different. In some cases it was the person with cancer who left; in others, it was the co-survivor (what we call the spouse or partner of the person with cancer). They are all wildly different stories, and come from people leading different lives: from all different parts of the world, rich, poor, educated, uneducated, religious, non-religious. It’s tempting to be judgmental, but only the people in that relationship truly know their story. Let’s not pass judgment.
I’ve only been married for 6 years. I’ve only been married once. I’m not a marriage counselor. I don’t profess to have any special knowledge that would help others prevent or reverse marriage trouble, but I’ve witnessed a few things, experienced a few things, and had a few thoughts.
National statistics tell us that roughly half of all marriages in this country end in divorce. Those statistics are silent on the issue of cancer. Every relationship has its issues, and cancer doesn’t make those issues go away. In fact, there are times when cancer amplifies them. Cancer has a way of amplifying everything.
The one thing that has helped me maintain my sanity and perspective throughout this cancer ordeal is membership in a support group. I belong to the Young Survival Coalition which provides support for young women with breast cancer.
Our discussions in group are confidential, but I can tell you that at times they deal with issues in our relationships. A phrase came out at one of the meetings, and we’ve all been loving it and using it since: “You don’t go to the hardware store to get bread.” That one little phrase has been of immense help to me.
I love my husband. He is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. But I don’t expect him to be my everything. I have other people in my life: my daughter, my family, my friends, my support group. They all fill different roles, and provide support in different ways. And when I don’t expect my husband to fill the role of one of my girl friends, we get along much better. One of my friends in the support group told me: “We’ll be your bakery.”
When I unload in the group about cancer (where it is expected and appropriate) instead of unloading on my husband, we get along much better. That’s not to say I don’t tell my husband everything. He pretty much hears it all, but it’s not all at once. It’s not a deluge of problems and issues that I dump in his lap the moment he walks in the door. It’s not a bitch and whine session. It’s not constant complaining. I’ve already gotten that out of my system – dumped on the support group that completely understands what I’m going through. I already got my bread, so when I tell my husband what’s going through my head, or through my body, I can say things without that whiny tone in my voice or unrealistic expectations.
Does this have anything at all to do with the relationships that broke up? Maybe. Maybe not. I have no idea. Every relationship is different. Every person is different. This is just what helped me. Having a support group helps me be a better partner in our relationship. Believe it or not, I think practicing jiu-jitsu helps my husband be a better partner in our relationship. I’m sure other people have completely different activities that help them approach their relationship with more patience, compassion, and understanding.
I wish love, patience, compassion, and understanding could make a marriage bulletproof.
A cancer diagnosis teaches you not to take things for granted: your life, your health, your breasts, your hair. I’m adding relationships to that list.
For a more encouraging look at marriage and cancer, read my post The Promise.
Today is 10/10/10 and I spent a good portion of it coloring.
With crayons.
In a coloring book.
It surprised me how much I enjoy coloring.
It is so calming to spend a few minutes moving a crayon across the paper. I especially love coloring books; I don’t even have to think of what to draw, I just relax and turn off my brain for a few minutes. And I’m so happy afterward.
I really need to do this more often.
What brings you joy?
P.S. I still think that white crayon is mostly useless.
Ever wondered what a day of chemotherapy was like for a cancer patient? I thought I’d bring you along today, and give you a snapshot of what cancer treatment looks like. I hope its helpful to the newly diagnosed. Obvious disclaimer: of course, every patient’s treatment is different, and each cancer treatment center is different.
6:00 AM
Alarm goes off. I’m supposed to get up and take my pills. I’m on a new type of chemo that requires me to take a pill 12 hours, 6 hours, and 1 hour before the chemo infusion starts (the first pill was taken care of last night). I hit the snooze button.
Again.
And again.
And again.
7:00 AM
Actually get out of bed and take the pill. Oops. Time to get the baby and myself ready to go.
7:45 AM
Mom shows up to take us in for treatment. She even packed me a lunch for my long day. Thanks Mom.
8:15 AM
I arrive at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. Mom takes the baby with her for the day. Check in for Port Access. (Instead of having an IV put in every time I go in, I have a port that is installed under the skin near my left collarbone. I know a lot of people hate having the port, but I love it. It’s so much nicer than the IVs and for some reason, getting an IV going on me is really difficult.) After the port access is installed I go around for the rest of the day with these tubes dangling from my chest.
Break into moms lunch while I’m waiting.
9:30 AM
Blood draw for MUGA scan (Multi Gated Acquisition Scan). They take my blood, make it radioactive, and later they will return it to me, then they can track the blood as it makes its way through my heart to determine it’s efficiency. Several of the agents in my chemo are known to cause some heart damage to a small percentage of patients. This scan is scheduled periodically to determine how well my heart is handling the chemo, and whether we need to make any adjustments. This isn’t part of my normal chemo routine.
waiting . . .
waiting . . .
waiting . . .
10:05 AM
The machine that does the MUGA scan is a long narrow bed (generous term) with an arm holding a 2″x2″ tablet that looks something like a small film holder for an x-ray machine. When I lay down, the radiologist attached leads and wires to my abdomen and chest, then another tech came in and they both verified that the blood they are giving back to me, now radioactive, actually belongs to me. The the treated blood goes back in through the port. Then she covered me up with a warmed blanket, they have blanket warmers all over the place here and they are really good about making sure you don’t catch a chill. After covering me up, she help up a wide vinyl loop to stick my arms through so I could relax them and wouldn’t have to hold them in the air at my side throughout the test. Seriously, when I say a long narrow bed, I mean maybe a foot and a half wide, not enough room to rest your arms at your side. The radiologist positions the tablet just above, but not touching, my chest. Then it’s a matter of just laying still for a long time, repositioning the tablet to get another angle, repeat… you get the picture. No pain, just boring laying there and trying not to move – plus I had a bit of a cough, and it was really frustrating trying not to cough.
10:50
Stop by the pharmacy to pick up a prescription – to be honest, it’s a refill of the pills I’m supposed to take 1 hour before chemo because I forgot them at home. I’m really on a roll today. I’m blaming it on chemo brain.
11:00 AM
Take the pills and meet with my Oncologist’s nurse, Martha. I usually meet with either the nurse or the doctor before each infusion. We discuss my symptoms and any questions I might have. I confess I took my pill late this morning, she said it’s no problem at all, I just needed to get the pill in the general time frame. She also said that my blood counts are awesome (yay me!), and my heart is operating well within normal parameters. That’s what I like to hear.
11:30 AM
Check in for my chemo infusion. They give me a pager like the kind you get at restaurants while you’re waiting for a table.
11:50 AM
Pager goes off and I head back to my chemo room (Bay 39 this time) and get settled in. I follow my nurse around, so the bay I’m in depends on the section she’s working in. Joy is so awesome I’d happily sit on a speed bump in the parking lot if that’s what it took to have her do my infusions. Joy orders my meds and then we compare notes on our babies while we wait for the meds to show up (ok, not the whole time, she did check on her other patients).
12:30 PM
Start Herceptin infusion through the port.
Today’s lineup:
12:45 PM
The husband finally arrives. Yay! He tries to be here with me for most of this stuff, but he had a critical class this morning, and I really prefer that he not miss his classes.
2:20 PM
Benadryl and Zantac, pill form. Zofran pushed into the line in the port by hand. These are premeds to help prevent nausea and help prevent an allergic reaction. Now we are getting ready start the real chemo: Taxol. Another nurse came in to verify that the meds and the patient both match the Doctor’s orders. They don’t do this for every single medication, just the really big guns. The nurse also puts on a plastic apron, with full length sleeves and wrist cuffs, before handling these really harsh meds.
2:50 PM
Sent The Husband to procure treats from the Infusion Unit kitchen: specifically mac’n’cheese, and chocolate ice cream. Please no lectures on health food, it’s chemo day.
nearly 3:00 PM
The Husband returned with the ice cream and tortellini with pesto, they were out of the mac’n’cheese. Totally appropriate substitution.
play around online for several hours . . .
6:45 PM
Zoladex: this is a little pellet that is inserted into my abdomen with a needle. The lidocaine shot they give me before hand hurts more than this shot. Then the port is removed and I get a little bandage, and we head out of the building where mom and the baby have arrived to give us a ride home.
Symptoms: The first evening of chemo I usually feel great. The meds they have been giving me to combat nausea are awesome, almost no nausea at all. The biggest side effect for me has been fatigue. It’s just really hard to stay awake sometimes, or to get off the couch at any time. It sounds counter-intuitive, but exercise does help with fatigue. Generally the symptoms accumulate through the course of the week. Tuesday is more foggy than Monday: Thursday and Friday I’m much more exhausted than Wednesday. It’s interesting that there is such a long (several days) delay between getting the chemo and when the symptoms hit their peak. I’m curious to see how my symptoms will change with the Taxol. Many people I’ve met say the Taxol was easier for them to tolerate than the AC I was on before, although there were a few that had a more difficult time. I’ll report back next week with an update.
And for those of you who have been anxious to see a picture of my bald head:
If you have any questions about cancer, treatment, symptoms, side effects, or how I’m dealing with it all, please feel free to ask in the comments. I’m happy to answer questions.
And if there is anyone out there who has just been diagnosed with cancer, I hope this post will be helpful for you. Hang in there. Bear in mind that every treatment plan is different, and everyone experiences and tolerates their treatment different. I found that most of the worst case scenarios my imagination conjured up were much worse than the reality when I finally faced it. I hope the same is true for you. Best Wishes.
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