Dying of Cancer Day

I listen to public radio for an embarrassingly large proportion of the workday. I turn it off when it annoys me or prevents me from thinking.

Today seems to be People Dying Of Cancer Day at my local station. First an interview with Loudon Wainwright Jr talking about "I probably won't be around for that" and "Had to tell my 8-year-old I was dying"... and now poor Roger Ebert, 70 years young.... and they're devoting the afternoon to it.

ENOUGH ALREADY.

Chapter Two

For the record, my game plan when I was diagnosed was this:

1. Get through treatment.
2. Get on with life.

No "survivorship" crap. No pink ribbons. No place for cancer to become part of my identity, a permanent fixture, a black cloud.

I'm beyond sad to report that even before my treatment has ended my game plan needs adjustment. Anxiety has gotten the better of me these days. I live with the constant fear of recurrence, feel like I'm dying all the time, and am waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thus, the name of this blog.

OK, it's not a new fear. But I have realized lately that it (colors / infects/ informs ) my every waking moment. This cancer thing, as it turns out, can't actually be shrugged off as easily as I'd hoped.

Yes, I'm joining support groups and taking advantage of the ample breast cancer resources at the hospital where I'm being treated.

Update

Diagnostic mammogram x2 showed no increase in calcification. Technician told me that 85% of them are benign. Would have been nice to hear that from oncologist 6m ago, but he doesn't care about my mental health, as I well know.

Hair grew back curly -- a new look for me. But I'm keeping it short, since I get SO many compliments on it. Who knew?

Felt a weird hitch in my left chest upon deep breaths, over a 24-hr period. No pain, just.... weird. I could actually hear a click when I breathed deeply. Urgent care doc on this Saturday night tells me this is typical of radiation patients. Calcified muscles in the chest wall rubbing together. Again, would have been nice to know this might happen, so I didn't have to feel like I was having a slow-motion heart attack. Forget about cancer *awareness,* people.... how about educating cancer patients, since their doctors don't?

Oh... and that dream of a trouble-free GI track post-app'y? Merely a dream.

More adventures in cooling

Thanks to this silly but inspiring article in the NYT, I'm off on another search for ways to beat hot flashes into submission. As with so many NYT articles online, the comments are more interesting and informative than the article itself.

And before you start thinking I'm being ridiculous, remember that I'm looking at 5 more years of chemical menopause, thanks to tamoxifen.

One reader suggested Polar-Products, which looks promising. Pretty sure I need a helmet liner for biking, a cool tie, and wrist wraps. If they work, I'll consider the vest. Bra inserts? I don't think so.

Just bad luck

OK then. Nobody thinks the app'y was anything but random, and nobody cares about the gallstones.  Kind of saw that coming.

Appendix no more

Had it out last week, thankfully before it ruptured. They also found gallstones, which my internet sleuthing tells me may be at least partially due to my hormone therapy.

While I'm not thrilled about the prospect of another operation, the idea of having a trouble-free GI track for the first time in my life is quite appealing.

Seeing GP today. Awaiting word from surgeon and oncologist.

Progress

Allrighty now! More meds = fewer hot flashes and less anxiety. (That would be Zoloft, for you fellow-sufferers out there.)

Turns out that caffeine and alcohol are quite reliable triggers of hot flashes. Just my luck.