Processing Your Cancer Diagnosis
I am going on four years in remission, so this is a little backwards. But I wanted to start this blog on a positive note with hope and inspiration. I guess it’s not a spoiler alert that I made it, but it was a long, arduous haul, and there is plenty in between. First, I want to say, don’t panic. As I look back on all of this, I realize how surreal it all seemed at the time. And I did panic. I was frozen with fear, but as things started to play out, it became automatic, one foot in front of the other. I was anxious to get the ball rolling, as all I could imagine was getting the cancer out of me. All I could think of was the tumor growing in my breast with its tentacles reaching for my lymph nodes. I wanted things to move quickly, and they do. You have to have all kinds of tests and other preparations, like getting your MRIs, CT scans, making sure your heart is ok, and getting your port installed so they can administer the chemo. You feel like a lab rat after a while.
The most important advice I can impart is not to panic. Do not let your imagination run away with you. My oldest and dearest childhood friend was so upset by the news that she sent me all kinds of sweet gifts to comfort and support me. Her empathy and concern mattered most to me, and memories of our lives together would sustain me in dark times ahead. She also sent me a book that a woman wrote about her cancer journey, and it scared the bejesus out of me. She talked of her fear of the chemo she was going to need. Once I got to the part where she started her regimen of Adriamycin, which they call the red devil, I was completely terrified. Don’t read stuff like that before you go through treatment. You can read after and compare.
There are no words of comfort that I can give to someone about to go through treatment, except that it doesn’t last forever. You have to keep your eye on the prize: eliminating your cancer. Your treatment is just part of the process. And you can’t assume that your cancer journey will be like anyone else’s. Everyone’s cancer journey is unique. As an example, the red devil chemo did not make me as sick as the Taxol, which is another type of chemo paired with AC chemo given to breast cancer patients. I scared myself reading that book before talking to my doctor or having any treatments. And the side effects are listed, page after page, because they have to. It does not mean you will have any, or that you could have some, but it is improbable you will have most of them.
The oncology nurses are angels. Let them help you, and don’t be afraid to ask. They are kind and empathetic. They have tips for managing side effects and other issues that you might have. For instance, I got Bell’s Palsy during my second round of Taxol chemo. Adding insult to injury, half my face was paralyzed. So now I’m bald, but my face looks like it is melting. The nurses told me to take vitamin B, which helped with the Bell’s Palsy. This brings me to the most important part: having a support network of friends and family. It is a good idea to have someone to go to doctor’s appointments as a second ear. You might want help shopping or cooking. And in my case, having Karen around at just the right moment to make me laugh despite my baldness and melting face will make all the difference. It is a cliche, but you got this.