love is health
To Chemo, or not to chemo?9/25/2013 I've been reading a lot of information about natural approaches to fighting cancer. My first round of therapy is scheduled for next Thursday. That leaves me enough time to seriously consider the merits of it. Consider the following:
Reasons to avoid it 1) Nothing, not even chemotherapy, can eliminate the risk of recurrence. There is no guarantee. My friend went through chemo, only to have a stage IV metastatic recurrence. My cousin had the same experience. If you visit a breast cancer message board, you will see the stories of hundreds of women who have experienced recurrence after chemo, radiation, and surgery. Chemo is known to reduce risk, but it does not eliminate it. Nothing does. This is a chronic illness. 2) Our bodies are built to kill cancerous cells. We generate millions of cancerous cells throughout our lifetime, and successfully eradicate them. Cancer cells get out of control only when we compromise our body's ability to fight. We do this by eating the wrong foods, using the wrong cosmetics, and by living stressful lives. I am most certainly guilty of having made some very poor food choices in the past (2-3 servings of red meat in 1 meal, ice cream every day, not reading labels, carrying my stress). If I give my body the proper tools to fight this, it will do its job. 3) If our immune system is largely responsible for eradicating cancerous cells, it doesn't make sense to me that crashing my immune system will help me. I get that the logic here is to destroy all rapidly developing cells, but that includes my white blood cells (more specifically, my NK cells). NK cells are cancer destroyers. I feel like chemo is the equivalent of dropping an A-bomb over a combat area where you know you have troops fighting the enemy. How about I just better arm my troops instead. 4) Inflammation and angiogenesis are hugely responsible for the growth and proliferation of cancer cells. Chemo promotes both of these responses. Inflammation (the simple act of swelling) leads to angiogenesis - the generation of new blood vessels. Think about it: You get hurt, the area inflames, and your cells send signals for more blood (thereby more blood vessels) to bring coagulates and nutrients to the area to promote healing. New cells are generated in the area to replace the damages ones. The area heals: voila. However, with cancer, inflammation functions like a wound that never heals. The inflammatory response, as it relates to cancer, tricks your body into allowing cancer to keep regenerating without ever stopping. So swelling/ inflammation is the breeding ground for cancer. Therefore, if I inflame my body with chemo, how does it make sense that I will heal it? 5) There are things I can do (specifically dietary and environmental changes) to prevent recurrence. I won't tell you how much my most recent grocery bill was, but I will tell you it was pricey. But you know what's more expensive? Medical bills to treat a recurrent tumor or metastasis. I'd say 80% of our purchases are organic. I also shop specifically for cancer-fighting foods. I no longer use tupperware for transporting food, and opt for glassware instead. I microwave food sparingly. I just swapped out my antiperspirant for naturally derived deodorant. My makeup drawer is next on the list for an overhaul. It's amazing how much shit we are surrounded by that is slowly killing us, or making it harder for us to stay healthy. I have become vigilant. My eyes are opening. Along with this vigilance comes the ability to monitor my breasts as well. I will likely get MRI's every 6 months to ensure I don't have any recurrences. If for whatever reason I do (knock on wood), I will catch them early. 6) The standard of care was not created with me in mind. It's too generic. The All-knowing Standard of Care used to prescribe a treatment plan for patients is based on clinical trials of thousands of women, mostly over 40, and mostly on a (SAD) Standard American Diet. They are not representative of me, and therefore neither is their treatment plan. When researchers come up with a treatment plan for female contact sport athletes under 35 who are ER+, PR+, Her2-, who already have a relatively clean diet, then the standard of care will be more compelling for me. Reasons to do it. 1) The alternative path is not black/ white. That's scary. The appealing thing about chemo is that I'd go through 4 treatments, and be on tamoxifen for 4 years. It's a cut out, clear plan. Not doing chemo means having to formulate a plan on my own, just relying on my own research and grit to stick to whatever plan I create. But what if I am horribly wrong? What if I didn't do enough research? I am neither an oncologist, nor nutritionist. However, I have yet to meet one who says "yeah, forgoing chemo is a GREAT idea". 2) It's just 4 treatments. 4 ephemeral treatments. It will be over before I know it, and I will be done before Christmas. 3) My doctor told me to, and I trust him. I realize how stupid this sounds. But I have to put it out there. I am an incredibly trusting person, perhaps to a fault. So when someone who has taken a pledge not to harm me (or anyone else) says that this is the *best* option, I want to believe them. I have no reason not to. They have been treating thousands of patients for decades now. I am only dealing with my first - me. Defying this recommendation is a fundamental "F*ck you" to the very people trying to help me - those who I have entrusted with my health to this point. I take that gesture very seriously. 4) Without knowing the exact cause for getting breast cancer, it's hard to calculate an exact solution on my own. We still cannot explain why, despite all odds, I got it to begin with. I am pretty damn healthy. I work out regularly. I eat pretty cleanly (better than ever in the last 1.5 year). I am pretty positive and not easily depressed. I am only 30 (just barely 30 when I felt my lump). In any patient, finding a precise solution is impossible. Therefore, chemo is the most versatile solution to eradicating and rogue cells. 5) I have to do something, like, NOW. In reading a ton, I have learned that tumors are kind of like the Hydra. (Not the good Hydra - I mean the O.G. Hydra). Primary tumors send out a chemical signal that says, "Hey rogue cells! Don't set up fight clubs anywhere else". So when the primary tumor is removed, that signal ceases, meaning the rogues are able to set up franchises (e.g. tumors) anywhere. Per the Almighty Standard of Care, there is a very narrow window of time in which chemotherapy needs to begin after surgery to prevent rogues from establishing their new tumor sites - within 6 weeks from surgery. Guess what week I am in. That's right. Something has to be done NOW. (BTW: I really wish I would have know this before I ate all that ice cream and churros post-surgery. Mistakes were made.) Food for thought There is not enough information available that accurately compares or even evaluates a variety of treatments. The scientific standard to determine if a treatment is effective is the randomized, controlled, double blind study. But how do you even begin to evaluate a lifestyle change using this narrowly defined standard? How do you measure the anecdotal experiences of hundreds of thousands of people who were successfully treated through unconventional means? This standard for evidence is so narrow that it makes proving the effectiveness of some things nearly impossible. That said... Cancer research is in its infancy. Only after becoming a patient did I realize just how much we don't know about cancer. We're still pretty much in the dark. As a result, our methods of treatment are pretty barbaric, because we don't have enough information (yet) to know what's actually best to do. Unfortunately, nutrition and environmental factors seem to be at the bottom of the research pile. Most of the focus has been on genetics and chemical treatment. Can you imagine if, 50 years from now, we discovered (and by discovered, I mean took seriously the notion) that dietary/ lifestyle changes were effective cancer treatments? What if there is another cure that we just haven't realized yet? The prevalence of cancer has increased exponentially since WWII. The end of that war was a significant industrialization marker. We changed how we raise, process, package, and distribute food and other products. Since then, our food changed. Our chemical exposure changed. Our stress levels changed. I can guarantee that anyone reading this has numerous toxic chemicals pulsing through their body that far exceed EPA or FDA standards for toxicity. The way our food is raised and processed has changed so significantly, making health dangers simultaneously ubiquitous and clandestine. Your milk, assuming it is not organic, is dangerous. Your non-organic produce is toxic. Even your grass-fed, organic, free to roam meats can be dangerous if packaged incorrectly. Bottled water, especially in AZ where it is constantly exposed to heat, is poisoned. I don't say these things to be alarmist. I say them to point out how pervasive these pitfalls are. They are everywhere, are we are ill equipped and ill-educated to navigate these landmines. Of course cancer rates have gone up. We haven't done much to stop it. All this said (and much left unsaid), I have a heavy decision to make, and the clock is ticking.
4 Comments
After the exchange surgery9/20/2013 Everything went really well yesterday during the exchange surgery. The whole process took less than 2 hours, and I was back at home that night. They had to take some fat from my tummy to fill in some indentations on my chest that developed post-mastectomy. <-- I wish I could say that's what I look like right now, but the truth is, I don't know. I am back in the suicide bomber vest (this time without grenades), and in a tummy girdle - burritoed for 4-5 days. Feeling sexy. I am also back to no cardio for 4-6 weeks, and no lifting anything over 5 lbs. What am I going to do with myself? Lots of visualization, I guess. On the flip side, I am glad the turtle shell is gone. What is the turtle shell, you ask? It's the tissue expander/ temporary implant under my chest muscle for the last 5 weeks that was hard as a rock and uncomfortable as all heck. I now have something a little softer, a bit smoother, and more like the real deal. That's progress. I just wanted to pass along that I am doing well, and focused on healing as quickly and efficiently as possible. Thanks for the love and support. You all know how to make a lady feel good :) "A Setback is a setup for a comeback".9/18/2013 Today, I read that on the cafe walls of the Cancer Center where I get treatment. It also happened to be on the wall next to the quotation "Chemo sucks. But if it sucks the cancer from you, then yay chemo!" I read it unempathetically, unable to relate to the nastiness associated with chemo. However, experience or not, you'd have a hard time getting me to say "yay chemo".
Sorry. I'm not buying it. Today was supposed to be a regular appointment with my reconstructive surgeon to discuss my "replacement" options for my surgery tomorrow. So you can imagine my surprise when I got a visit from my oncologist (who I was scheduled to see tomorrow for routine follow up). He wanted to see me asap. I didn't understand the urgency then, but it makes sense now. Long story short, I will have to go through the one thing I have been happy to avoid until now. Something inside me, on a molecular level, wants to create cancer cells. It is insistant. It is aggressive, and the likelihood of it creating another cancer in me is too high for the standard of care to allow me to continue without chemotherapy. I have to go through EFFING CHEMO. There, I said it. I feel so mixed. Part of me feels duped or betrayed by the feeling of security that came with rapid healing and great forward progress. It says something when even the doctors were surprised to see how aggressive my tumor cells were reported to be. It caught us all off guard, and left me scrambling emotionally to wrap my mind around it. He announced this to me with such urgency that they wanted to postpone my surgery tomorrow to begin treatment immediately. I still haven't entirely digested that. And even still, another part of me recognizes that this too is temporary. 12 of weeks of treatment will pass by quickly, and be but a distant memory. And so, I keep my eyes on my prize. Return to good health. Get back to the track. Just. Keep. Skating. I project it will be about 5 weeks before I am on skates again, still no contact. You bet your ass that I will try and skate through chemo, if my body allows it. And if not then, when I am done. It can take my breast away. It can take my hair away. But I will be damned if it takes my skates away from me forever. Not a chance in hell. Holy cannoli! Has it been a month since surgery already? Frankly, I have been so overwhelmed in thought that I haven’t settled on what to post about. As you can imagine, going through a mastectomy and healing process forces you to self reflect, so I have been in "existential thinking mode" since. I wanted to share with you all some things that I’ve learned from all this, in hopes you find this helpful. You are not immune, no matter how healthy you are. Vigilance is critical. I am a young, healthy, fit, woman who eats cleanly, doesn’t smoke, drinks somewhat rarely, and not genetically predisposed to breast cancer. Yet here I am. The odds of a woman getting cancer in her lifetime are 1 in 8. Mathematically speaking, that means 2 people on your 16 person roster will have it at some point. In a league of 100 women, that’s roughly 12 women who will battle it in their lifetime. I nonetheless consider myself lucky. I was fortunate enough to feel something, see my doctor, get an early diagnosis, and get treated before the bad cells spread outside the breast. I was diagnosed at stage 1a, thanks to my “vigilance” (e.g. nightly self soothing). I got to know my girls well enough to know when something didn’t feel right. If you don’t self examine regularly, I very strongly encourage you to get in the habit. It saved my life, and saved me from a much scarier path to recovery. Your body will take care of you if you take care of it. My recovery from surgery has been swift and effortless. While I am not about to guarantee that yours would be too (should you ever have to), I will attribute my fast recovery to my fitness and my love of roller derby. Pre-derby, I ate pretty poorly, was a little overweight, and didn’t workout. By joining derby I had the incentive to workout regularly, clean up my diet, and get in shape. My estimated 3 day hospital stay was only overnight. My chest muscles well tolerated under-pec expansion due to their fitness, which expedited a 3 month process to 6 weeks. I was back in skates just 2.5 weeks after surgery. I am now cleared for cardio 4 weeks after surgery. None of this would have been possible if I was in poor shape. Health and wellness are more than just prevention - they can also be a jump start to recovery when life surprises you. Shit happens that you can’t control. Dwell on it at your peril. I had a pastor at the hospital ask me “so what do you make of all this?”, to which I replied, “sorry to be crass, but I file this in the ‘shit happens’ category.” Cancer treatment is nothing like what you see on TV. It would be so relieving if it was as simple as going to a doctor, getting a test, finding out immediately and knowing your treatment plan. Actually, it’s the complete opposite of that. I didn’t know my entire diagnosis until after my breast was removed. Each appointment, each test, each conversation with a doctor only provided me a morsel of information than what I had before. This left me hungry for more control, often lost in a tunnel of speculation, online research, and message boards. I grasped at anything I could to try and equip myself with knowledge, thinking I could predict what’s next before the doctor could. While I was often on target, I realized it was all an effort to gain control when I had almost none. The more I tried to manage the situation, the more stressful it became. The closer I got to my mastectomy date, the more I came to accept all the research in the world would not change my diagnosis. I could be consumed by it, or learn from it. Since dwelling on my lack of control wasn’t doing me much good, I chose instead to see what I could learn from letting go of control. It’s a struggle. I am still striving to accept the concept of letting go. While it is uncomfortable, depression would be worse. You get what you give, though what you get may still surprise you. You reap what you sow. The effort you put into your skating skill, your body, your relationships, and your community, will manifest sooner or later. Use your time wisely. Like many women in this sport, I wear many hats. Teammate, captain, committee member, mentor, wife, employee, sister, friend, daughter, aunt… it’s a long list. However, my maintanence of these roles has played a critical part in receiving support when I needed it. I was often left speechless at the flood of support that engulfed me when I came out of the cancer closet. While I knew my community would help me when needed, I was truly shocked at how deep and rich the support is. I put a lot of time into being a good captain, teammate, wife, etc. This has been an opportunity to reap the rewards of those efforts. Love comes from unexpected places... Like that girl from high school who you thought hated you, but gave you $100 to help with your medical treatments. Or the woman on the east coast you met over the internet who is going through a much tougher cancer battle. Or your godmother who is dying, whom you haven’t seen in almost 10 years, who sends you a card. Or your anesthesiologist ex who is giving you pre-surgery advice. Or your derby friends in Seattle whom you skated with once, 2 years ago, who sent a care package. The list goes on. Nothing draws love from the woodworks like having your life threatened. I won’t deny how good it feels to be loved, and to know people care. Life isn't a contest, so comparison is futile. This experience taught me how much I measure myself by using others as a ruler. Am I more or less healthy? Successful? Lovable? Deserving? Worthy? After my original diagnosis, I felt uncomfortable identifying as a "cancer patient", knowing there are women losing their hair, throwing up, feeling weak, and having the snot beat out of them by chemo & radiation. That has not, and will not be my journey. Nevertheless, that does not trivialize my path. Our life experiences are incomparable given our varied tolerances for the unexpected. What is earth-shattering to one is a walk in the park to another. I need to stop measuring my health and worth by looking externally. Same goes for my development as a skater. It’s not a sisterhood. It’s a family. The larger derbisphere can sometimes be dismissive of men, children, and fans of the sport when we go on about our “sisterhood”. I have been guilty of this more than anyone I know. My focus has been pretty narrowly sighted on my team and league. So when a member of the men’s league unexpectedly asked if they could organize a fundraiser on my behalf, I was stunned. I felt like I didn’t deserve it, but couldn’t turn down the help I sorely needed. My guilt was automatic; I felt indebted to them. However, when support began pouring in from past teammates/ leaguemates, derby businesses, skaters from other leagues, junior skaters and their parents, fans - I began to understand we function more like a family and less like a business. The transaction between the men’s league and me wasn’t a transaction at all. They just wanted to do something nice for me, the way family does. They didn’t ask for anything in return, nor did anyone who expressed their support through donations, time, food, or other commodities. I hope some day I have the opportunity to reciprocate the support so graciously gifted to me. *Photo by Paul Daniels Garcia. AboutSnapshots in time across a span of years managing breast cancer Archives
June 2020
Categories
All
|