tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-272491702024-03-07T18:33:49.290-08:00At least it's a "good" cancerJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-33515636580301671522012-02-01T20:46:00.000-08:002012-02-01T20:46:28.357-08:00Please respond to cancer coping survey!!If you currently have breast cancer, or if you had it in the past, a student at USC would love to have you respond to an online survey regarding your experiences and coping style. This student is a senior conducting an honors thesis, and in the future she hopes to become a medical oncologist. Though she has already done research in a pathology lab on HER-2 treatments, this project is for her sociology major (she also double-majors in biology).<br />
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Please help this student and science. Her study is at <a href="https://usccollege.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_72i5E5bhK3Fgdx2">https://usccollege.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_72i5E5bhK3Fgdx2</a><br />
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Thanks!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-42363646677670322122012-02-01T13:38:00.000-08:002012-02-01T13:38:03.076-08:00I'm done with KomenNo more Komen walks, Komen donations, or Komen-related advocacy for me.<br />
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You may love or hate Planned Parenthood, but we can all agree that breast cancer screening and services are good, right? That's the PP program whose Komen funding was halted.<br />
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Ideology doesn't help women with breast cancer. Science, research, screening, treatment, and <i>funding</i> help women with breast cancer. And there are lots of other advocacy groups that I can support instead.<br />
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<a href="http://www.salon.com/2012/02/01/komen_for_the_cure_sells_out_women_again/">http://www.salon.com/2012/02/01/komen_for_the_cure_sells_out_women_again/</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/01/us/cancer-group-halts-financing-to-planned-parenthood.html?hpw">http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/01/us/cancer-group-halts-financing-to-planned-parenthood.html?hpw</a>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-87290260034230778852011-02-22T19:40:00.000-08:002011-02-22T19:40:04.685-08:00Blaming Big MedicineCancer is a frustrating, awful experience. In a world in which we all strive to be safe (airbags? antilock brakes? deadbolt locks?) and in control (calendars, schedules, savings accounts), cancer shows up and strips us bare. There will be no certainty, it says. You will not be in charge of this process. The course of the disease cannot be predicted--it's impossible even to say that one person's response to Taxol will be the same as another's. My aunt was diagnosed with multiple myeloma and given less than two years to live; thirteen years later, she died having outlasted every treatment the medical team could devise.<br />
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So perhaps it's no wonder that so many people seem to channel their fears and frustrations into fury--at the doctors, the drug companies, and the researchers who are trying frantically to come up with new and better weapons in the fight against cancer. A couple of weeks ago, I noted with interest the New York Times <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/09/health/research/09breast.html?_r=1&smid=fb-nytimes">story about lymph node treatment</a>. In short, researchers have found that about 20% of women with breast cancer--in particular, those at stage T1 or T2, with evidence of metastasis to the nodes but not palpable enlargements, and whose treatment includes lumpectomy with radiation and possibly chemotherapy--do not need to have further surgery to remove lymph nodes. This lymph node surgery is invasive and risky--my anecdotal impression is that many women who have undergone the extensive surgery end up with complications such as lymphedema. I was lucky that my cancer had not spread to my lymph nodes, but if it had, it would be a huge relief to know that my survival and risk of recurrence would not depend on having my armpit scraped clean.<br />
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So, an informative article about an interesting new development. But the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/posted.php?id=5281959998&start=5#%21/nytimes/posts/110656389009586">comments</a> to the article really drew my eye. I found them--let's say, <i>less than rational</i>. I'd like to highlight some of them here, with my responses.<br />
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<blockquote><i><span data-jsid="text">hey geniuses, what about the other 80%? and what does that tell you? you can make statistics say whatever the hell you want them to.</span></i></blockquote><span data-jsid="text"> Well, the other 80% don't get the luxury of skipping lymph node surgery. But that does not make the findings suspect, nor does it indicate "lying with statistics." Breast cancer research is moving in the direction of more individualized treatment--approaches customized to the individual person and her disease profile. So, it's not a failure to find a treatment applicable to 20%. It's progress for 1/5 of all patients. And we have to keep working for the rest.</span><br />
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<blockquote><i><span data-jsid="text">I wish to hell medicine would make up its freakin' mind about all this. My theory is no one knows anything about anything! It's all guess work.</span></i></blockquote><br />
<span data-jsid="text">Not necessarily. Science moves forward, but in small steps. Plus, studies can conflict. Scientists look at all of the existing knowledge, and weigh study results against the real risks and opportunities for patients, and all of this informs their recommendations. Changing recommendations reflects <i>progress</i>, not guesswork.</span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text">And, finally--</span><br />
<blockquote><i><span data-jsid="text">the other 80% end up like my mother in law: dead within five years of a metastatic diagnosis because nodes were not removed and tested when the inital [</span></i><span data-jsid="text">sic</span><i><span data-jsid="text">] tumor removal occured.</span></i></blockquote><br />
<span data-jsid="text">First of all, this is very sad and my heart goes out to the commenter and her mother-in-law. At the same time, the comment implies (well, states flat out) that the death occurred <i>because</i> nodes were not removed or tested. Cancer is a complex, nasty, and often unpredictable disease. Many women whose nodes <i>are</i> removed, tested, or treated still die, tragically. A cancer death cannot be reduced to this one variable. It's tempting to look back at what wasn't done, what might have been--but even hindsight can't tell us how to save someone. </span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text">In short: faced with the dangers and uncertainties of cancer, it's natural to look around for someone to blame, and for a tangible target for our anger. But lashing out at the research studies and scientists on whom we rely for better treatments and longer lives--that seems misguided. Let's all be mad as hell at cancer. But let's support cancer research, be intelligent consumers of research, and figure out how to make the research help us live longer. </span><span data-jsid="text"></span><br />
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</span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-23338016815956727282010-12-14T10:54:00.001-08:002010-12-14T10:54:32.929-08:00What's really important at Christmastime<a href="http://www.salon.com/life/feature/2010/12/14/christmas_cancer/index.html">This is so beautifully said</a>. It's a short piece by a Salon writer whose mother has terminal lung cancer, talking about the nature of love (versus commerce) and how Christmas brings out the sweet and the sorrowful. Brought tears to my eyes, and a profound recognition of truth.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-66341562500853790072010-12-09T12:29:00.000-08:002010-12-09T12:29:15.763-08:00Choosing to end treatmentI could not agree more with <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2010/OPINION/12/09/brown.palliative.care.edwards/index.html?hpt=C2">this story</a> at CNN. I've been sad to hear about Elizabeth Edwards' death, but I am happy that she met it on her own terms.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-38695118579559353892010-12-04T22:29:00.000-08:002010-12-04T22:29:13.954-08:00Fruits & veggies: No good?<a href="http://www.nature.com/bjc/journal/vaop/ncurrent/full/6606032a.html">This new study</a> was highlighted in yesterday's LA Times. Apparently a review of extant research (NOT a meta-analysis--an important distinction) has found little to no effect of the kind of high-vegetable-content, low-meat-content diet that I and many other cancer survivors try to follow. In particular, the article says that the low-fat, high-fiber, high-veggie diet may not do much good.<br />
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Although I find this disappointing and a little discouraging, it probably won't dissuade me from seeing the low-fat, high-fiber, high-veggie diet as ideal for preventing recurrence. a) It tends to keep weight lower, and weight is a demonstrated risk factor; b) It tends to emphasize foods closer to nature and thus less processed and with fewer chemical additives. Though we don't yet know the role of such chemicals in cancer risk, it seems like avoiding them may lessen the chance of some kind of harmful exposure; c) Even without supporting data, the logic behind the diet makes sense to me, and the corollary benefits to cardiovascular function and organ health make me feel like it could increase overall health and thus leave me less vulnerable to cancer risk. Ultimately, it seems unlikely to cause HARM, so why not keep it up? (Of course, I write this after having guacamole, tamales, and refried beans for dinner--so maybe it's not "keep it up" so much as "start it up again"...!)Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-8200321639753379892010-10-25T12:15:00.000-07:002010-10-25T12:15:21.648-07:00Awareness is great; how about some progress?<div>The LA Times today has a nice piece addressing women's fear of developing breast cancer, the advances in treatment that have occurred over the past 30 years, and the distance we still have to go.</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.latimesmagazine.com/2010/10/body-of-knowledge-full-frontal-assault.html">Body of Knowledge Full-Frontal Assault - LA Times Magazine</a>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-50668179436657644972010-08-06T21:29:00.000-07:002010-08-06T21:31:48.805-07:00What to do when diagnosedNo time for me to comment, but I just re-found a very useful CNN article on <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/conditions/05/21/ep.cancer.resources/index.html">what to do when you're diagnosed with cancer</a>. Brief and to the point.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-24305632289834909212010-08-04T21:12:00.000-07:002010-08-04T21:30:12.117-07:00The new dangers of fructoseYesterday, I read an <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/08/03/cancer-cells-gobble-up-fr_n_668536.html">article</a> on Reuters about a study showing that some cancers (particularly pancreatic) "feed" on fructose, growing faster when given more of it. Because eating less sugar is recommended for cancer (and cancer recurrence) prevention, this was not too surprising. However, the article distinguished between <i>fructose</i>--problematic--and <i>glucose</i>--less so. Of course, high-fructose corn syrup was mentioned: because it so permeates industrial food production, could it be accelerating cancers?<div><br /></div><div>Today, salon.com has <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/francis_lam/2010/08/04/fructose_cancer_high_fructose_corn_syrup/index.html">a terrific piece</a> examining the issue. My favorite part: the Marion Nestle quote comparing sugar content in various sweeteners:</div><blockquote> [Both corn syrup and] table sugar ... are about 50% fructose and are about equal in their effects. So is honey. Agave has even more. </blockquote><br /><br />Again, it's all about perspective. Let's eat less sugar--we'll be healthier. But I'm seeing several media outlets jumping on the "corn syrup is evil" bandwagon, and really--not helpful, guys.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-91116021630220397412010-07-30T23:05:00.000-07:002010-07-30T23:26:52.669-07:00_________ gave me cancerI've heard plenty of theories--many quite nutty--about what causes breast cancer. Obviously, we don't really know. For some reason, the incidence is much higher among women in my demographic--upper middle class, no pregnancies, history of birth control use, and whatever other lurking dangers are created by a privileged, professional lifestyle. I may not have lived in <a href="http://www.ourstolenfuture.org/commentary/News/2002/2002-1023-WashPost-CAbreastcancer.htm">Marin County</a>, but I seem like a model Marin case. <div><br /></div><div>I've also heard many other possible causes (see a list <a href="http://www.cancer.org/Cancer/BreastCancer/DetailedGuide/breast-cancer-risk-factors">here</a>), including:</div><div><ul><li>underwire bras</li><li>antiperspirants</li><li>heating food in plastic containers</li><li>plastic containers in general (BPAs)</li><li>drinking too much alcohol</li><li>not drinking enough alcohol</li><li>working the night shift</li><li>and now--<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-douglas-fields/left-sided-cancer--should_b_629572.html">sleeping on a mattress</a>.</li></ul><div>That's right; sleeping on a mattress. Sigh.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>I actually try not to heat food in plastic containers anymore, or to use BPA-carrying plastics. I avoid parabens (though I just discovered that they're in my new Philosophy moisturizer, so once that runs out, no more Philosophy). I try to drink no more than three drinks a week. I work on getting enough cinnamon, turmeric, green tea, vitamin D, and omega 3s. I even just completed an 11-day "cleanse" to try to detoxify my system (Isagenix, if you want to know).</div><div><br /></div><div>Really, we don't know where the f&#% this disease comes from, but we clearly live in a world swimming in toxins and contaminants, and I'm all for trying to find new ways to improve prevention and resistance. But COME ON, PEOPLE. Enough with the snake oil!</div><div><br /></div><div>Or am I just one of the lucky ones, because my cancer was on the right?</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-86901939836600074072010-07-23T11:54:00.000-07:002010-07-23T12:03:51.876-07:00New research on chemicals and breast cancerIt was sure a sexy headline: "<a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/green/detail?entry_id=68555&tsp=1">Cleaning products linked to breast cancer</a>." Imagine all the late-night jokes about that one ("Honey, I won't be cleaning anymore!")--well, maybe if late-night comics were women. <div><br /></div><div>When I read the article, I was dumbfounded. The research sounded like a joke. It's a self-report survey in which women say how much chemical exposure they've had, and that is compared between women with and without a history of breast cancer. It sounded extremely weak.</div><div><br /></div><div>But with the Shirley Sherrod debacle fresh in mind, I decided not to stop there. I clicked the link ("<a href="http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/07/100719205630.htm">suggests</a>") to get to the Science Daily description of the study, somewhat more in depth. It said that the study comes from an open-access journal called Environmental Health. Well, that's not great because it suggests that the study wasn't strong enough to be published in a regular, peer-reviewed, restricted access journal.</div><div><br /></div><div>But OK. I then went to the study itself. <a href="http://www.ehjournal.net/content/pdf/1476-069x-9-40.pdf">Here it is</a>. And it's not really too bad, as preliminary evidence goes. I won't be throwing out all the cleaning products in the house, but this is enough of a signal that other researchers should now do some deeper digging.</div><div><br /></div><div>What I really want to say, though, is this: It is so important to evaluate the quality of the science behind any of these findings. There is breast cancer news every single day: eat this, don't eat that, Avastin doesn't work, don't clean your house. (OK, that last is a stretch.) Some of these findings are coming out of really important and rigorous research. Some are absolutely bogus and should not be listened to. And then there's the substantial middle, in which this study resides, where there are suggestive findings but so much potential for fear-mongering or knee-jerk reactions. Take a deep breath and <i>read the study</i>. Check it out. Don't take the news article's word for it.</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-85733264512106450452010-07-22T12:10:00.000-07:002010-07-22T12:18:25.916-07:00InsomniaThe Huffington Post--whose living section I often find suspect, filled as it is with pretty quack-y medical articles (let me just say, I think Suzanne Somers' approach to cancer prevention is a giant duck)--has a <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-michael-j-breus/relief-for-cancer-patient_b_633690.html">GOOD article</a> today on cancer and insomnia. <div><br /></div><div>When I was going through chemo, my acupuncturist would ask me, at every appointment, how I was sleeping. Disrupted sleep is a common correlate of chemo, at least in part due to hormonal disruptions mimicking menopause (or, inducing menopause in many cases). </div><div><br /></div><div>Further, I've found that my sleep post-cancer-treatment is much less reliable than it was before. I have times when it's hard to fall asleep or hard to stay asleep. The study described in the article seems like a valuable step in helping deal with this problem.</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-844986094885952942010-07-06T19:34:00.000-07:002010-07-06T19:34:08.459-07:00Telling someone they have the big C<div>Today's LA Times has an interesting blog post giving results of a survey on how people were told that they had cancer. The phone-message-on-Valentines-Day example seems, um, not great.</div><div><br /></div><div>My own experience was probably on the "most positive" end of the continuum. I went in for a formal follow-up appointment and got the news from the surgeon, who spent roughly an hour with me (and Noah), drawing pictures and discussing the treatment and answering all the questions that could surface from the depths of our confused, overwhelmed brains. He (the surgeon) also emphasized the word "cure" repeatedly, and his tone was so confident and positive that I never felt--at that time--like "I might die," just like (as I told Noah) "my life [was] going to SUCK for the next year." </div><div><br /></div><div>The only bad part of the news-delivery process, for me, was that the surgeon and the rest of the oncology staff were angry with my primary-care physician for not taking responsibility for that process himself. And they let their anger be known, just a bit. So I knew that there was some buck-passing, and maybe I could have done without that. Overall, though, I'd give Norris Cancer Center an A in this area.</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/booster_shots/2010/07/cancer-diagnosis-doctors-.html">How doctors deliver the news: It's cancer</a>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-35645138297782177742010-06-29T21:33:00.000-07:002010-06-29T21:33:43.587-07:00Unfinished business: How one man keeps his late wife’s memory alive - thestar.com<div>What a touching story. For me, it's not so much that this guy is trying to keep his wife's memory alive, but rather the fact that her life (and death) inspired him to do so much with his own. He may be living in tribute to her, but he is emphatically <i>living</i>--what a wonderful gift she left him! The list seems pretty fun and interesting, too. I wonder what PhD he'll get.</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.thestar.com/living/article/829909--unfinished-business-how-one-man-keeps-his-late-wife-s-memory-alive?bn=1">Unfinished business: How one man keeps his late wife’s memory alive - thestar.com</a>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-40578080124669052732010-04-04T17:04:00.001-07:002010-04-04T17:11:21.915-07:00What would I do?Another great cancer-oriented article from the NY Times today. This one tells <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/04/health/04doctor.html?src=me&ref=general">the story</a> of a woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer at 31, was successfully treated, completed her medical degree and entered the field of palliative care, and then had a recurrence and severe metastasis of her cancer. She found herself resisting the same palliative approach she'd been advocating, and fought hard--there's no other phrase for it--until it killed her at 41. Ten years, end to end. She was not ready to give up and not ready to die--at 41, who would be? At 50 or 60, who is, really? In any case, it's yet another poignant and thoughtful piece from the Times, which seems to have a whole "cancer beat" alongside politics and world affairs. <div><br /></div><div>Things are good with me. I passed the 4-year mark with clear bloodwork, mammogram, and physical exam. I have fully regained my strength and my life, and to a large extent I have recovered a sense of confidence that my life will continue for the foreseeable future--or, at least, not be cut short by cancer. Who knows, but the gnawing fear subsides a bit, and it becomes easier to live both for today and toward a future, and that's a nice thing. Of course, as the article illustrates, neither the future nor one's attitude toward it is very predictable.</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-28304570183930468472009-10-25T13:37:00.000-07:002009-10-25T13:41:12.051-07:00"It feels sometimes like the entire world has cancer"The NY Times today has a terrific <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/25/health/research/25anderson.html?hpw=&pagewanted=all">profile of M.D. Anderson</a>, the cancer hospital in Houston, TX. This is where my aunt Sylvia was treated for years--they helped her to become one of the longest-surviving multiple myeloma patients they'd seen--until she was too sick to make the drive from San Antonio on a regular basis. This article is also incredibly sad, and it's a bit scary for me to read about the nurse who beat breast cancer only to see it recur as metastatic disease 9 years later. Next year will be 4 years for me, and I take none of them for granted.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-48339627960191344262009-08-07T15:52:00.000-07:002009-08-07T16:01:23.398-07:00Quick linkIt's been forever since I've posted, I know. I have a long, long post weaving itself in my head, and sometime soon I'll actually write it down and post it. I'm still here, still doing well, no recurrence (knock wood! next checkup soon) and getting on with my post-cancer life. <div><br /></div><div>But I just had to post this today. I saw a reference to it in the letters section of the NY Times. Many news media this week covered a story about cancer patients' not participating in research studies, and how that contributes to a slow pace in treatment discoveries and advances. There's been some good discussion of why this happens, but one letter-writer pointed out that a major impediment to participating in clinical trials is that they may be geographically distant from the patient, and it can be expensive and risky to travel to them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I had never before today realized that there's a group that arranges free flights on corporate jets for patients undergoing cancer treatment. It's called Corporate Angel Network, and its website is <a href="http://www.corpangelnetwork.org/">here</a>. Of all the great "free" things I've heard of for cancer patients, this one makes me the happiest. I hope the cancer-blogging network can get the word around comprehensively, so that travel distance doesn't have to slow down advances in cancer treatment!</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-18677136554514987812009-03-17T12:28:00.001-07:002009-03-17T12:33:00.081-07:00A sad, sad storyI've linked before to columns by Dr. Amy Tuteur, who blogs at <a href="http://www.salon.com">salon.com</a>. Today, salon has front-paged <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/amytuteurmd/2009/03/16/we_lied_and_the_patient_died">an excellent piece</a> of hers, in which she describes a devastating experience from her medical internship, when she did not speak up against an oncologist who recommended chemo to a clearly-terminal patient.<br /><br />I'm sure that many of us who have, or have had, cancer can relate to the oncologist's desire to pursue any chance of recovery, no matter how remote. But many of us who have had chemo can also relate to the patient's conviction that the end of life should not be a time of over-medicalization, but rather of sitting on a beach somewhere and saying goodbye peacefully (even if, still, painfully) to a lovely world.<br /><br />The article is food for thought. It is very easy to be swayed by the signals we get from our doctors. One doctor who offers a strong opinion can change the entire rest of our lives--and they are not always right. To me, the moral of the story is: <span style="font-style: italic;">independent second opinions</span>!!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-4008246289681269132009-02-20T13:53:00.000-08:002009-02-20T14:19:31.473-08:00Three years, all clear!Three years ago today, I'm pretty sure I was skiing at Copper Mountain in Colorado. Three years minus 7 days ago today, I was standing in the shower saying "Oh, shit" as I felt a subcutaneous golf ball on my right breast.<br /><br />Today, I drove 26 miles north to Norris Cancer Center. I had my blood drawn by my favorite "stick," Dean (he said my arm-crook veins are hardened by the chemo, and he took the blood from a vein that crosses the back of my thumb--but he got it painlessly, and on the first try). I waited for a long time in the mammogram waiting area, with about a dozen other women, some with the short crew-cutty hair that marked them as recently completing treatment; some looking frightened, with husbands' hands clutched in theirs; others playing it cool, telling anyone who starts the briefest conversation that they're "just there for my yearly!" I wore my new t-shirt: "I already kicked Cancer's ass. Wanna be next?"; only one nurse commented on it (positively), but it garnered a lot of furtive looks. I wondered if the "ass" was shocking people, or if I looked too young and healthy to be a cancer survivor (I like that one!), or if maybe they secretly liked it.<br /><br />Anyway, I was called late for my mammogram, by a cute little radiographer who did a fine job of mushing, smashing, and subjecting me to excruciating pain. I also think mammograms must have been invented, by the way, by someone with no concern for breast perkiness. Those underside ligaments must age about 6 years with each image.<br /><br />All was going fine; she went off to consult the radiologist and I relaxed with my iPhone to wait to go see the doctor. But then she came back and said that the radiologist wanted "a few more views," to look at something she wasn't happy about. I barely blinked; we've been keeping a close eye on the left side (the one not previously involved) because it's fibrous and sometimes achy.<br /><br />But they didn't want to look at the left. They wanted to look at the right.<br /><br />And for the next 5 minutes or so, I experienced real terror. I've already had surgery and radiation on the right. If there were a new tumor there, the whole thing would have to go. And I've sat through enough support group meetings to know there are worst things than losing a breast, and there is life after a mastectomy, and reconstructed boobies actually look pretty real and cute--but still. While she mashed me into new, contorted positions, and used a compression plate whose effect was like having a stiletto heel pierce a nipple, I just kept thinking, "I don't want to lose it after all of this." It's funny; I didn't even think about chemo or radiation or months of illness. I've thought about that before, but even my nightmares of getting cancer again--somehow they just never involve it happening on the same side.<br /><br />It was super scary, but when the tech went back to consult again, she returned saying that it was all clear, that the extra mashing had given a better view and I was fine. I couldn't quite relax and believe it until I saw Christy, my oncologist, but her exam and the bloodwork and the images were all telling one happy story, she said, and finally I did believe.<br /><br />Still, not until I was driving away did I get the moment of full realization that I've now reached the third year of survivorship. With my cancer profile, this is really huge. Two years was huge, but three years is huger. My risk curve drops off precipitously at two and then three years. Not like I'm ever "home free," but at this point I can really relax much more about the prospect of recurrence.<br /><br />In the car, I felt the grin spread across my face like someone was stretching it with their fingers--and it stayed there until the third time a slow driver cut me off in the left lane. Then I was back to reality, which is what life is, after all, and I must say I'm pretty glad to be here.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-46538163537227673082009-02-10T19:09:00.000-08:002009-02-10T19:10:58.756-08:00Cool study!An enzyme that blocks breast cancer? -- <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20090209/sc_nm/us_cancer_breast;_ylt=AruWu.U4lDUo2NW3VU4csAUDW7oF">see here</a>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-8625104821247299812009-02-09T10:59:00.001-08:002009-02-09T11:09:34.066-08:00BirthdaysI caught myself in some insanity this week.<br /><br />Friday was my 42nd birthday. Around Friday, you could have found me gazing into a mirror, looking at the lines and wrinkles around my eyes and mouth that weren't there before chemo. You could, if you could see into my mind, have watched swirling thoughts of sadness and loss about getting older, losing skin elasticity...and resentment toward cancer, for how its treatment has hastened and deepened my "inevitable decline."<br /><br />I'm not sure how this craziness took hold of me, but when I went out to the beach yesterday, on a tenuously lovely day sandwiched between days of rain, and ran and hit a ball and enjoyed playful banter with friends, the world righted. I remembered that I don't mind aging at all. I am thrilled to be aging, thrilled to be getting older. I'm especially thrilled to age, for as long as I can, in a strong and healthy body.<br /><br />It sure beats the alternatives.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-15853385867391882212009-02-05T10:33:00.000-08:002009-02-05T10:43:11.264-08:00It's not too lateIt's not cancer-related, per se, but I just read <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2009/02/05/national/w010349S95.DTL">an incredibly moving article</a> about a man who, during the civil rights era, beat a young black activist bloody. The activist survived, and grew up to be Congressman John Lewis; his assailant lived for years without realizing who his victim had been, but plagued by guilt over his own actions. When he did come to understand the link between his behavior and this member of Congress, he contacted Lewis to try to offer an apology. The two men met, Wilson (the attacker) apologized, and Lewis forgave him.<br /><br />I find this moving for so many reasons. First and foremost, it's never too late. These guys waited over 45 years--waited to make amends, or to accept them. Wilson is the first person involved in that attack to come forward to Lewis. They are both humbled and profoundly changed by their new bond of understanding, which grew out of shared violence. People can address their regrets, even if it takes too long; other people can forgive, and experience the wholeness that comes through forgiveness. And from a Buddhist perspective, it is wonderful to have the additional compassion and healing in the world, that didn't exist before these two men met, and that now extend benefits to all of us.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-52558049223572119452009-02-04T09:48:00.000-08:002009-02-04T09:55:10.095-08:00The LA Times today <a href="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/booster_shots/2009/02/green-tea-and-t.html">mentions a study</a> by USC researchers that found green tea to block the effects of a specific kind of chemo agent used on multiple myeloma and a couple of other cancers--not breast cancer, though. <a href="http://www.umm.edu/altmed/articles/green-tea-000255.htm">Green tea</a> is an antioxidant (perhaps it would be more precise to say it <span style="font-style: italic;">contains</span> antioxidants) that are effective at preventing breast cancer, and it may even aid in the treatment of breast cancer. Although some very conservative oncologists, such as the local practice near where I live, don't want their patients using green tea or other antioxidants during chemo, I found a substantial amount of <a href="http://ezinearticles.com/?Green-Tea%E2%80%99s-Influence-on-Chemotherapy&id=365458">research</a> showing that green tea actually <span style="font-style: italic;">aided</span> the effects of chemo. It may help chemotherapy target cancer cells better, while protecting non-cancer cells and thus easing the damaging effects on the body. (Note that I am linking to a layperson-friendly page, not to one of the studies, but a quick Google search will get you the real research.)<br /><br />I'm very happy to say that I was treated at USC, which--this study notwithstanding--seems more open to green tea; I wasn't treated at the local practice.<br /><br />Just wanted to share!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-69544954097847676012009-01-22T22:00:00.000-08:002009-01-23T22:47:04.142-08:00And now for something a little bit differentI've been quiet again! Nothing bad. In fact, I've been writing plenty, only it's all been book chapters and reviews of journal articles and other scintillating fare. Work is back in full swing and if I'm not cleaning up the remains of my fall course, I'm writing or doing tedious administrative stuff, or if it's a great day, playing some volleyball. But I keep meaning to write this post, and last week's season premiere of <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.hbo.com/biglove">Big Love</a> (on HBO) finally gave me the kick in the pants I need.<br /><br />I want to talk about arts and literature. Surely we've all noticed by now that cancer is a popular plot device in books, movies, TV... Sometimes it's infuriating, sometimes it's downright terrifying. There are quite a few artistic works that have been important to me during my treatment and post-cancer life, and I wanted to share them.<br /><br />I'll start with the things I don't recommend so highly. You may remember that Nancy on <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0092492/"><span style="font-style: italic;">thirtysomething</span> </a>got breast cancer (she got better), as did a character--Dana, maybe??--on <a href="http://www.sho.com/lword"><span style="font-style: italic;">The L Word</span></a> (she died). And Samantha of <a href="http://www.hbo.com/city"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sex in the City</span></a>, of course. In fact, Samantha's oncologist's name was taken from a <a href="http://www.toweroncology.com/tho-clinicalteam_physicians-mcandrew.htm">real oncologist</a> here in LA, the one from whom I got my second opinion. Anyway, these portrayals were fine, but they all made me cynical and annoyed just the way that <a href="http://goodcancer.blogspot.com/2007/10/are-you-aware.html">Pink October</a> does. I couldn't decide whether Dr. Susan Love's appearance on The L Word was a nice bit of public service and education, or a cringe-inducing turn by a non-actor. In either case, the Art was definitely taking a back seat to Being Important Through Breast Cancer.<br /><br />While all these portrayals were just pedestrian, there is one movie that I would absolutely, positively tell anyone with cancer to fling far from them. Torch it, burn it, or if necessary run in the opposite direction. It's the movie (or play) <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0243664/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Wit</span></a>, starring Emma Thompson. Sure, an acting tour de force, but perhaps the most dire, depressing, hell-on-earth depiction of cancer (ovarian) and chemo (brutal) that I've ever seen. And nothing good ever happens, except she gets a popsicle. Seriously! This is NOT a movie for a cancer patient.<br /><br />OK, now on to better things. These are still not happy, necessarily. But they are works that gave me hope and comfort and a sense of larger importance in life--even if they sometimes left me sobbing, too.<br /><br />One of the books I read during my winter break was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jhumpa_Lahiri">Jhumpa Lahiri</a>'s <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/06/books/review/Schillinger3-t.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">Unaccustomed Earth</span></a>. I've loved this author for a while now, and didn't even realize until I started the book that it was also on many year-end top-10 lists--but I can affirm that it deserves to be there. The latter half of the book consists of three connected short stories, collectively titled <span style="font-style: italic;">Hema and Kaushik</span>, about two people whose lives touch briefly at a couple of points in time. I might not recommend these stories to someone currently being treated for breast cancer, or to anyone out of treatment but plagued by fears of recurrence: Without spoiling any surprises, there is a plot point involving breast cancer that isn't a happy tale. But the writing is beautiful and the stories are deeply engaging. (And by the way, ALL of her books are fantastic.)<br /><br />I've mentioned, before, the TV show <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.scifi.com/battlestar"><span style="font-style: italic;">Battlestar Galactica</span></a> (the current version, not the cheesy 70s incarnation). It's not geekdom sci-fi; it's intelligent, challenging drama. In the very first episode (a 3-hr movie, really), one of the main characters, Laura Roslin, is diagnosed with breast cancer. She's the secretary of education in her world's government, and she has to attend a ceremonial event just hours after the devastating news that her cancer is inoperable and incurable. While she is at the event (which takes place in orbit around her planet--there IS a sci-fi element), the planet is nuked to oblivion and everyone in orbit must flee the hostile attackers. When her aide finds her crying in the lavatory, she tells him about her diagnosis and says something like this: "The human race may be completely destroyed, and all I can think about is, I have cancer and I'm gonna die." Mary McDonnell, the actress, just nails it. In any case, it's not only Roslin's cancer, but the whole theme of dealing with terror and loss and existential crisis that has made this show a touchstone for me throughout cancer and survivorship.<br /><br />I want to mention two shows that aren't about cancer, per se, but were also enormously important to me during treatment and shortly thereafter. The HBO miniseries <a href="http://www.hbo.com/films/angelsinamerica"><span style="font-style: italic;">Angels in America</span></a>, based on the Tony Kushner play, is one of the most beautiful works of art--it's a visual poem, or symphony, not just a drama--I've ever experienced. It's full of darkness and dread, but then hope and life and determination. "But still. Bless me anyway. I want more life." These 6 hours say more profound things about living and loving than I've seen anywhere else.<br /><br />The last one--HBO again; I wonder if they'll ever get back to this level of excellence?--is the show <a href="http://www.hbo.com/sixfeetunder"><span style="font-style: italic;">Six Feet Under</span></a>. It's off the air now, but the DVD boxed set is excellent. The show deals with a family in Los Angeles (holla!) who runs a funeral home. Each week features the "DGDJ," as the folks at <a href="http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Television Without Pity</span></a> used to say ("dead guy du jour"). The episode opens with someone's death. They run the gamut, from someone slipping in the shower; to a dogsitter racing down a hill on rollerblades, pulled by the two dogs she was sitting, and running smack into a car; to a "Jesus freak" listening to a religious broadcast, seeing a bunch of blow-up porn dolls escaping into the air from the back of a truck, thinking they were angels here to announce the Rapture, and then running out into the middle of traffic to be taken up by them. And, of course, cancer: the woman who looked pregnant with the tumor that had grown for months, that was now untreatable and killed her in a few days.<br /><br />It might seem macabre or depressing to watch deaths occur every week, but I found <span style="font-style: italic;">Six Feet Under</span> hugely reassuring. It reminded me of just how many ways there are to die, of how delicate and fragile our lives are, how vulnerable to the slightest vibrations in fate and positioning. And that reminded me of the futility of sitting and worrying about whether cancer would kill me, since there are a billion other things that could do it, too, and meanwhile I have a life to live and I need to embrace it. Just as the characters on this show did, with all their messy and dysfunctional fumblings.<br /><br />Oh, and I should explain my reference to <span style="font-style: italic;">Big Love</span>! One of the characters may be having a recurrence of ovarian cancer--which nearly killed her 7 years ago. :-( That's sad and spooky, but it was interesting to watch her immediate response, which was to sit down and tell the cancer that she was not going to let it win, and then to seize control of her own life, determined not to be a passive victim of fate or other people's whims. You go, girl!<br /><br />I know this isn't a very comment-oriented blog, but I would really like to invite readers to share the stories, books, music, artwork, movies, TV shows, etc., that are meaningful to your own sense of life or to your cancer journey. I'd love to learn about more things to check out!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27249170.post-65354670329788060112008-12-29T14:51:00.000-08:002008-12-29T20:43:17.338-08:00More timeThere's a guy who used to play volleyball with my beach group--he was very good, better than pretty much anyone else who plays with us. (I am decidedly average, myself.) Unlike many people who give unwanted or unhelpful advice, he was good at pinpointing how someone could play better. One of his favorite comments was, "You have more time than you think you have."<br /><br />He said it when a hard serve came over the net and someone (like me) spazzed toward it awkwardly, flailing and then shanking the ball far out of bounds. He said it when a low set sailed toward a post and someone (like me) jabbed at it, panicking, and hit the ball right into the net. He was always right, and it's one of the most helpful pieces of advice I've gotten. The better players have a lovely economy of motion, like Neo in The Matrix--realizing they have enough time to do what they need to do and do it calmly, which makes everything go better.<br /><br />So why this volleyball reverie on a cancer blog? Because I'm going to assert that it's true for cancer, too: You have more time than you think you have. True as a philosophical statement, true on many levels. You have more time to make decisions in the very beginning--it's not necessary to rush into surgery in 3 days and rush into treatment after that. It's OK to take the time to make the decisions well. You may have more time in life than your diagnosis suggests, who knows; my aunt Sylvia lived for 11 years past her prognosis of 2. My grandma, who died of lung cancer, outlived her prognosis by a couple of years.<br /><br />Perhaps most important, though, you have more time than you think you do <span style="font-style: italic;">right now</span>. Cancer is easy to obsess over, but think of all the time it claims that way--time it takes away from living life.<br /><br />It's a good mantra in general, I think. <span style="font-style: italic;">You have more time than you think you do.</span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17084883106856075040noreply@blogger.com3