After Cancer Coping With The Instant Cancer Bond

So after you get diagnosed with cancer, it seems like everyone you know has cancer because:

You have met a lot of other people going through cancer treatment while hanging out at chemo, in support groups, your oncologist's waiting room, etc. That part is kind of nice. You find out you aren't alone in this cancer business. You have an instant bond with new friends.

Then you start hearing about all these other people who are diagnosed with cancer. You feel like you are supposed to be their friend too - because of that cancer bond thing again. Your cancer friends tell you about everyone they know when they are diagnosed with cancer because they have cancer and you have cancer so you can talk cancer all the time. And then it explodes, you meet and hear about more and more people with cancer and this cancer bond obligation doesn't quit. If someone you know  knows someone else with cancer, they expect you to become new best friends because you have that cancer bond so you must be alike.

If let unleashed, you will become swallowed by guilt that you are supposed to be friends with cancer people everywhere. But you have to learn to control the guilt so it doesn't swallow you.

I remember in college, I had thyroid cancer between my freshman and sophomore years. It was sort of an open secret - one some levels a lot of people knew I had cancer but no one talked about it. Back then cancer was evil and you were guaranteed to die soon.

Early in my junior year (I think), a male student I knew showed up at a party with another male student who I knew but not very well - who was now in a wheelchair dying from a brain cancer. It was a small school but we didn't have much in common. But now wait, we both had cancer so we could bond. How awesome! Not really. I felt it would be rude to excuse myself too soon because no one else wanted to talk to the guy in the wheelchair. But I also felt very much put on the spot because this instant cancer bond was there.

Finally I think I excused myself to get another beer or something. But I had felt trapped. Our mutual friend had trapped us together hoping to improve his dying friend's life by taking him to a party.

It was just awful. I felt guilt but there was nothing I could do. I did not want to talk to this guy anymore than he wanted to talk to me, we were not ready to compare cancer notes.

Another part of cancer coping is learning to manage that instant cancer bond. You can't let it suck you in so you get attached to every person in the world who has cancer (through that six degrees of separation thing) and bear their emotional burden of cancer. The guilt is killer.

While its nice to meet people with cancer and talk to them, you can't let it take over your life.

Because We Get It

I have been going to the same gym probably for eight years or so. I can't remember how long, nor to ask if they can tell me sometime while I am there. But its a great place for me and my ailments. It is also full of all kinds of other 'not-quite-healthy' people. O2 tanks, rollators, walkers, canes, and other body supports are not uncommon.

I have met many people there who I chit chat with while doing cardio and between resistance exercises. Its a very dedicated group who goes to the gym because of the extra attention we get for all our ailments. We get to know each other and notice when someone is not around for a while - is it surgery, vacation, or, or, or.... We breathe a silent sigh relief when we see people return.

There is one woman who I noticed shortly after she joined. Why did I notice here? She has that lovely chemo hair style, very sparse in many places on her head, and chemo pallor. She seems to have many friends who she chats with there and appears to know them outside of the gym.

We chat from time to time when we end up next to each other on the seated bikes. I know I have talked cancer with her regularly - because its something we have in common.

I hadn't talked to her since last fall sometime - before my knee surgery - until last week. We actually had a nice chat and caught up. She has been having some new side effects from her chemo and plans to talk to her oncologist at her next infusion to see if something can be done. She has been treated for lymphoma for the past ten years and this is her first real problem with neuropathy.

At the end of our conversation she said something to me about the fact that I am pretty much the only one there who 'gets it'.

Its that crazy cancer bond thing. But I don't even know her name. That doesn't matter because we both get it.

How The Post Cancer Brain Works

I have lots of aches and pain. This is a proven fact. You can ask any of my doctors. And I am also a klutz. And I have the battle scars to prove it.

Last week, I tripped over my father's wheelchair in the waiting room of the chemotherapy department. How embarrassing. In front of maybe 40 people waiting for their appointments. They all noticed.

This is what happened. We arrived at the hospital and my father grabbed a wheelchair. He has a bad leg so he pushes a wheelchair around instead of using a cane or walker. It's easier for him. He checked in for his appointment and we sat down to wait for him to be called. He parked the wheelchair sideways in front of the chair between us.

Then we both noticed a new quilt hanging on the wall. It's a lovely picture of lighthouse. My father suggested I take a picture of it for my cousin who quilts (as someone else was already photographing it). I got up from my seat, looking at the quilt on the wall. The next thing I knew, I was on my hands and knees in the middle of the floor.

Everyone around me gasped as they witnessed my extreme klutziness. I stood up and said I was fine. I didn't think I had damaged anything.

Then a nurse stopped by and asked if I was okay. I said I was. A second nurse stopped by and asked me to walk with her for a minute and wanted to make sure I was fine. She asked if I hit my head. I said no, just my fat butt. Finally, when my father was getting his port flushed, I think my father made a joke about me tripping over wheelchairs. His chemo nurse asked if I was the one causing all the trouble in the waiting room. I said my fat butt landed on the wheelchair but I was fine. My 'padding' saved me from any injury. Precisely I have a bruise on the back of my left thigh to show my landing point.

Why am I telling you this story? (Patience please.)

Fast forward a week: I have had a horrible cold (not as a result of my flying leap over a wheelchair). I have been spending a lot of time in bed as a result of that cold. It now seems to be getting better but I am still in hiding in case I have germs. The problem is that I seem to be having new problems with my right hip as it wraps around towards my spine. I really do not think I landed on it.

But I have had some pretty significant pain from it if I am sitting or standing for any length of time. And if I have pain that gets past my pain patch, its bad. I have been managing it by staying in bed. Yesterday I had to ice my new pain for a good 20 minutes to get it back to a reasonable level after weaving for a while - sitting in a chair.

I have decided to call my doctor because it is getting worse, not better. My cold is much better. But the pain is worse.

Finally, I am at the point of how the post cancer brain works: Is it a bruise I don't remember getting in my flying leap over the wheelchair? Or is it a BAD thing, like cancer cooties? The logic side of my brain says 'its a bruise'. The cancer side of my brain says 'its cancer and I am going to die'.

Anyone else do this?

Giving Back

Or helping yourself while you help others. After going through cancer, or other nasty medical misadventure, you are traumatized, and, as in the words of Arlo Guthrie:

"...you get injected, inspected, detected, infected, ..."

You do not have fun for many months as you watch your hair fall out, your blood counts go up and down. You also follow your tumor markers more than the stock market, try to figure out how to get rid of your 'chemo pallor', and lighten up any surgical scars. At the end you feel like you have been dragged through a swamp, up a mountain, and under the proverbial bus. 

You spend a lot of time trying to find the rumored "new normal" and crawl around dealing with PTSD. At the end, you are you again but not the same. There is a lot of coping involved and it doesn't end overnight.

Since my second cancer diagnosis I have spent more time trying to cope than I have ever done anything else in my life. One thing that has been very helpful for me, because of all the cancer crap I have had to deal with in my life, has been to give back and help other people who are coping with cancer - or just plain 'giving back'. 

In the past three weeks or so I have been connected with three people who are coping with cancer. They are completely disconnected from each other. But I am trying to help them cope. 

How can I help them? I am not a doctor. I am not a medical person at all and do not claim to have any medical or psych/social training. But I do have experiences to share. Most medical personnel have not been through cancer so they cant talk about it from my side of the street.

I can talk to them and help (I hope) them cope with what they are going through. I can help them find resources to give them more information (instead of listening to Dr Google or reading wikipedia). I am also living proof that someone can live through cancer twice. 

What does all that give me? It gives me the opportunity to stay connected with the cancer community. I can never ignore the fact I had cancer twice and those thoughts never leave my head. By helping others, I get a sense of satisfaction that I am doing something good, something that helps someone else. 

In addition, I am not trying to hide my real feelings about cancer by burying it some place where I don't talk about. I can't hide my cancer feelings so it does me a world of good to use them to help other people.

So if you have cancer, go find help if you need it, or if you can, go help someone else who would benefit. Do some good by giving back.

Cancer Cure?

No there is not a cancer cure. We need to keep remembering that. We are told by our doctors that there is no evidence of disease or some thing along those lines - which just boils down to "we are not capable of finding it yet". If your doctor tells you that you are cured, please find a new one asap.

In this day and age should there be a new definition of cured of cancer? I'm not sure. I have friends who tell me they are cured. I try to figure out what they are talking about. Seriously, where did this cured business come from? I want to question their position on this but in some ways do not want to know.

"Upon completion of treatment, one of only two scenarios exist. Either all cancer cells are annihilated by surgery, chemo or radiation never to return or some of the little cells escaped and plan to mount a future counteroffensive. The trouble is that technical limitations thwart our ability to measure small volumes of cancer cells. Blood work, imaging like PET scans and CT scans or physical exams are simply too crude at present to predict, always and accurately, whether cancer will recur. And so, like Schrodinger’s cat experiment, a quiet cat placed in an opaque box is assumed to be both alive and dead at the same time. You just don’t know. Likewise, cancer cells after treatment are assumed dead, but we go on testing to discover any signs that the disease may have returned. CT scans. Blood work. Physical exams. Ad nauseum. Only time will tell."

So as good patients we go to our doctors for years and do what they say. But we know we are not cured.

"A couple caveats here. First, we generally observe patients for five years. After that point, for most diseases, the curves are flat, meaning that we anticipate few further cancer deaths. Thus, the doctor’s five-year survival is equivalent to a layperson’s “cure.” So when docs uncomfortably utter the word “cure," it’s usually after five years from diagnosis. At that time, we generally feel confident that the disease is gone. Secondly, these are dry boring statistical models. So we know where the group will plot out. Each individual patient, however, that’s another story.

Early on, we don’t know, with any certainty, who will be cured. That’s where the term “remission” comes in: when there’s no sign of any cancer, but it is still too early to tell. When the clock strikes 12 on the fifth anniversary of your diagnosis, voila, “remission” magically transforms to “cure.” Sort of like a reverse Cinderella moment.

And thirdly, and perhaps most importantly in a time of rapidly evolving treatments, all published data is at least five years out of date because you have to wait that that long to collect the data following the treatment performed. Treatment options change a lot during five years."

Five years out are we cured? No we are not. So we stop going to our doctors and promise to come back if anything changes.

And even though we know all of the above, there are still a few more caveats.

"Finally, outliers exist. Unfortunately, patients with early-stage disease can recur and die and those with late-stage disease can outlive their predicted expiration date."

So what do we do? We are supposed to live life as if we are cured. We are supposed to like our new normal. But we are not cured and at this point have no chance of being cured. We can just  be happy with remission free survival and no evidence of disease. But not a cure.

Favorites During Chemo

When you are starting chemo, you are warned not to eat your favorite foods during chemo because if chemo makes them taste bad you will never be able to enjoy them again. It's also true of activities that you are able to enjoy doing during chemo.

When I was in chemo, I spent a lot of quality time watching bad tv with the cat sitting next to me. The cat would sit next to me all the time. Watching tv was okay because I could barely focus and could watch the same movies over and over again. They were peripherals.

I still have not eaten one shrimp or scallions. If I smelled scallions during chemo I would have to leave the room because of the smell.  I used to love shrimp and don't really remember eating them much during chemo, but I can't stand them these days.

During chemo, I started knitting and crocheting. This has since lead to weaving and an unhealthy stash of yarn. I don't crochet as muss I used to but I definitely knit and weave. I enjoy them. I find it relaxing. I also enjoy finding colors and texture that work together, or figuring out a new pattern.

But then when knitting or weaving, if I start to think about how I got involved in them again it makes me sad and think about chemo again, and cancer and go back down that cancer road again. Which really sucks in some ways.

But I try to make myself forget all about it and push it out of my brain so I can enjoy myself doing the things I like. Cancer can really suck!

The Young Adult Ignored Cancer Patients

This is one of my pet peeves. Children with cancer have their mature, sane parents advocating for them. Adults with cancer can advocate for themselves.

The young adults - 15 to 30s - often don't find the same support or resources. First they are still trying to figure out who they are and what they will do with their life. Second, they are learning to be independent and should be focusing on their education and careers, not going to chemotherapy. There is hope now that online resources can help fill the gaps for the patients and maybe for the doctors as well.

"In addition, they will probably go on to live long lives and the harsh realities of their cancer treatment can leave them fundamentally changed forever. Issues such as infertility, cardiac damage, or even damaged blood vessels from infusions can further complicate their lives forever.

Teen and young adult cancer patients may live a long time, so it's "important to pay more attention to the quality of their survival -- and not just to their survival," Grundy says.
In other words, long-term side effects from their treatments, such as infertility, need to be avoided if possible or, when unavoidable, must be managed. A weaker heart caused by chemotherapy is not the same for an elderly adult who has only a decade left to live as it might be for someone with decades to go.

According to Grundy, the inspiration for singling out this demographic for special care can be found in a graph of US data from the 1980s and 1990s, showing improvement in survival among different age groups."

All age groups show improvement in cancer survival rates between 1975 and 1997 except young adults - where the rates were lesser or even decreased, for 30-34 year olds.

""In children and older adults, there had been substantial improvement in survival, but where the least amount of improvement had occurred was in this gap between ages 15 and 39," said Grundy, who is also an expert in pediatric, adolescent and young adult oncology with the Canadian Partnership Against Cancer.

Why worse improvement in survival for those patients?

"First of all, they get different cancers [usually] than either older or younger patients," he said. And even when teen and young adult patients get more familiar cancers, like breast cancer, it's usually in a more aggressive form.

There's also "a knowledge gap," Grundy said. "Most clinical trials are either in children, or they're in adults."

Clinical studies, which test medications for safety, dosage and effectiveness, have shown that children can tolerate more intense doses of chemotherapy than adults, he explained. Since people older than 40 are 98% of all adult cancer patients, they make up the overwhelming majority of adult clinical trials.

This means oncologists may be unsure what dose to give a teen or young adult, Grundy says."

In the meantime, it is important for patients to find the support to help them get through cancer. I learned this at my first diagnosis at age 19, when there was no internet or other cancer patients to talk to. By my second diagnosis at 45 I dove in social media to find other cancer people like me.

My points here are for young adult cancer patients:

• You are not alone. Go to social media and find other people who are coping. In addition to 
• Your doctors may not be used to cancer patients your age so speak up, ask questions, ask about side effects.
• Draft a friend, spouse, family member to be your cancer buddy to take with you to doctor appointments to help you digest what you learn at each appointment. 
• Take things one step at a time. Educate yourself in stages. Don't worry about radiation until you get through chemotherapy. Don't worry about chemotherapy until get through surgery.

And if you have cancer and need a shoulder to lean on, try me. Leave me a message with contact info or find me on Facebook. 

In addition to all the social media resources in the article, my favorite one is Stupidcancer.org. 

Time Sense With Cancer

I love xkcd.com

Cancer Friends

For the past two days I have spent time with different cancer friends. I call them cancer friends because I met them all through cancer situations - one group from my old support group and two others I met at different cancer retreats.

What was the gist of all our conversations? Our health and our numbers of ailments. We all have ailments we are coping with. Some of us have new or potential ailments which bring us concern. Some of the ailments are side effects of our cancer treatments. We do not all have cancer concerns right now but that always lurk in the background. And we all know it will never go away.

We shared test results, doctor opinions, traded doctor referrals, and shared our concerns. We tell our medical concerns that we may not have yet shared elsewhere. Our ailments are not all cancer related  We got bolstered through our conversations. They were like mini support groups.

This is the benefit from cancer friends. Cancer is not something to do alone. You need cancer friends to get through it. Then they become life long friends.

I'm having lunch with another cancer friend next week to look forward to. More emotional support for both of us.

The Road Through Chemo

Everyone's road through chemotherapy is a bit unique. We all face our demons of nausea, fatigue, hair loss, and emotional ups and downs differently. We struggle through. And then we somehow make it

I am always interested in hearing about other's chemo misadventures. Stephen Blyth wrote about his chemo story in the Boston Globe. He begins with the advice from the National Cancer Institute:

"The National Cancer Institute tries to be helpful: “At some point during chemotherapy, you may feel: Anxious; Depressed; Afraid; Angry; Frustrated; Helpless; Lonely. It is normal to have a wide range of feelings while going through chemotherapy. After all, living with cancer and getting treatment can be stressful.”

These words made me want to yell. Do they not understand? It is not remotely normal to see only bleakness, to be continuously angst-ridden, and to lack the spirit even to say good night to my precious daughters.

“Many people find that light exercise, such as walking, riding a bike and doing yoga, helps them feel better.” This advice enraged me: The very idea of exercise was laughable. Each night I would resolve to walk round the block tomorrow. But in the morning I would lie unable to rise, unable to sleep, taunted by piles of unread, unreadable books by my bed. 2.30 p.m. 5 p.m. A shuffle downstairs for a bowl of cereal, the act of eating an unexpected respite, then back to bed. My wife was unwavering in the face of such misery: You will feel better, it will all be OK. I knew she believed this, but I did not."

He clearly starts faced with the fact that much of the advice for cancer patients comes from people who do not have a clue. Clearly the advice from NCI is in that category. This is one of the things that all cancer patients learn - people who haven't walked the walk, are unable to talk to the talk. They do not have a clue.

But as you read through his story you see how he learns to get through it. He gets a good social worker who gives him advice and supports him as he goes through his infusion. Her advice is one task a week - send one email. That makes things manageable. I can relate. I could do one thing a week while in chemo.

He learned that it is normal to deal with the emotional side of chemo. He meets a new friend along the way who told him when he went through chemo for lymphoma, he struggled as well emotionally. "“I found the nonphysical effects of chemo the hardest. Psychologically I fell apart.” I felt another flash of self-compassion. So it’s OK to be like this. I had been given a lifeline." 

Finally he makes it through. His brain starts to clear, he is returning to life. I cannot say returning to normal because you can't. I just really like his descriptions of his chemo adventure. He put into words what I could not - the ups and downs of cancer.

Cancer Discrimination and Bias

We live in a society full of bias which leads to racism, discrimination, fear and hatred. The media recently has reflected this with headlines full of racism, bias, discrimination, alt-right vs alt-left, protests, anti-protests, riots, deaths, fear, hatred and more. But it reminds me that there is bias, fear, and discrimination for those of us with cancer.

We are born one way and learn about bias, fear, and discrimination based on where we start. With a cancer diagnosis, all of this is turned upside down and we learn about more bias, fear and discrimination based on that single word 'cancer'.

First, let me say times are changing and it is getting better for those of us with cancer. I met a young woman once who was diagnosed with thyroid cancer at age 17 about 1980s. Her parents were embarrassed that their family member (daughter) had cancer and never told her and never allowed he to have the appropriate follow up treatment, radioactive iodine. She has had multiple recurrences since. Times are certainly better but not perfect, as seen in today's headlines.

For those of us with cancer, we face these issues all the time:

Fear: how many of you have been avoided after your cancer diagnosis? All? I think so. Those are the 'friends' who are scared cancer is 'catching'. Or they do not know how to react to someone with cancer.

Discrimination: Don't tell your current or any potential boss you have cancer or you will face discrimination somewhere along the line. "She's a perfect candidate, but with her health will she be able to do the job long term? She will probably need a lot of time off for doctor appointments." This is illegal but it happens. Its not shouted but whispered. And all it takes is one person to think this who looks at your resume to put it in the discard pile to seal your fate.

Bias: You are sick so obviously cannot be expected to be in with the 'cool kids' any more. You are in with the dweebs at the back of the class again. Your social fate is also doomed. And those who welcome you are doing so with phony smiles over their secret fears.

With our cancer diagnoses under our belts, we learn who are friends are and go forward with them to face the fear, discrimination, and bias that is now in our lives forever. With big smiles on our faces.

Cancer Spans Everything

Cancer brings us together and rips us apart. Cancer knows no boundaries - it crosses race, age, sex, families, and even politics.

Cancer can bring people together. To those with cancer, it is an instant bond to others with the disease. You can walk into a chemo waiting room, a support group, a fundraiser, or whatever. All of us with cancer instantly have something to talk about and unit together. It can join a family who is faced with the impending death of a loved one to repair broken or damaged family bonds.

Cancer can also rip us apart. For those selfish or inconsiderate enough not to care about others, they do not notice that someone is ill and in treatment. It can rip family members apart. I know several couples who split up when a cancer diagnosis hit their family simply because one of them could not handle the stress on their diagnosis.

However, cancer is not a nice thing. It takes people away from their friends and family too soon. It causes all kinds of pain and suffering to the patient.

But we need to remember it can bring us together. We need to remember this. John McCain, as Ted Kennedy did earlier, got up and said its time to work together. What does it take for us to remember cancer has no boundaries.

When Are We Done Healing and Grieving After A Cancer Diagnosis?

Is there supposed to be a secret moment that you reach and realize that you are done healing and grieving after a cancer diagnosis? I know there are the five stages of grief or whatever where you end up at acceptance. But does that mean you are done healing and grieving and don't carry around your emotional and physical scars?

I think probably after a good 20 or 30 years or so most surgical scars are pretty much invisible but I am not sure about the emotional ones. We carry those around a lot longer. We may reach acceptance but that doesn't mean we are emotional healed. The wounds run very deep.

This summer marks 36 years since my first cancer diagnosis and ten years from my second. Do I feel healed and am done grieving? I don't know. How are we supposed to know?

I am not talking about thinking back to the "what if's", "what if I didn't get cancer?" We can't undo a cancer diagnosis. Its not the physical scars or the loss of body parts.

Its the "how did cancer change me?" If you think about this, before cancer would you have:

• made friends with the same people who you met through your cancer?
• done the same actions - a cancer walk/ride/retreat?
• become an advocate and called your senator regularly?

This is how cancer changed us emotionally. Is the annual cancer walk that you do part of your healing and grieving where you end up being one of the recognized survivors afterwards? Would you have done that same activity? 

I am not sure how well I am explaining my feelings on this but I am not sure we ever get past a cancer diagnosis even if we have reached that 'acceptance' when you went back to that 'new' normal.

Emotional Stress

About a year ago, I met a young woman who had had cancer since age 18 when she was diagnosed with an inherited pancreatic cancer. She had never thought she would make it to 40. But last year she did make it to 39 so she had lots of hope. Until last fall when everything changed.

In the fall, she found out nothing more could be done and she would be on hospice until the end. She got hospice at home and slowly began to decline. All of us who knew her were on pins and needles waiting and hoping. We got periodic updates on how she was doing. She was losing weight, she was not eating much, she wasn't getting out of bed much.

Then we would talk to her and she would tell us about how she is doing. She sounded fine. She admitted to being thinner and not eating much. We would hear she couldn't really get out of bed much anymore.

We realized that (a) she has been on hospice for six months, and (b) she should be close to her 40th birthday - something she never thought she would attain. Who ever thought someone would be on hospice for six months? Most people I know who go on hospice, last a few days or maybe a couple of weeks. Not six months!

In the meantime, we are all very happy she is still with us. We want to confirm the exact date of her birthday so we can make sure we celebrate it. But seriously, we are on pins and needles. We knew her too well. We knew about her cancer struggles and her family issues. She doesn't live close enough to any of us so we can just drop by. Phone contact is iffy because we don't want to wake her and she can't talk if her caretakers are there - which we never know.

How are we going to feel when the end happens? We like her and want the best for her. But this long decline is getting harder and harder to deal with. We talk about her and we care. Because we care, the emotional stress is building, the longer this she lasts.

With cancer, you have to deal with your own emotional stress. And you make new cancer friends once you are armed with your diagnosis and you share your roller coasters together. You share your emotions.

As time passes when I know I have a friend who is waiting for the end. She isn't fighting a battle or being a warrior. She is a young woman facing a terminal diagnosis which is nearing as each day passes. And as I am a friend, I am sharing it with her. And sharing her emotions too.

Our Cancer Friends Become Most Important

After years of living in cancerland, I have learned our cancer friends become most important. Before cancer, you meet someone with a cancer diagnosis, and you can get stuck in this awkward pause thing.

Am I supposed to ask how they are doing? Or will they think I am prying? Do I mention cancer, or not? Do ask I when they are going to a hospice? Do I ask to bring them a casserole? You aren't really sure. And you really do not want to offend them, because, well, they have CANCER! And you cut them some slack if they aren't up for socializing.... is cancer catching?

Once you have a cancer diagnosis under your belt, you understand and realize that you probably won't say anything stupid, like all those other non-cancer people have said to you, like 'are you dying?' Or, 'do you know how long you have?'. You realize you can be yourself and crack stupid jokes about medical professionals and how other people don't understand your life.

Before cancer when you meet someone you might be a bit reticent because you don't really know them. But when both of you have cancer, you can start talking right away. You have a mutual topic of conversation. The first topic usually is how treatment is going or how the rest of your family doesn't get it.

Your cancer friends understand you like no one else. You can talk to them about those 'holy crap' moments at 3 AM (doesn't everyone wake up and think the cancer cooties have returned?) You can call them when you think something 'bad' is going on. And you call them first, when you get good news from your oncologist (who is your other best friend).

Slowly your cancer friends become some of your closest friends in your life. Once a cancer friend has 'held your hand' through another roller coaster ride, you are bonded for life. You will always reconnect to them, no matter how much time or how many miles have kept you apart. You are happy to get together with them at a drop of a hat.

While cancer may kill us, it creates a bond like no other with others who are going through the same thing.

Coping

Because I had an awful cold over the holidays , we postponed Christmas. It was yesterday for our family. It meant a ton of cooking, houseguests, and a big  family meal with three generations. It was nice. But I am exhausted. We have enough leftovers for a week. That means I don't have to cook all week. And can nap.  Daily. I am exhausted (did I say that already?)

Friday at the gym I was seated on the stepper next to one of the local 'characters' who reminded me that we need to treasure those family events because not everyone will be there forever and we need to appreciate them why they are here.

Yesterday I enjoyed time with my family. Then this morning I woke to the sad news that a friend who I met through Relay for Life in 2009 (I think) while she was finishing high school and was of the key people involved. After she finished high school,  she went to New York for a while until she started having some digestion problems. She came home and found she had liver cancer. She had multiplesurgeries, months in the hospital, and lost her life this morning at age 25.

A death at that age reminds me of the advice at the gym, appreciate  your times with those you care for.

Friends

We all have our best friends, our close friends, our coffee pals, our nod across the street friends, and our sort of friends. Then us special people have our cancer friends.

I have two best friends, one from college who has lived 1000 miles away for the last 20+ years. We get together as often as we can, to cause trouble until about 9pm when we get tired and go to bed early. My other best friend lives about half an hour away. We can't get together to often because she has a big career and child and her husband works long hours as well. We do get together for lunch and shopping as much as we can. Both of them are the ones I call to catch up and talk about life.

But then I have cancer friends. They are the ones I get together to talk about life, cancer, and the havoc it has wreaked on out lives. They are also the ones we call when we have those momentary  cancer freak outs. You can't have cancer and never freak out. It's just not possible.

It doesn't matter how long it's been since you have talked to your  cancer friends, because they will answer the phone and tell you that you aren't crazy. They will virtually hold your hand at the worst moments in your life. Because they know you will do it for them.

What is the Saying? Hold your friends close and your enemies closer? It should be added that you should hold your cancer friends even closer. 

Vanessa Bayer

I can tell you I am not Vanessa Bayer's biggest fan, because I honestly do not stay up until midnight to watch the show (waaaayyyy past my bedtime). But I am suddenly a hug fan of her openness regarding her leukemia diagnosis.

I was getting my hair cut this week and had a chance to catch up on the latest magazines, including People. 

"When Vanessa Bayer was just freshman in high school, she was diagnosed with leukemia. While the news was a shock for her and her family, Bayer says her cancer battle ultimately led her to a career in comedy.

“I wasn’t really that scared,” Bayer says in the latest issue of PEOPLE. “My dad is a really funny guy, and we would make jokes about my leukemia. When my friends would come over we would joke about it too. It’s sort of messed up out of context, but it put everybody at ease. Being sick is the reason I went into comedy.”"

She went from being a Make-A-Wish kid to a career in comedy and she's still here. 

Also, I really want to say that I am so happy to hear about another person who had cancer while young and is being very open about it. I think that the world is a better place if people do not keep their illnesses quiet. There is nothing wrong with talking about your medical ailments. And you probably are a lot healthier if you do talk about your medical issues. 

But anyway, I am now one of her biggest fans.

Most Embarrassing Cancer Moments

I think everyone has embarrassing moments in their life. I mean who didn't awkwardly walk into a wall at one point, trip as they entered a room or a building, or realized you got home and you had a toothpaste stain on your shirt since morning - after having a big meeting at work.

My famous embarrassing moments in life include also coming back to the hotel at the end a day at a very busy and important conference and realizing I had been wearing one blue shoe and one black shoe all day long.

But my mortifying cancer moments include:

• Needing a quick appointment with  my cancer surgeon and realizing after he didn't come back for 1.5 hours in the exam room that maybe I was really done with that appointment. (Yes I waited for that long before going to ask the nurses if he was coming back.) And then I had to wait longer for him to come back and tell me that everything was okay. So much for a quick appointment.
• While riding home from chemo with my husband driving, we stopped at a light. When my husband pulled away from the light my wig went flying in to the back seat! Leaving me bald in the front seat.
• After waking up in post op after my thyroid cancer surgery, I was not upset not because I had cancer but because I was wearing a clean gown and the doctors and nurses therefore had seen me naked. (Talk about twisted priorities!)

Those are all I can remember at this point. But I am sure there are more. I hope other cancer people can relate.....

Changing Stressors

As life goes on, my stressors have changed. Or maybe just the list gets rearranged. When I first started blogging, breast cancer was my primary concern. But then my health started to fall apart and things have changed.

At my breast cancer diagnosis, I quickly prepared myself to cope with breast cancer and I came up with a plan - support groups, etc. And I dealt with it. 

Then I got gall stones and had my gall bladder out. Then I found out I should be seeing an endocrinologist about my thyroid cancer which made it harder for me to ignore it. When I went to one she sent me for an ultrasound which found some thing on the thyroid bed which we had to follow and it stressed me out for a while. Then my back started hurting. then I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and rheumatoid... Somewhere in there I got a root canal too....

Where am I going with this? I had lunch with two breast cancer friends this week. One of them has  multiple other current health issues. We were talking about them and she said that breast cancer was the last thing on her mind these days. She needs to get the rest of them fixed so she can back to worrying about breast cancer.

For me, my stressors now revolve between what is my current worst (usually health) problem. It can change daily. I sort of hang on during my roller coaster ride. 

So how do I cope? I have created my own little support world. I burn off stress by going to the gym three times each week. I have a therapist I see monthly. I have a meds therapist (with the good drugs) to keep me sane. I have a weekly knitting group at a local cancer center. We all are coping with cancer. I also get together with my other 'unhealthy' friends and we hang out and talk bitch about our health concerns.

Since I can't be healthy, I just try to keep my sanity. If at all possible.