Last night, I had a bout of complain-itis.
I whined to Jeff that I am officially sick and tired of being sick and tired. I’m tired of having excessively dry skin. I’m tired of my digestive tract being in a constant state of turmoil. I’m tired of being so physically exhausted that it takes me two hours to run to the post office and back. I had to shave my head again because the hair that remained is growing in as some sort of fuzzy down feather concoction while the hair that fell out isn’t coming back in yet. I decided to buzz it down to avoid looking like a fuzzy bowling ball with bald spots.
Plus, my next chemo treatment is coming up in about ten days, and I’m really dreading it. I should be looking forward to it, because it’s the last scheduled treatment. I’m dreading the nausea and vomiting and generally horrible feeling that comes for a week after treatment. My body hates these treatments so much now that I actually get anticipation sickness – feelings of nausea and the metallic taste in my mouth – days beforehand. This is common among chemo patients as, apparently, the memory center of brain triggers these symptoms in reaction to the anticipation you have about an upcoming treatment. Joy of joys! Not only do I have to deal with the nausea and metallic taste due to the actual treatment, I also get to feel sick a few days ahead of time, too.
Jeff’s response when I complain about chemo? “Go for the treatment and get better or don’t go for treatment and don’t get better, so really there’s no choice.”
This response makes me think about the choices you have as a cancer patient. When I talk to people about my cancer diagnosis and treatment, it is not uncommon that they respond with, “You’re so brave to go through that” or “I don’t think I could handle chemotherapy” or something along those lines. A lot of people think they couldn’t deal with the treatment and wouldn’t be able to go through with it.
The truth is, they would be able to do it and are braver than they think. In fact, I honestly cannot think of anyone in my life who wouldn’t immediately choose to start chemotherapy as soon as possible if they were in my position a few months ago. Not one. There really isn’t a choice to make in that situation at all.
That said, there is some latitude as far as the type of treatment that you decide to pursue. If you’re like me and completely trust your oncologist, you will go through with whatever combination of chemotherapy and radiation that they think is appropriate. Time was really not on my side – my tumor was growing so quickly that I really didn’t have the option of getting a second opinion, not that I wanted to. Other people opt to seek out second opinions and perhaps land on a different type of chemo that they feel will be better for them and their lifestyle. Some seek out a combination of chemotherapy/radiation and holistic treatments, like meditation, massage therapy, acupuncture, and herbal supplements. Others still believe that chemotherapy and radiation are poisons that shouldn’t be used to treat cancer and instead decide to only pursue holistic/naturopathic treatments. (By the way, before my own cancer diagnosis, the biologist in me used to think these people were just plain nutty. Now, I think every patient needs to do what’s right for them and will get them through each day. To each their own. How very zen master!)
Outside of how you decide to pursue your treatment, the only real choice you have as a cancer patient is about the attitude you have towards your treatment and the disease. I chose to be proactive and positive about 10 minutes after learning I had a tumor in my chest. In my mind, there wasn’t really any other option. What good was it going to do me to wallow in self pity and to pull the “woe is me” routine? Absolutely none. I have nothing to gain by being a sad sack and everything to gain by being my own best advocate in my treatment and being confident from the start that I am going to beat cancer.
Along with that positive attitude comes using comedy as a coping mechanism. Jeff and I do this to deal with pretty much every situation in our lives, good and bad, and my cancer diagnosis is no different. I know this doesn’t work for everyone, and in fact, there has been more than one occasion in which our cancer jokes have been a little off-putting for those around us. Oddly, some people don’t think it’s funny when I say something like, “What? It’s not like I have cancer or anything….oh wait” or Jeff says, “You know what I just realized? Pitbull looks like a 30 year old woman with cancer”. (Actually, I didn’t think that one was particularly funny. I also didn’t like, at first, that he called me Little Stevie when I wore a head scarf for the first time. I think I’m too sensitive about my bald head.) It’s an acquired taste, and I know that. But, that doesn’t stop us from making jokes because it makes us feel better and I honestly think that, ultimately, it does make most people comfortable around me.
When I was diagnosed, I was so set on positivity in my life that I instituted a no crying and negativity rule for those around me. I told my parents and Jeff that anyone could visit or call me, but they couldn’t cry and they couldn’t be negative about my diagnosis and treatment. I didn’t want to hear it – period. I know what all the possibilities are surrounding cancer – bad side effects from chemo/radiation, time away from work and doing things I enjoy, the possibility that my treatments wouldn’t work, and ultimately, I could die from this. I didn’t need to be reminded of any of those things. That said, I also can’t tell people how to feel about my diagnosis and what I’m going through. If they want to be sad about the fact that I was diagnosed with cancer, that’s fine. They just don’t need to bring that attitude in my house. For all intents and purposes, I am the Dikembe Motumbo of cancer.
All of that said, there are times, like last night, when I am frustrated or negative thoughts begin to creep in. This often happens when I’m reading other patients’ blogs or I hear stories about cancer patients that don’t have the best ending. I would be lying if I said I never once wondered, “What if I am in the 10-15% of diffuse large B cell patients of my age group that isn’t cured?” or “What if I’m one of the 10% who has a recurrence?” Fortunately, I’m able to just mentally acknowledge those thoughts and then focus on the positive. A few deep breaths usually help, too.
As I’ve said before, it’s easier for me to feel this way because my prognosis is very good and this is the first time (and hopefully last) I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. It is obviously not nearly as easy when you’ve had a recurrence or a diagnosis of a completely different type of cancer after being in remission for several years. Last night, in the middle of my complain-itis, I watched the season premiere of World of Jenks on MTV. This season includes the story of Kaylin, a woman in her 20’s who was originally diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma, went into remission, and then was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, for which she underwent an intense surgery. Unfortunately, she was recently diagnosed with a recurrence of Ewing’s sarcoma. She writes a really great blog called Cancer is Hilarious that chronicles all of this. It is interesting to read about how another patient who is close to my age is going through her treatment for the third time, but mostly, her story reminds me that I’m lucky in that my prognosis is very good and my treatment has been relatively complication free so far. This certainly put things into perspective.