This post is dedicated to all they people asking "why holistic?". Let me explain.
I was unbelievably fearful of making any decision at all. I knew I didn't want to make decisions out of fear. I wanted to be able to make decisions based on facts.
The short answer is prayer led me to the decision, but let's expand on why I would be drawn to a holistic approach to begin with.
Let's pretend for a minute. You're sitting in an exam room at your doctor's office. He or she walks in and says "you have c*****". "But don't worry", says the doctor, "you have options". (Keep in mind this is just pretend.)
Option A: You can choose to change your diet, exercise, and take supplements. You'll feel great, have more energy, super charge you immune system, and lose weight. You'll need to take personal responsibility for your health. You won't lose your hair. There are no negative side effects.
Option B: You can choose chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery or some combination of the three, depending on your situation. You'll have periods of being very sick to your stomach and gastrointestinal issues. Your ovaries will stop working and possibly have damage to your heart, liver, and kidneys. Your hair will fall out. Your immune system will be completely shot. You'll be tired just about all the time. There's a possibility that you'll develop leukemia as a result of the chemicals we'll give you. The drugs will be excreted through all your bodily fluids, so be sure to wash all your clothes separately. Don't share towels or wash clothes. You won't be able to share a bed with your spouse for a week after the chemo treatments. Change the bed linens before letting anyone lay in your bed. Be sure to flush the toilet two or three times after every use. And don't let anyone eat or drink after you. (All of these things were told to me by my second set of doctors and I also read recommendations for precautions after chemo. Look it up if you don't believe me.) You won't have to worry about anything.You'll be able to eat or drink whatever you want. We'll take care of it all with our drugs.
Those are just the side effects from the chemotherapy, and doesn't include any side effects from surgery or radiation.
If you could achieve the same results, being c*****-free, which I believe you can, with option A or B which one would you choose?
But wait, there's one problem. You don't believe that option A will work. Why would you? We've been told all our lives that option B is the only way. If option A worked why don't doctors tell you about it? Why do they tell you you're crazy when you turn down their treatments? I definitely have my own theories about this but that's a subject for another post.
Maybe you know someone or have heard of someone who tried option A and wasn't successful, leaving you believing that it doesn't work for anyone. Guess what? Not everyone who tries option B makes it either. There are risks involved in absolutely everything we do. Nothing is a guarantee.
Is option A for everyone? No. And I accept that. Just because I prayed and came to the conclusion that this is what I am supposed to do, doesn't mean it's what everyone is supposed to do.
So just as option A might not be for you, option B isn't for me, as hard as that is for some of you to understand.
My advice to you is to be proactive. Decide now which option you would want if God forbid you find yourself in my situation, A or B.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Game On!
It was a long, quiet drive to meet with the new doctor Monday afternoon. As I was driving the nearly 50 miles, I had plenty of time to think. Bob had even commented on how quiet I was, since normally I'm not. I was apprehensive that this meeting would be a waste of my time. I had had such high hopes when I made the decision to go to the C***** Treatment Centers of America in Chicago, only to be disappointed that it wasn't what I had expected it to be. Would this, too, just be more time and money wasted?
The doctor I met with was an older gentleman who has probably been practicing medicine for close to 50 years. 50 years, that's a pretty long time. He started his career as an ears/nose/throat doctor but quickly became interested more in how allergies were affecting his patients. He then became certified in environmental medicine and educated in applied kinesiology muscle testing. For those of you unaware of what that is, it's a pretty cool technique in alternative medicine used to be able to diagnose illness or choice of treatment by testing muscles for strength and weakness. It may seem hokey to some people, but not me. I felt like I was finally in the right place. I was impressed by his extensive knowledge of holistic medicine and comforted by his concern for my overall health.
Many of the natural survivor stories I have been reading mentioned vitamin C IV's as part of their treatment. He suggested not only vitamin C but hydrogen peroxide as well. I now have strips to test my ph levels. And what about monitoring? He gave me the number of a place where I can have thermal imaging to monitor my progress. Awesome!! I'm set.
There is a down side to going the natural route. Money. My health insurance won't pay for any of it. I'm not worried about how I will come up with the money. I have seen God's hand in this from the very beginning. I know all my needs will be met. But to give everyone a better understanding of why I have set up a fund for donations, I'll explain the costs involved with my treatment.
My supplements for a one month supply- $800. Weekly IV treatments $100 each time x4 - $400. Thermal imaging to monitor- $160. Doctor appointments (separate from treatments), missed days at work, travel expenses (100 miles round trip), organic produce in large quantities for juicing. I'm sure there are things I'm missing, but you get the point. It all adds up pretty quickly.
Do I expect everyone to give? No, not at all. But for those who do feel compelled to give, your giving spirit and generosity is greatly appreciated.
As I laid in my bed very sick after my second chemo treatment, I wondered "how am I supposed to fight this feeling so awful", I surely felt like "it" had the upper hand. Not anymore...Game on
The doctor I met with was an older gentleman who has probably been practicing medicine for close to 50 years. 50 years, that's a pretty long time. He started his career as an ears/nose/throat doctor but quickly became interested more in how allergies were affecting his patients. He then became certified in environmental medicine and educated in applied kinesiology muscle testing. For those of you unaware of what that is, it's a pretty cool technique in alternative medicine used to be able to diagnose illness or choice of treatment by testing muscles for strength and weakness. It may seem hokey to some people, but not me. I felt like I was finally in the right place. I was impressed by his extensive knowledge of holistic medicine and comforted by his concern for my overall health.
Many of the natural survivor stories I have been reading mentioned vitamin C IV's as part of their treatment. He suggested not only vitamin C but hydrogen peroxide as well. I now have strips to test my ph levels. And what about monitoring? He gave me the number of a place where I can have thermal imaging to monitor my progress. Awesome!! I'm set.
There is a down side to going the natural route. Money. My health insurance won't pay for any of it. I'm not worried about how I will come up with the money. I have seen God's hand in this from the very beginning. I know all my needs will be met. But to give everyone a better understanding of why I have set up a fund for donations, I'll explain the costs involved with my treatment.
My supplements for a one month supply- $800. Weekly IV treatments $100 each time x4 - $400. Thermal imaging to monitor- $160. Doctor appointments (separate from treatments), missed days at work, travel expenses (100 miles round trip), organic produce in large quantities for juicing. I'm sure there are things I'm missing, but you get the point. It all adds up pretty quickly.
Do I expect everyone to give? No, not at all. But for those who do feel compelled to give, your giving spirit and generosity is greatly appreciated.
As I laid in my bed very sick after my second chemo treatment, I wondered "how am I supposed to fight this feeling so awful", I surely felt like "it" had the upper hand. Not anymore...Game on
Saturday, April 20, 2013
What's the Plan?
A couple of weeks ago I decided I was ditching the medical doctors and their conventional treatments to heal my body using a holistic approach. I received some resistance from my family, but mostly people have honored my request to respect my decision. Hopefully by sharing the stories of others who have cured their c***** without the use of chemotherapy and radiation, I have helped people understand my decision a little better, even if it's not what they would choose.
I asked Bob frequently throughout this process what he thought I should do - medical or holistic. His answer was always the same, it had to be my decision. It was way too personal for him to choose for me. And he was right. The path that led me to choose no more chemo was indeed a very personal one.
I was surprised at what a hard decision it was for me. I always thought I would choose an alternative route given our experiences we've had with our children and food. I knew first hand the impact changing a diet could have.
From the time my Aiden, who is now 9 years old, was wee little, we knew something wasn't quite right. He was extremely hyper, had unintelligible speech, frequent meltdowns, and was showing signs of having a learning disability. He was 4 years old and couldn't count to three despite all our efforts. Our family and friends had labeled him "the bad one".
Around this time, five years ago, we changed how we ate. I had come across an organization called the Feingold Association. Dr. Feingold had overwhelming evidence that the artificial ingredients, food colorings and preservatives, in foods could severely impact health and behavior, and could even cause learning problems. Within two weeks of switching our food I had a completely different child. He was so calm that people questioned whether I had put him on medication. He was even counting to ten. We saw significant changes in all five of our children that we didn't even know were being affected.
This started my quest to know more and led to me watching many documentaries dealing with food. This is when I first learned of the Gerson Institute and their natural approaches to healing c*****. The nutritionist who is assisting me in my journey is actually a friend of Charlotte Gerson and uses many of the same therapies.
Since my diagnosis, I have read and watched a lot more on the subject. I plan to incorporate several different methods, so long as they don't interfere with each other. As of now this is what I am doing. I am on a strict, raw foods, vegan diet of alkalizing foods. I take lots of vitamin and mineral supplements (60-70 a day) and drink an herbal concoction at bedtime. I also drink Essiac tea twice a day. It's important to get lots of fresh air and sun, at least an hour a day. I wish the weather was a little more cooperative. I haven't had the energy, but exercise is next on my list. Supposedly, rebounding (jumping on a mini-trampoline) is very good for your lymphatic system, 7-10 minutes three times a day. And I juice, mostly carrots, 64 oz a day. I pray, several times a day, and spend time reading my Bible. Everything I put into or on my body is for the purpose of healing. I used to live to eat, now I am eating to live, quite literally.
Monday, April 22, I have an appointment with the doctor that will be overseeing and monitoring my progress. He has a medical license which means he is able to order blood work and tests as necessary, but he practices holistic medicine. I'll share his thoughts afterwards.
I asked Bob frequently throughout this process what he thought I should do - medical or holistic. His answer was always the same, it had to be my decision. It was way too personal for him to choose for me. And he was right. The path that led me to choose no more chemo was indeed a very personal one.
I was surprised at what a hard decision it was for me. I always thought I would choose an alternative route given our experiences we've had with our children and food. I knew first hand the impact changing a diet could have.
From the time my Aiden, who is now 9 years old, was wee little, we knew something wasn't quite right. He was extremely hyper, had unintelligible speech, frequent meltdowns, and was showing signs of having a learning disability. He was 4 years old and couldn't count to three despite all our efforts. Our family and friends had labeled him "the bad one".
Around this time, five years ago, we changed how we ate. I had come across an organization called the Feingold Association. Dr. Feingold had overwhelming evidence that the artificial ingredients, food colorings and preservatives, in foods could severely impact health and behavior, and could even cause learning problems. Within two weeks of switching our food I had a completely different child. He was so calm that people questioned whether I had put him on medication. He was even counting to ten. We saw significant changes in all five of our children that we didn't even know were being affected.
This started my quest to know more and led to me watching many documentaries dealing with food. This is when I first learned of the Gerson Institute and their natural approaches to healing c*****. The nutritionist who is assisting me in my journey is actually a friend of Charlotte Gerson and uses many of the same therapies.
Since my diagnosis, I have read and watched a lot more on the subject. I plan to incorporate several different methods, so long as they don't interfere with each other. As of now this is what I am doing. I am on a strict, raw foods, vegan diet of alkalizing foods. I take lots of vitamin and mineral supplements (60-70 a day) and drink an herbal concoction at bedtime. I also drink Essiac tea twice a day. It's important to get lots of fresh air and sun, at least an hour a day. I wish the weather was a little more cooperative. I haven't had the energy, but exercise is next on my list. Supposedly, rebounding (jumping on a mini-trampoline) is very good for your lymphatic system, 7-10 minutes three times a day. And I juice, mostly carrots, 64 oz a day. I pray, several times a day, and spend time reading my Bible. Everything I put into or on my body is for the purpose of healing. I used to live to eat, now I am eating to live, quite literally.
Monday, April 22, I have an appointment with the doctor that will be overseeing and monitoring my progress. He has a medical license which means he is able to order blood work and tests as necessary, but he practices holistic medicine. I'll share his thoughts afterwards.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Final Survivor Story
If you have been to my Facebook page you are aware that I have been sharing one story a day for the past week of people who have cured their c***** naturally. This is the final story I'd like to share with you. Some of you are going to judge this father for the methods he used to cure his son, but what parent wouldn't do everything possible to save their child's life. And the fact is, it worked.
This story is also from the free e-book "25 Cancer Survivors' Stories"
Cash Hyde
Cash Hyde, a young boy from Missoula Montana, was only 20 months old when he was diagnosed with a highly aggressive stage 4 brain tumor surrounding his optic nerve. The doctors gave him very little hope of survival. They gave him seven different chemotherapy drugs and among other impacts this caused Cash to suffer septic shock, a stroke and heavy hemorrhaging of his lungs. He was given the highest possible doses of chemotherapy for two months. Cash was so sick that he didn't eat anything for 40 days. In the end the sight of his son’s suffering was more than he could take and his father, Mike, asked them to stop the treatment.Without telling them what he planned, Mike decided to try out something on his own. He didn't tell the doctors because he knew they would oppose it. Mike bought some marijuana and boiled it in olive oil. He then added this in small doses of around half a teaspoon each time to his son’s feeding tube. His father reported the impact in these words: ‘Not only was it helpful, it was a godsend. Within two weeks he was weaned off all the nausea drugs and he was eating again and sitting up in bed and laughing.’ When he admitted what he had done the doctors continued to prescribe the cannabis—for his nausea. In February 2011, news reports announced that young Cash was still in remission. If he recovers the doctors will of course claim that the chemo. did the trick. But although the cannabis is being prescribed as an anti-nausea medication, it has a strong anti-cancer effect of its own (see discussion of cannabis in Book 5 in this series: Cancer: Herbs, Botanicals and Biological Therapies). Mike Hyde has set up the Cash Hyde Foundation to promote the medical use of cannabis, which remains such a contentious subject.--------the end.
If you doubt the credibility of one person's story claiming that hemp oil cures c*****, watch "Run From the Cure" available on YouTube.
My point in sharing these stories with you was to show you there are many ways in which people have rid themselves of c***** and in many cases when modern medicine couldn't. I hope I have alleviated the fear I know some of you immediately felt when I announced I wouldn't be getting chemotherapy anymore. And perhaps I have even proven I'm not as crazy as you all may have originally thought.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Survivor Story
After deciding to not have chemotherapy any more I began to look up everything I could on holistic approaches to healing c*****. One of the many websites I have come across is the story of a man named Chris that I shared on my Facebook page. Chris had stage 3 colon c*****, refused chemo, and today is cancer-free. He has a website - chrisbeatc*****.com- where he shares not only his story but the stories of others who have done the same. I have posted a few of those stories on my Facebook page as well. It was from his website that I was able to download a free e-book entitled "25 C***** Survivors' Stories". The following story is taken from that book.
Elonna McKibben
In 1989, having taken fertility treatment, Elonna found herself pregnant with
quins. However, as the pregnancy progressed, Elonna began feeling deepseated
pains. It was eventually discovered, after the birth of her children, that
the pains were not a side effect of her pregnancy—the exceptional nature of
which had camouflaged the fact that she had a tumour on her spine.
This was diagnosed as stage 4 glioblastoma multiforme (GBM), a very rare
and always fatal cancer. ‘As mine was in the spinal cord,’ Elonna wrote later, ‘it
made it even more rare, more aggressive and faster killing. I was told I would
not survive long enough to see my children’s first birthday.’
If that was not bad enough, the combined effect of the surgery and cancer
had left her paralysed from the waist down. The doctors recommended
radiation but were not hopeful that it would do more than delay the inevitable.
Fortunately, someone who read about her situation in the newspaper
contacted her husband, Rob, and told him about CanCell. Elonna was naturally
very sceptical: ‘If there was a cure for cancer, don’t you think they would be
using it instead of letting thousands of people die.’
However, she started taking it on the basis that she had nothing to lose
and everything to gain. Its effects were quickly obvious. ‘I began to eliminate
the cancer waste product about 18 hours after my first dose. It literally poured
out of me: I threw it up; my bowel movements were extremely loose, stringy
and frequent throughout the day; I lost it in my urine; my nose ran so much I
had to keep a tissue with me at all times; I sweated it out profusely; I had
hot/cold flashes and night sweats. When the nurses would give me a sponge
bath after a night sweat, the water would be a golden brown colour with what
they referred to as ‘tapioca balls’ floating in it.’
Despite these side-effects she persevered with the CanCell. After several
weeks she found she was feeling much better. Christmas came and went and
she started to do physical therapy to help her mobility. Then, in February 1990
she had scans to see what was happening. The radiologist was stunned to find
no trace of the cancer. Despite being cancer-free, Elonna continued the CanCell
treatment for a further two years. As of September 2011, Elonna McKibben is still
alive, and her full story can be read on her website at www.elonnamckibben.com.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Walking the Walk
It's been 15 days since my last treatment. I'm feeling pretty good overall. The nausea is completely gone and food is tasting like food again. I have lots of energy when my day starts, but by the afternoon I'm tired and ready for a nap.
I enjoyed doing some normal mommy things this morning. I went to the boys' soccer games, took three of the kids to get new shoes, and even got some cleaning done around the house. Then, my body said it was done.
Aside from updating about how I am feeling physically, I also wanted to update everyone on an important decision I have made.
After the last treatment, as I had mentioned in a previous post, I spent an entire day in bed, sick from the side effects. I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. I listened to worship music, read my Bible, and prayed some more. In addition to feeling sick, my heart was torn by the news of having tested positive for the BRAC1 (breast c*****) gene and I needed guidance. I was searching for answers. Answers only God could give me.
Later that night, around 9pm, Bob came in and sat on the edge of the bed. He was just checking to see how I was feeling. What came out of my mouth next was NOT planned. It just flew out. I said "I don't think I'm getting chemo anymore. My last treatment was it." So there it was. I had an answer. An answer that I can only assume came as a result of prayer.
Not getting anymore chemo does not mean I won't be treating the problem. I have been to a holistic doctor who also works with a medical doctor. The medical doctor will be able to order blood work and tests to monitor my progress. I have already implemented many of the steps of my new plan, which I will share with you at another time.
I do sincerely apologize because I know my decision will cause a lot of people to be hurt and scared. I understand most people are not aware of all the options there are for natural cures. I recently read a book that contained stories of 25 people who all cured their cancer, all in different ways. In an attempt to help educate people and hopefully reassure them that I will be okay, I will post articles and links and some of their stories to my Facebook page- same name as this blog.
Since our emotional state plays such a huge role in the healing process, I ask that you please not post any comments, send any emails, private Facebook messages, or texts which could be interpreted as negative. Please do not share stories of people who have tried a holistic approach and failed. I realize in your mind you feel as though you would be helping, but really, you wouldn't be. For every story of someone who tried and failed, I could tell you a hundred stories of people who have tried and are alive and well.
I realize that most of you would not choose this route, and think I am absolutely crazy for doing so, but I am comfortable with my decision. My faith is not in the medical man, nor in the holistic man, but in God. And while I would love your support, I am completely prepared to walk alone. Your prayers are always welcomed, but please respect the decision I have made.
I enjoyed doing some normal mommy things this morning. I went to the boys' soccer games, took three of the kids to get new shoes, and even got some cleaning done around the house. Then, my body said it was done.
Aside from updating about how I am feeling physically, I also wanted to update everyone on an important decision I have made.
After the last treatment, as I had mentioned in a previous post, I spent an entire day in bed, sick from the side effects. I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. I listened to worship music, read my Bible, and prayed some more. In addition to feeling sick, my heart was torn by the news of having tested positive for the BRAC1 (breast c*****) gene and I needed guidance. I was searching for answers. Answers only God could give me.
Later that night, around 9pm, Bob came in and sat on the edge of the bed. He was just checking to see how I was feeling. What came out of my mouth next was NOT planned. It just flew out. I said "I don't think I'm getting chemo anymore. My last treatment was it." So there it was. I had an answer. An answer that I can only assume came as a result of prayer.
Not getting anymore chemo does not mean I won't be treating the problem. I have been to a holistic doctor who also works with a medical doctor. The medical doctor will be able to order blood work and tests to monitor my progress. I have already implemented many of the steps of my new plan, which I will share with you at another time.
I do sincerely apologize because I know my decision will cause a lot of people to be hurt and scared. I understand most people are not aware of all the options there are for natural cures. I recently read a book that contained stories of 25 people who all cured their cancer, all in different ways. In an attempt to help educate people and hopefully reassure them that I will be okay, I will post articles and links and some of their stories to my Facebook page- same name as this blog.
Since our emotional state plays such a huge role in the healing process, I ask that you please not post any comments, send any emails, private Facebook messages, or texts which could be interpreted as negative. Please do not share stories of people who have tried a holistic approach and failed. I realize in your mind you feel as though you would be helping, but really, you wouldn't be. For every story of someone who tried and failed, I could tell you a hundred stories of people who have tried and are alive and well.
I realize that most of you would not choose this route, and think I am absolutely crazy for doing so, but I am comfortable with my decision. My faith is not in the medical man, nor in the holistic man, but in God. And while I would love your support, I am completely prepared to walk alone. Your prayers are always welcomed, but please respect the decision I have made.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
An Individual Doesn't Get Cancer, a Community Does
As I had mentioned in a previous post, my first day back to work in almost two weeks was this past Tuesday. I had taken off time to make my trip to Chicago, which then turned into two trips, and then it was spring break. Having spring break following my chemo treatment conveniently gave me a few extra days off to recover.
I was nervous about making my turban wearing debut. I wasn't sure what the reaction of the students was going to be, even though we had prepped them for this moment. A few weeks prior we, the school counselor and myself, had visited each classroom and talked with all the students. For the younger students we used the words "invisible boo boo", taken from a poem that was written for small children about c*****. The older students, grades 5 and 6, I attempted to use the technical term, invasive ductal carcinoma, but they were very inquisitive and I wasn't about to lie to them. When they asked if it was c*****, I was honest with them and said yes.
It wasn't as if I didn't want them to know what I had. In fact, I didn't mind at all. I have been extremely open with anyone who inquires. If that weren't the case I wouldn't have this blog. But when you're telling someone else's child, and not knowing what experiences they have had or what their association of that word might be, I thought it would be better to try to phrase it differently, in a way that wouldn't seem as frightening. I didn't want any of them to be upset or scared. But since children talk and there are plenty of older students with younger siblings, they are mostly all aware of what I have at this point.
There were two reasons for talking with them. The first was to make them aware of the fact that I was going to look differently in the coming weeks. We explained how I would have to take some medicine that would probably make my hair fall out, but that it wasn't anything to be upset about. I would wear head coverings of every color until eventually my hair grew back.
The second very important reason to talk with them was to explain that they would have to respect my personal space for awhile. If you work in a school you know just how much children love to hug their teachers. You also know how much children, especially the little bitty ones, have their fingers in their mouths and noses. There are always plenty of germs and viruses floating around in schools that I would be very susceptible to when my white blood cell counts are low after chemo. I wanted them to know the reason I couldn't hug them, at least for now.
Overall, that first day back was a positive experience. Sure the kids had questions, but I expected that. Did your hair start falling out Mrs. McCreary? I heard that a lot that first day. I had one fourth grader ask me if I was going to die, to which I just laughed and assured her I wasn't. There was a first grader that told me she knew exactly what I was going through because she had c***** once, too, and apparently her two friends did, also, explaining how it hurt when their hair broke off and fell out. Their innocence just made me smile.
But the very best part to my first day back was the surprise from my coworkers. The entire staff was wearing pink breast c***** awareness t-shirts. They had also started a team in my honor for the walk/run on Mothers' Day.
From the moment I shared my diagnosis they have all been wonderfully supportive and compassionate. They have been providing my family with meals twice a week. I have gotten cards and small gifts. And I recently found out about a fund raising event one individual has planned on my behalf. I am so incredibly blessed to work with such a wonderful group of individuals.
The outpouring of generosity and compassion doesn't end with my coworkers. A few of the teachers from my children's school have sent home dinners on the school bus with the kids. I have received cards and donations from people I have only met a time or two or sometimes not at all. They have heard my story through someone I know and feel compelled to reach out. I really am so appreciative of all the kind words, love and support so many have shown to my family during this time.
Oh yes, and my family...I can't forget about how wonderfully helpful my family has been as well. My in-laws have kept the younger boys to have them complete their homework. My mom has been helping with laundry and I've sent my sisters on shopping trips and airport pickups.
Then, there are my friends. I receive almost daily words of encouragement. I get texts and emails to say "just thinking about you" or "praying for you". Only people who know from experience will ever know what that means to me. There are some days that feel so lonely and those texts and emails carry me through.
And he'll never know it, because words could never express, how grateful I am to have Bob in my life. I had plenty of complaints about Bob, as I'm sure all you married woman do of your husbands, before this whole mess started. But now, now I couldn't complain even if I tried. Every morning (except this morning, hmm...) he makes me oatmeal and leaves it on the table for me, or if I don't have to go to work he brings it to me in bed, along with my bottled water and vitamin supplements for the morning. He takes care of all those things that need taken care of when you have four small children, all the last minute trips to the store, birthday party drop offs and pick ups, looking for lost library books, science fair projects, book reports, hair cuts, getting them fed, putting away the leftovers, and so much more, so that when I come home I can just be with my kids and not have to worry about doing anything but spending time with them. And all those things that I complained about before, well, now really don't seem significant. It really is all about perspective.
It's been said that "an individual doesn't get c*****, that an entire family does.....". When I said this to my friend, she pointed out that it isn't an individual, or a family, but an entire community of people that have been touched by my diagnosis. And she is so right.
I was nervous about making my turban wearing debut. I wasn't sure what the reaction of the students was going to be, even though we had prepped them for this moment. A few weeks prior we, the school counselor and myself, had visited each classroom and talked with all the students. For the younger students we used the words "invisible boo boo", taken from a poem that was written for small children about c*****. The older students, grades 5 and 6, I attempted to use the technical term, invasive ductal carcinoma, but they were very inquisitive and I wasn't about to lie to them. When they asked if it was c*****, I was honest with them and said yes.
It wasn't as if I didn't want them to know what I had. In fact, I didn't mind at all. I have been extremely open with anyone who inquires. If that weren't the case I wouldn't have this blog. But when you're telling someone else's child, and not knowing what experiences they have had or what their association of that word might be, I thought it would be better to try to phrase it differently, in a way that wouldn't seem as frightening. I didn't want any of them to be upset or scared. But since children talk and there are plenty of older students with younger siblings, they are mostly all aware of what I have at this point.
There were two reasons for talking with them. The first was to make them aware of the fact that I was going to look differently in the coming weeks. We explained how I would have to take some medicine that would probably make my hair fall out, but that it wasn't anything to be upset about. I would wear head coverings of every color until eventually my hair grew back.
The second very important reason to talk with them was to explain that they would have to respect my personal space for awhile. If you work in a school you know just how much children love to hug their teachers. You also know how much children, especially the little bitty ones, have their fingers in their mouths and noses. There are always plenty of germs and viruses floating around in schools that I would be very susceptible to when my white blood cell counts are low after chemo. I wanted them to know the reason I couldn't hug them, at least for now.
Overall, that first day back was a positive experience. Sure the kids had questions, but I expected that. Did your hair start falling out Mrs. McCreary? I heard that a lot that first day. I had one fourth grader ask me if I was going to die, to which I just laughed and assured her I wasn't. There was a first grader that told me she knew exactly what I was going through because she had c***** once, too, and apparently her two friends did, also, explaining how it hurt when their hair broke off and fell out. Their innocence just made me smile.
 |
| The front of the shirt my coworkers were wearing |
But the very best part to my first day back was the surprise from my coworkers. The entire staff was wearing pink breast c***** awareness t-shirts. They had also started a team in my honor for the walk/run on Mothers' Day.
From the moment I shared my diagnosis they have all been wonderfully supportive and compassionate. They have been providing my family with meals twice a week. I have gotten cards and small gifts. And I recently found out about a fund raising event one individual has planned on my behalf. I am so incredibly blessed to work with such a wonderful group of individuals.
The outpouring of generosity and compassion doesn't end with my coworkers. A few of the teachers from my children's school have sent home dinners on the school bus with the kids. I have received cards and donations from people I have only met a time or two or sometimes not at all. They have heard my story through someone I know and feel compelled to reach out. I really am so appreciative of all the kind words, love and support so many have shown to my family during this time.
Oh yes, and my family...I can't forget about how wonderfully helpful my family has been as well. My in-laws have kept the younger boys to have them complete their homework. My mom has been helping with laundry and I've sent my sisters on shopping trips and airport pickups.
Then, there are my friends. I receive almost daily words of encouragement. I get texts and emails to say "just thinking about you" or "praying for you". Only people who know from experience will ever know what that means to me. There are some days that feel so lonely and those texts and emails carry me through.
And he'll never know it, because words could never express, how grateful I am to have Bob in my life. I had plenty of complaints about Bob, as I'm sure all you married woman do of your husbands, before this whole mess started. But now, now I couldn't complain even if I tried. Every morning (except this morning, hmm...) he makes me oatmeal and leaves it on the table for me, or if I don't have to go to work he brings it to me in bed, along with my bottled water and vitamin supplements for the morning. He takes care of all those things that need taken care of when you have four small children, all the last minute trips to the store, birthday party drop offs and pick ups, looking for lost library books, science fair projects, book reports, hair cuts, getting them fed, putting away the leftovers, and so much more, so that when I come home I can just be with my kids and not have to worry about doing anything but spending time with them. And all those things that I complained about before, well, now really don't seem significant. It really is all about perspective.
It's been said that "an individual doesn't get c*****, that an entire family does.....". When I said this to my friend, she pointed out that it isn't an individual, or a family, but an entire community of people that have been touched by my diagnosis. And she is so right.
Back to Life
My last chemo therapy treatment was one week ago today. Overall it's been a really good week. At this point I'm not feeling too badly. The nausea lessens with every day and for the most part I've been able to eat, which was not the case last time around. The doctor did switch the chemo drug this time instead of waiting one more round like he had originally planned, so I'm sure that has something to do with it.
Following the post chemo cycle, I am starting to drag a little. I noticed about halfway through the work day I was nearly drained of any energy I may have started the day with. I needed to sit more often throughout the afternoon and just rest. By the time I got home I was ready for a nap, although I didn't. Instead of napping I took my 9 yr old to his first baseball practice of the season.
Tuesday, I returned to work after being out for almost two weeks. Wednesday, two of the boys had soccer practice for the first time this season. Thursday, I had a meeting with coworkers from other buildings. And Friday, there was that baseball practice. I have also ventured into two stores and the bank this week. These are all ordinary places. Places I have gone hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. But this time, this time was different. I was going to these places for the first time. It was the first time because this time I was bald. I hadn't seen the parents from the boys' teams since the fall. They didn't have any clue what has gone on since then. Would they ask me? Have they already heard? I never know what I'm walking into. When people see me in the store, can they tell? While these questions cross my mind and I have these little awkward moments, I can't let this little diagnosis stop me from any moment of my life or it's already won, and there's no way I'll allow that to happen.
Following the post chemo cycle, I am starting to drag a little. I noticed about halfway through the work day I was nearly drained of any energy I may have started the day with. I needed to sit more often throughout the afternoon and just rest. By the time I got home I was ready for a nap, although I didn't. Instead of napping I took my 9 yr old to his first baseball practice of the season.
Tuesday, I returned to work after being out for almost two weeks. Wednesday, two of the boys had soccer practice for the first time this season. Thursday, I had a meeting with coworkers from other buildings. And Friday, there was that baseball practice. I have also ventured into two stores and the bank this week. These are all ordinary places. Places I have gone hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. But this time, this time was different. I was going to these places for the first time. It was the first time because this time I was bald. I hadn't seen the parents from the boys' teams since the fall. They didn't have any clue what has gone on since then. Would they ask me? Have they already heard? I never know what I'm walking into. When people see me in the store, can they tell? While these questions cross my mind and I have these little awkward moments, I can't let this little diagnosis stop me from any moment of my life or it's already won, and there's no way I'll allow that to happen.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
From Bad to Worse
Sorry for the delay in posting. I know many people rely on my writing for their updates. In addition to the side effects of the chemo leaving me feeling tired and sick, the last few days have been very emotionally draining.
When I wrote last it was Thursday afternoon and I was getting ready to leave for my second trip to Chicago. Just after I had written my last post, I received a phone call from the oncologist. Immediately my heart started racing. A hundred scenarios must have run through my mind why he was calling, none of which was the actual reason. When I was waiting for my diagnosis I imagined that moment of hearing the news hundreds of times, but not this time. I had NEVER imagined being told what he was about to tell me. NEVER. NOT ONCE. I can't even tell you what exactly he said. I suppose to some degree I blocked a lot of it out.
I've mentioned a few times how I was tested for the breast c***** gene. That's when they test to see if you are a carrier for the mutated gene which predisposes you to get breast and ovarian c***** if you are a woman, breast and prostate c***** if you are a man. If you recall I had "less than a 5% chance" of having that gene, that's what they said. I had no known diagnoses in either side of my family. I didn't know of anyone in my family that had ever had any of those types, not my mother, aunt, sisters, grandmothers, father, grandfathers, brothers, no one. My father died from kidney c*****, but they consider that unrelated. The only reason that I was tested was because I am so young and because of the type I have. I have, since all this, found out that there were cases of breast c***** back three generations on my maternal grandfather's side of the family, so I'm not sure how that changed my odds.
And with only that 5% or whatever chance I had, there I was, a carrier of some stupid mutated gene. That was what the doctor had called to tell me, except he didn't use the word stupid. Now this whole mess no longer just included me, not that it ever did, but now in an even more profound way, it encompassed my entire family, my mother, my four brothers, my two sisters, and anyone of them who tested positive's children, including my own five, none of whom can be tested until they are 18 years old.
He followed the news with telling me we would stop chemo in order to let my body heal in preparation for surgery. Granted, I wanted to hear those words, "stop chemo", but not quite what I had in mind. He meant stop for now. He still planned on continuing with chemo after surgery, but I didn't discover that until later.
The standard has become to do a double mastectomy when a woman is a gene carrier. The reason for this is because according to all their statistics you have an 87% chance of developing breast c*****, and once having it, you have a 50% chance of developing it a second time. He recommended I still come to Chicago to meet with the surgeon and talk face to face to discuss all my options, to which I agreed would be a good idea.
I continued to get ready for my trip. I got dressed. I packed. I ate my lunch. I took my vitamins. I brushed my teeth. I did it all while crying. There was no time to just stop and cry. I had a plane to catch. There is a song by Casting Crowns, Praise You in This Storm, that I listened to over, and over, and over again. It's quite possible I listened to that song 30 or more times while getting ready that afternoon.
So a few weeks back I had written a post, "Crazy? Maybe...", in which I explained how I had thought I heard God say to me "no more chemo". Since that time I have been anxious to watch God's plan unfold and too see just how the "no more chemo" plan would manifest. Was this it? The plan was to discontinue chemo, at least for now. This was not how I had imagined the plan would go. AT ALL.
Once in Chicago, I met with the oncologist, the breast surgeon, plastic/reconstructive surgeon, and geneticist. Each one throwing numbers and statistics, and different scenarios at me, in the nicest way possible. They really all meant well, I just didn't like what any of them had to say, except the geneticist. He really was the only one I didn't mind talking to because he was the only one not talking about cutting me up, taking my organs, mutilating my body, and filling me full of poison. In case you couldn't tell, I didn't take the news very well. I forgot to mention that sometime while talking to all these doctors I also learned that it is recommended that I have my ovaries removed as well. Only later to find out that there are serious side effects to removing ovaries pre-menopausal, including heart disease, early onset Alzheimer's, and Parkinson's disease just to name a few. I feel as though I'd be trading the risk of one problem for a set of other problems.
I discussed multiple scenarios with the surgeon and plastic/reconstructive surgeon, none of which I liked or feel remotely comfortable with. I don't like the idea of "fake" breasts. So I mostly focused on the procedure where they remove muscle and tissue from the lower abdomen and use it to build a breast. But after an exam, they informed me that I only had enough tissue to maybe make two "A" size breasts....who knew? So then they talked about different places they could remove muscle and tissue from to make them bigger, possible places being my back, inner thighs, and possibly over time doing liposuction and using the fat to add to them until they were big enough. By this point my head was spinning, maybe even quite literally, who knows. I was so overwhelmed I just wanted to run away. It wasn't just the operations they were discussing, but recovery time in the hospital, additional time recovering in Chicago, drainage bags, and lots of other disgusting details. Somehow when it was all said and done I was getting chemo again. Yes, you heard me right...chemo!! How did that happen you ask? Somewhere in discussing what kind of reconstructive surgery I wanted, arose the plan to continue with chemo now and do surgery later, I think, but really I have no idea.
It was right around the time that I learned I was going to have chemo in a very short time from then, that I completely lost it, not in a hysterical way, but more of a crying, sobbing, blubbering mess kind of way. I was completely taken over by fear. Somehow in my irrational mind I believed that I was going to die. Why? Because then this would somehow fulfill what I had heard God say...."no more chemo". In my mind, at the time, I was thinking if I died at any point before the chemo, or during, then I wouldn't have had any more. Sure, it doesn't make much sense now, but at the time, it made perfect sense. So I cried while they inserted the picc line for chemo. I cried while I was given chemo. Eventually, after my mom prayed for me, I just cried myself to sleep. I slept through most of my treatment and when it was all over they woke me up. Thankful to still be alive, I gathered my things and caught the next shuttle back to our hotel room.
It was pretty late by the time we flew into Pittsburgh Saturday night.. I spent most of Easter Sunday on the couch completely exhausted from the side effects of chemo. And by the time Monday rolled around, I was so sick I never got out of bed, spending most of the morning praying and reading my Bible, trying to make sense of this whole mess. And as I move forward, I'm still unsure of what my plan is, but I am prayerfully considering all of my options.
When I wrote last it was Thursday afternoon and I was getting ready to leave for my second trip to Chicago. Just after I had written my last post, I received a phone call from the oncologist. Immediately my heart started racing. A hundred scenarios must have run through my mind why he was calling, none of which was the actual reason. When I was waiting for my diagnosis I imagined that moment of hearing the news hundreds of times, but not this time. I had NEVER imagined being told what he was about to tell me. NEVER. NOT ONCE. I can't even tell you what exactly he said. I suppose to some degree I blocked a lot of it out.
I've mentioned a few times how I was tested for the breast c***** gene. That's when they test to see if you are a carrier for the mutated gene which predisposes you to get breast and ovarian c***** if you are a woman, breast and prostate c***** if you are a man. If you recall I had "less than a 5% chance" of having that gene, that's what they said. I had no known diagnoses in either side of my family. I didn't know of anyone in my family that had ever had any of those types, not my mother, aunt, sisters, grandmothers, father, grandfathers, brothers, no one. My father died from kidney c*****, but they consider that unrelated. The only reason that I was tested was because I am so young and because of the type I have. I have, since all this, found out that there were cases of breast c***** back three generations on my maternal grandfather's side of the family, so I'm not sure how that changed my odds.
And with only that 5% or whatever chance I had, there I was, a carrier of some stupid mutated gene. That was what the doctor had called to tell me, except he didn't use the word stupid. Now this whole mess no longer just included me, not that it ever did, but now in an even more profound way, it encompassed my entire family, my mother, my four brothers, my two sisters, and anyone of them who tested positive's children, including my own five, none of whom can be tested until they are 18 years old.
He followed the news with telling me we would stop chemo in order to let my body heal in preparation for surgery. Granted, I wanted to hear those words, "stop chemo", but not quite what I had in mind. He meant stop for now. He still planned on continuing with chemo after surgery, but I didn't discover that until later.
The standard has become to do a double mastectomy when a woman is a gene carrier. The reason for this is because according to all their statistics you have an 87% chance of developing breast c*****, and once having it, you have a 50% chance of developing it a second time. He recommended I still come to Chicago to meet with the surgeon and talk face to face to discuss all my options, to which I agreed would be a good idea.
I continued to get ready for my trip. I got dressed. I packed. I ate my lunch. I took my vitamins. I brushed my teeth. I did it all while crying. There was no time to just stop and cry. I had a plane to catch. There is a song by Casting Crowns, Praise You in This Storm, that I listened to over, and over, and over again. It's quite possible I listened to that song 30 or more times while getting ready that afternoon.
So a few weeks back I had written a post, "Crazy? Maybe...", in which I explained how I had thought I heard God say to me "no more chemo". Since that time I have been anxious to watch God's plan unfold and too see just how the "no more chemo" plan would manifest. Was this it? The plan was to discontinue chemo, at least for now. This was not how I had imagined the plan would go. AT ALL.
Once in Chicago, I met with the oncologist, the breast surgeon, plastic/reconstructive surgeon, and geneticist. Each one throwing numbers and statistics, and different scenarios at me, in the nicest way possible. They really all meant well, I just didn't like what any of them had to say, except the geneticist. He really was the only one I didn't mind talking to because he was the only one not talking about cutting me up, taking my organs, mutilating my body, and filling me full of poison. In case you couldn't tell, I didn't take the news very well. I forgot to mention that sometime while talking to all these doctors I also learned that it is recommended that I have my ovaries removed as well. Only later to find out that there are serious side effects to removing ovaries pre-menopausal, including heart disease, early onset Alzheimer's, and Parkinson's disease just to name a few. I feel as though I'd be trading the risk of one problem for a set of other problems.
I discussed multiple scenarios with the surgeon and plastic/reconstructive surgeon, none of which I liked or feel remotely comfortable with. I don't like the idea of "fake" breasts. So I mostly focused on the procedure where they remove muscle and tissue from the lower abdomen and use it to build a breast. But after an exam, they informed me that I only had enough tissue to maybe make two "A" size breasts....who knew? So then they talked about different places they could remove muscle and tissue from to make them bigger, possible places being my back, inner thighs, and possibly over time doing liposuction and using the fat to add to them until they were big enough. By this point my head was spinning, maybe even quite literally, who knows. I was so overwhelmed I just wanted to run away. It wasn't just the operations they were discussing, but recovery time in the hospital, additional time recovering in Chicago, drainage bags, and lots of other disgusting details. Somehow when it was all said and done I was getting chemo again. Yes, you heard me right...chemo!! How did that happen you ask? Somewhere in discussing what kind of reconstructive surgery I wanted, arose the plan to continue with chemo now and do surgery later, I think, but really I have no idea.
It was right around the time that I learned I was going to have chemo in a very short time from then, that I completely lost it, not in a hysterical way, but more of a crying, sobbing, blubbering mess kind of way. I was completely taken over by fear. Somehow in my irrational mind I believed that I was going to die. Why? Because then this would somehow fulfill what I had heard God say...."no more chemo". In my mind, at the time, I was thinking if I died at any point before the chemo, or during, then I wouldn't have had any more. Sure, it doesn't make much sense now, but at the time, it made perfect sense. So I cried while they inserted the picc line for chemo. I cried while I was given chemo. Eventually, after my mom prayed for me, I just cried myself to sleep. I slept through most of my treatment and when it was all over they woke me up. Thankful to still be alive, I gathered my things and caught the next shuttle back to our hotel room.
It was pretty late by the time we flew into Pittsburgh Saturday night.. I spent most of Easter Sunday on the couch completely exhausted from the side effects of chemo. And by the time Monday rolled around, I was so sick I never got out of bed, spending most of the morning praying and reading my Bible, trying to make sense of this whole mess. And as I move forward, I'm still unsure of what my plan is, but I am prayerfully considering all of my options.
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