It seems they have developed a new test that catches ovarian cancer about 95% of the time.
You can read about it here.
And that’s good news.
Apparently that 95% success rate isn’t good enough for them to make it a standard test, but still, you’d hope they would use it in situations that called for it.
Good news.
You know, it’s great to be back at work and to be getting a routine and connecting up with people, and even having a little bit more cash.
But it was really great to be in Kaua’i.
I knew it was great when I was there, and some of the ways it was great are becoming more clear to me now that I am home.
This picture was taken a few minutes after we got caught in a tropical rain deluge.
We had been warned about the storm and we were in the process of breaking camp because we were on our way to a new campsite, (oddly, we were on our way to the wettest place on earth). We thought we had it timed right and we would get everything packed up before the storm.
Our calculations were off by about 10 minutes.
That was a win for the storm.
It was actually a really wonderful rainstorm, though many things got wet and stayed wet until they hit the dryer once we got them back home.
Still, it was awfully fun.
That’s just what I was thinking about.
Kaua’i was lovely.
Well, well, well…
It’s a funny thing.
This weekend is the one year anniversary of my diagnosis.
I went into VGH on a Friday afternoon for what they said would be a 45 minute operation and about 3 and a half hours later, the surgeon came out and told Elaine that I had cancer.
I think it’s ironic and kind of cruel that she knew before I did.
I think it’s really cruel that it got left to her to be the one to tell me, but I think that really came down to circumstances rather than malice or negligence.
I remember hearing that I had cancer and thinking, “oh, okay then… what are we going to do about that.” I tried to keep that attitude the whole way along. I think I have been fairly successful with that.
I thought it would be a big emotional event for me to hit the one year mark, but it really wasn’t.
We had a really busy and really social weekend and that felt like a good thing. I was glad we were paying attention to regular life and getting back to being regular people.
It is weird to look back on all the things that have happened in the last year.
All the appointments, all the things I didn’t know a year ago that I know now, all the help I have received along the way, all the aches and pains, all the time to think about things, all the boredom, all the baldness, all the worries about health and money and the future and health and money and everything.
It’s weird because I am in a spot now where I find myself having to think about just how much I am going to let cancer be part of my identity in the future.
I’m back at work, though only for a few hours each day.
I have my hair back.
I am slowly getting my strength back.
I look pretty much like I did a year ago. I have rebounded, on the outside, from the ravages of the chemo.
But it’s a rather profound thing to go through and I need to figure out how to incorporate that experience into my life, and carry on.
I also need to incorporate the whole “who knows what the future holds…” thing in there as well.
It’s weird trying to balance the having been through all that and (seemingly) having come out the other side versus the fact that my health will be under surveillance for the next 7 years and I will be on of the lucky ones if I dodge some sort of recurrence along the way.
And meanwhile, I just want to get back to normal.
You see? It’s all pretty weird and complicated.
Actually, I am willing to postpone going back to normal if I can go back to Kaua’i.
How about that?
I was chatting today with a woman that I like and respect a whole lot.
We haven’t really seen each other since this whole thing happened.
She did the “Oh, you are so brave. I don’t know how you did it.”
Now, let me just say, I am more than happy to be told how brave I am most of the time. I am even willing to have people tell me fibs if it involves some detailed description of my extreme bravery.
But here’s the thing…
If you haven’t been through this, you should listen up.
I appreciate it when people say I am brave, don’t get me wrong.
But I think getting a spider out of the shower stall is more brave than surgery and chemo.
Because when you find a spider in the shower stall, you have a variety of choices, and removing the spider is probably the bravest.
Having surgery, getting a cancer diagnosis and doing chemo… well, that situation doesn’t come with very many choices and none of them are good.
So you go with the least awful of the two.
That doesn’t seem so brave to me.
I think people doing chemo often demonstrate bravery in the process of doing chemo, but I think making the choice to try to stay alive is pretty basic, really.
I think this labyrith of ideas and viewpoints in my head will be untangled in a big, ongoing process.
And maybe it will never get all the way untangled.
I am nowhere near the end of trying to figure it out, and I am still trying to mix in with the regular herd and get on with things.
It’s all a lot to think about.
And now that I am not laying on my ass 24 hours a day, there is an awful lot to do.
I dunno.
What a long, strange trip it’s been.
Still, I am happy to be here.
And still thinking.
This may not make a stitch of sense to anyone but me.
Actually, it may not make any sense to me either.
How about that?
Happy Mother’s Day.
Well, I am back… and tanned and rested and relaxed.
For folks who don’t know, a bunch of my friends kicked in and made it possible for me to go to Kauai for 11 days.
There was me, and the woman, and two really good friends, who pretty much came up with the idea and engineered the whole thing.
Hooray for them.
It was swell.
It was amazing.
We snorkelled.
We swam with turtles.
We spent an afternoon with a Hawaiian monk seal on the beach in front of us.
We ate.
We read books.
We went to the wettest place on earth.
We camped on the edge of the Napali Coast for 5 days and watched the full moon light up our campsite every night.
We had a picnic on Honolulu Harbour between flights on the way home.
It was great.
A huge thank you to everyone who helped make it happen.
Elaine and I are going to put up a page of photos and commentary just as soon as we catch up on all the things that we neglected for the last two weeks.
So, I had 11 days in paradise, came back, slept a bunch, and went back to work today.
It felt so much like a normal person’s life, it was all a bit odd.
I am now on the edge of being normal again. I am looking at the days of the week and saying, “I work these days and these days over here are my days off.” rather than saying, “I have to do bloodwork on Monday and then I have to see my GP. Tuesday I have an acupuncture appointment and then I see my oncologist.”
It’s kind of weird sliding back into real life.
I remember how very cranky I got last year when I realized that my entire existence was being defined by an illness.
Now I am coming out the other end of that, and sliding back into real life.
It’s weird. Kind of spooky, and ultimately good.
And since life is always a mixed bag, I feel really sad tonight that Cancerbaby has had a recurrence.
I think it’s a fear we all live with, and I am so sorry to hear that this has happened to her.
I am thinking good thoughts about how she will smite the bastard this time around.
Aloha and Mahalo
Okay, folks, we are outta here for a wee bit.
Check back in a couple of weeks to see lovely pix and read tales of brave adventuring and unsurpassed relaxing.
Oh yeah… pass the sunscreen, darlin’
Well, faithful reader, as you know, I did my first work shift today.
It’s been almost a year since I buggered off to have surgery and expected to have a 6 week recovery period from that operation.
Of course, before that six weeks was up I was already making friends on the chemo ward. I still remember that feeling that I had been sucked up into the engine of a jet. You know, one day I was just happily bumbling along in my life and the next thing I knew I had a 10 inch scar on my belly, hot flashes, and strange men poking me in the wha-zoo.
I’m sure you can understand that it was all a bit of a shock.
It didn’t take long till I felt pretty natural in one of those stupid blue gowns.
And now I am on the other side of that process. Kind of the 180 degrees away from that, trying to crawl back into the real world after having nearly smothered in the land of the nasty-illness-that-no-one-wants.
So, I am trying to move back into that world and today was a pretty major step, what with the going back to work.
Now, to be fair, I didn’t really do work today.
I seem to have been hired into a new position with the same organization and today was a training day. So, I sat with my co-workers and listened to a variety of presentations and it was pretty cool.
The best part was the hugely positive reception I got from my co-workers and bosses.
And that everybody thought that I looked great.
(Everyone says that, and everyone also sounds kind of incredulous when they say it… I always feel like I should look more wretched or something…)
Anyway, it was really, really great.
There were tons of people there that I don’t know, who have been hired in the last year, but all the folks who were there last year were super-supportive and kind and they made me *want* to be back at work.
And it’s also really exciting to remember what it is like to feel competent at something, and to be treated as competent by the people around you.
Because I have spent the last year pretty much being defined by the disease, and that’s understandable, but it’s nice to think and talk about something else and to be treated as a respected co-worker.
I really, really liked that.
I liked it so much that I am not even pissed off that I got a $25 parking ticket on my first day back at work.
That was the day-time chunk of today.
Tonight, there was a “member appreciation night” at my gym and they did a head shaving and cancer fund-raiser.
Two of my good friends, Shaira and Sky, had their heads shaved. By me.
That was kind of fun, and the gym raised over $500 for the Canadian Cancer Society, so that was pretty cool.
Somewhere along the line, I got out’ed as a cancer survivor, and that was cool.
The woman who was representing the Canadian Cancer Society was really sweet, and the staff at the gym were spectacular, and my friends are the best (especially since they have both shaved their heads twice now because of cancer. Hooray for them!)
All in all, it was a pretty good day.
And now I need to go to bed, because I am planning on having another one tomorrow.
It’s back to work I go…
Well, at least I start the training for a new job (with the same employer) tomorrow.
And that should be interesting.
I do a couple of days of training for a new job at a new site and, as a result, I will end up seeing a whole lot of my old co-workers tomorrow. And that will be cool, because I actually like many of my co-workers.
And tomorrow night the gym I go to is doing a headshaving fundraiser for the Canadian Cancer Society and the manager of the gym asked me if I would be one of the headshavers.
I said sure, though truth be told, most of those stupid gym monkeys would rather die than have me stand that close to them while holding a razor. Still, it’s for “the cause” so I said yes.
It’s going to be a busy day.
Going back to work will be interesting.
On one hand, I think it will feel really good to go be productive again.
And, on that other hand, I wonder how much stamina I am going to have,
Thankfully, I have really great bosses who are totally supporting the gradual return to work, and I will do 4 hours a day for a week, then 5 hours a day, and so on…
I think it’s gonna be just fine.
On other fronts, I have been reading lots of stuff about diet and supplements and preventing recurrence. Thanks to Cancer Baby for the info on that score.
It looks like this are gonna get a might mo’ fishy around my house.
No, seriously… apparently I should eat more fish. Cuz it does the Omega 3 thing in a way that is better than flax seed oil.
Let me just say, burps after ingesting salmon oil capsules are just plain vulgar.
And since I may have hit a new low, for me and for my blog(s), I will now go take a bath and wash my mouth out with organic castille soap.
More as it happens.
A while ago, I mentioned that I was going to order some of these Livestrong bracelets.
(And a few people mentioned that they would like one, so if you wanted one and you haven’t heard from me yet, feel free to drop me a line and I will hook you up with one.)
I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but I just stumbled across this site and this site both of which sell a variety of plastic bracelets at inflated prices.
Wow.
That kind of sickens me.
I understand that retailers need to make a profit. But lots of retailers have little tins for various charities and people donate money when they are at the till.
I don’t know why some folks are deciding to sell these bracelets for a profit.
To me, it goes against the spirit of the thing and it’s kind of gross.
And, imagine my surprise when I saw just how very many bracelets there are available now.
That snappy Lance Armstrong, cutting the trail for plastic fashion *and* winning the Tour de France a million times.
He’s my guy.
Anyway, if you are in my little world and you after one of the Livestrong bracelets, give me a shout and I will set you up.
For way less than it would cost on e-bay.
Be the first in your class!!
I had this idea that I wanted some folks to join me for the , Relay for Life put on by the Canadian Cancer Society, but it kind of collapsed, my grand, not terribly selfless gesture.
It went ka-put.
Tits-up.
It croaked.
I really wanted to try to give something back to the big old world, cuz I have been taking more than my share lately, and I would like to balance the scales some. And I would like to do something to lighten the burden on other people who end up in the same boat as me.
Because, sadly, there will continue to be people in the same boat as me.
After a bunch of discussion about the timing of the relay and the current events in my life, and the fact that I haven’t worked in almost a year and I need to get going on that score, it was decided that we would postpone that sort of involvement until next year.
So, it is my rather enormous hope that next year I can make this happen and round up my own little relay team and stay up all night making the mainstream folks nervous and raising money for a pretty important cause.
I’m not doing it this year, but some woman I have never met is doing the Revlon Run Walk for Women’s Cancers in NYC at the end of April.
I just read her blog post (because all the cool peeps with ovarian cancer keep a blog and update it frequently) and she made me all misty-eyed with her post about doing the walk, and what it meant to her last year and what it means to her this year, and survivors’ laps and she mentioned absolutely nothing about run-on sentences but perhaps she should have or perhaps that is only my problem.
Anyway, I think you should read what she wrote.
She said what I felt better than I could have said my own self.
Her stuff can be found here
Go now. You’ll be a better person for it.
I promise.
I had dinner with a friend tonight and I was trying to explain the strange zone I am in right now.
I’m not sick, but I am not well.
I already had a major grumble about that earlier today (see below).
It’s just weird right now.
In some ways, having finished the chemo means I now have the time, and some of the energy, to look back on what happened to me, and to Elaine, in 2004.
And let me just say, it’s actually a freakier thing to look at in retrospect than it is to just dig in and do it on a daily level.
And I think that’s because when you are actively in it there is so much stuff that you just push aside or stuff and you put one foot in front of the other and you go.
You go for bloodwork and you go for chemo and you go for doctor’s appointments and you go get your prescriptions filled and you go lay down and you get up again in about a week.
And now, it’s been four months since I finished my chemo and now I am trying to make sense of it.
It’s sort of like having spent seven months inside a blender and then getting tossed on to solid ground. It takes a while for the world to stop spinning and to get your bearings.
I feel like that’s the stuff I have to do now.
Trouble is, it’s a bit overwhelming and I am not sure I know where to start.
If I try to take on too much, I get tired and then I get grumpy because I am reminded that I am not able to do everything I used to do.
So, I am kind of confused right now.
See, it’s like this…
On one hand, I have all the gruelling moments of the last year that I need to just work through and deal with, one way or the other.
And, on the other hand, I have the daunting future looming before me.
Cuz, in case you didn’t know, just because I lived through chemo does not, not, not mean I am cured.
It means I am doing really well right now. And we will keep checking back for the next 7 years to make sure nothing is changing too much in all that.
It’s really a so far, so good sort of thing.
And I am totally delighted with where I am at, all things considered.
But it’s a bit like the old devil and the deep blue sea, if you know what I mean.
Sometimes I do literally feel squished by the enormity of the recent past and unknown freakiness of the future.
So sometimes all that pisses me off and makes me grumpy.
I try to remember how pissed off I will be if I do have a recurrence and I didn’t make the most of this time right now.
And still, sometimes I get crabby.
Sorry about that, comrades.
Bear with me, it’s all getting better, bit by bit.
Dear potheads,
How about this?
When you are having a hoot while driving in rush hour traffic, how about you roll up those windows so I don’t have to get all in a panic and wonder who is getting blasted in the next lane?
How about that?
See, I realize here in New Hamsterdam, you have to work pretty hard to get arrested for simple possession, I’d really appreciate it if you’d wait till you got home before you spark one up.
Oh, sure, it’s not addictive and it’s good for you and it’s low in carbs, it comes in a variety of flavours, and you can collect the whole set.
Still, how’z aboot we treat it like drinking beer.
It ain’t illegal to have a beer after work, but if you crack open your High-test in rush hour traffic, and you get caught, you’ll get quite a spanking.
I feel the same way about your pot smoking.
And if you can’t wait till you get home, how about you roll up them windows?
If you are gonna be fucked up, I don’t want to know about it in advance.
My girlfriend says, quite frequently, that I don’t like change.
I disagree, and I tell her so.
I just don’t like change that I don’t like.
It’s that simple.
See, if I won the lottery and I was suddenly no longer dogged by money troubles, that would
a) be a change
b) be something I like.
So, as often happens when we disagree, I am right and she is wrong.
And that’s okay by me.
But back to the nasty issue of change…
It’s true, I tend to be a bit stubborn when things are pretty good and then some stupid thing or person happens along and shit-kicks the whole balance of things.
And it happens all the time.
Maybe we, as humans, are all just Weebles and we spend our lifetimes wobbling, and hopefully not falling down. Too often.
The other day, Elaine and I were looking at some pictures and some wee movies.
They were taken before any cancer diagnosis had happened.
I found myself looking at them with an eerie fascination.
“Wow, look at us then, playing with the kittens, going to work and planning holidays and thinking about life like we thought we were regular people, wow.”
That’s what I thought. But I didn’t say anything.
So, when Elaine said, “You know what’s weird about looking at these?”, I didn’t think she would echo what I had been thinking.
See, I am the Eeyore in this house and if anyone is going to see the dark side of something, it will probably be me (except for the times when I am much more of an optimist than Elaine… it’s freaky but it really does happen. But I digress…).
It’s weird to look back on life before the diagnosis.
It’s weird to look ahead and try to figure out what the future holds and where I fit in it all now.
It’s weird to figure out what I can and can’t do and to have to articulate that to everyone.
And on that, there is no one good social rule for people to follow.
If people want me to do more than I can, I will squawk.
If people underestimate what I can do, I will get bored or grumpy or insulted.
Nice set of options, no?
I am in a strange zone right now.
Kind of halfway between everything. Not unlike some small Prairie town.
I don’t think I “look sick” anymore. I can tell because people slam into me in crowds and stuff and I no longer qualify as a helpless little invalid.
There are a set of social behaviours that we reserve for when we are in the presence of the very ill and our grandparents and for the general population for the week leading up to Christmas.
I no longer qualify as the recipient of that behaviour, except in mid-December.
People will butt in front of me in a line-up, will screw me for a parking spot, pass me on the right and cut me off in traffic.
I am back as a card carrying member of the general population.
GenPop.
But the trouble is, I don’t *feel* 100% yet.
I mean, sometimes I do, but sometimes I don’t.
And I find I have to always calculate how I am doing and whether I am up for dinner with Mary and Marvin on Saturday night, and are they going to do up an organic meal or will I be invited over for another meal that I can’t eat?
(Cuz you know, I never planned on becoming so high bloody maintenance, but that’s where it’s at right now, and I can’t actually tell you how spectacularly boring it is for me to always have to always say, “oh… no thanks, I can’t eat that… not organic.”
Damn… I just hate it.
“Oh, no, really, water is fine… thanks.”)
And I think about going back to work.
Work would be good in some ways.
More contact with the world would be good.
Feeling like I was contributing would be good.
Bringing home a pay cheque would be more than swell.
But then I get struck by the fear…
What if I can’t?
I don’t even know what it is I think I might not be able to do.
Maybe I “can’t”.
Can’t what, I don’t know.
I was talking to a counsellor at the cancer agency. She said some people don’t go back to work for a year after their treatments end.
Lots of people find they have to go back to completely different jobs.
I don’t know about that.
I think I need to feel more productive soon.
I liked my job and I liked (most of) my co-workers and I liked what we did.
But still, it’s weird to not be working.
And I know most people drag their asses out of bed each day and hobble off to work and scheme about all the things they would rather be doing.
I bet laying in bed for a year may even be on some people’s lists.
My suggestion: Be more specific about the how’s and the why’s of the laying in bed for a year.
Just a tip.
Anyway, our lives changed a whole bunch.
I remember driving back into town last year, after our vacation and before my surgery.
I remember staring out the window as we drove along the highway.
I remember thinking I was about to have a surgery and who knew what might happen after that.
And I remember thinking I was being a melodramatic wanker as soon as I thought that.
It sucks to be right.
So, it’s all changed and it ain’t done changing yet.
And, really, things are just going to keep changing and I will keep trying to accept those changes.
Some are just a whole lot easier than others.
Milk link to ovarian cancer risk
And for those of you who would rather scroll than click, the article appears below:
Milk link to ovarian cancer risk
Consuming large amounts of milk may increase the risk of developing ovarian cancer, research suggests.
A study of more than 60,000 women found drinking more than two glasses of milk a day significantly upped the risk of the most serious form of the disease.
Dairy products have previously been linked to cancers, including those of the breast and prostate.
The research, by Sweden’s Karolinska Institute, is published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition.
The researchers followed 61,084 women aged 38 to 76 for around 13 years.
During this time a total of 266 women were diagnosed with ovarian cancer, of whom 125 had serous ovarian cancer.
The researchers found women who consumed more than four servings of dairy products a day had twice the risk of serous ovarian cancer than women who had fewer than two.
They found that milk had the strongest link with ovarian cancer – those women who drank two or more glasses a day were at double the risk of those who did not consume it at all, or only in small amounts.
The reason why milk may increase the risk of ovarian cancer is unclear, but one theory is that lactose, a type of sugar found in milk, may overstimulate production of hormones which encourage tumour growth.
Diet element unclear
Dr Kate Law, of Cancer Research UK, said it was not yet clear how nutrients, or the amount and distribution of body fat affected the risk of developing cancer.
She said: “Previous research has also suggested that a diet rich in whole milk, yogurt and cheese may put women at higher risk of ovarian cancer.
“But the picture is far from clear, as other evidence suggests that women who drink skimmed or low-fat milk might have a lower risk of ovarian cancer.”
Dr Law a major study, involving 500,000 people, was currently underway to try to assess the impact on diet on cancer.
“Until more is known about the specific components of diet that influence cancer risk, the best advice is to emphasize a balanced diet which includes plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables.”
Around 6,700 women in the UK are diagnosed with ovarian cancer each year.
Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/1/hi/health/4051331.stm
Published: 2004/11/29 10:55:03 GMT
okay. I am gonna fill you in on a secret.
While I can’t speak for anyone else in the carcinoma club, when I was in the middle of being sick and doing chemo, I think I became a nicer human being.
By which I mean, other people didn’t piss me off nearly as much as they usually do. I could lay in my bed and think my lofty and generous thoughts about the world and I was a much more well-rounded person.
Now, I wasn’t actually physically capable of leaving my house or doing very much so I didn’t actually have much contact with the world. But in my sheltered state, I liked people quite a bit more than I did before.
I kinda thought that new Shirley Temple way of looking at the world would stick.
That I would come through the other side of the cancer game and I would maintain that Berkley way of seeing the world.
And the truth of it is… I might be a little bit nicer than I was before, but that probably gets off-set by the fact that I am in a fair amount of achey pain a lot of the time which makes me a wee bit crabby.
So at the end of the day, I am pretty much right back where I started.
In case you were thinking you might want to ring me up and bask in the great Elizabeth-Kubler-Ross-ness of it all.
And anyway, for all I know I was only getting all fluffy because of all the drugs they were giving me.
Why do you think they call it dope?
On other fronts, I realized yesterday that I feel like I am going flat out, as fast as I can, just to try to keep up with regular people.
And I feel a little overwhelmed by the whole “putting the pieces of my life back together” project that is before me.
I’m still figuring that part.
I guess it’s time to figure out a plan for how to get back on my feet.
It’s all kind of weird. The last year has been kind of intense, in lots of ways, and a whole lot of it involved just closing my eyes and gritting my teeth and doing it.
And now is the time where I have to sort through all that shite and take stock of the emotional processes involved in all that.
As well as build up my physical strength.
And return to work and start contributing to the overall financial well-being of my home.
And return to interacting with the humans here in the human world.
It’s all a lot.
I kicked and screamed when it was taken away from me, and now I feel uncertain how one returns to it all.
Weird, eh?
Well, we had a little visit with the oncologist today. The first visit since I finished the chemo.
Not that either of us have been at all tense about what the test results may say.
No, no.
So, with the CA-125 test, you want to have your test results be nice and low. You want your test results to either be under 35 or under 20, depending on who you talk to.
My last test result were 2.8. which is so clean it squeaks.
Today’s test results were 6.
There is much happiness with that number here at my house today.
And now you know too.
More later.