Chemobearapy

Although this blog is dedicated to those with serious illnesses and especially to my fellow travelers on the cancer journey, rarely do we discuss topics specifically related to illness. Rather, we like to think of this blog as a vacation from the serious issues we deal with each day, a way of celebrating life and sharing what we’ve learned is really important—laughter, love and learning.

However, there are times when, incredible as it may sound, the very act of dealing with illness brings love and laughter into our life and teaches us something we think might be of value to others. This past Friday was one of those times, so I want to share what happened in the hope that it might take some of the fear and anxiety out of the idea of cancer treatment.

Every three weeks, I go to the Monter Center on Long Island to receive a “maintenance dose” of Herceptin to remind any cancer that is hanging out in my body that if it thinks it’s going to start partying and causing trouble, it can think again. Stretch always comes along with me, just as he goes everywhere else with me. Here’s how Friday’s session of what I’m now relabeling “Chemobearapy” went:

Most of the nurses in the center know Stretch, so when we arrive he’s greeted and petted on the head. Last week we had a nurse, Jane, who hasn’t treated us before, so of course she was curious about the hub bub that Stretch causes. I explained to her about the blog and introduced her to Stretch. Their eyes met, she smiled at him, and it was love at first sight.

Stretch of course wanted to impress her, so he volunteered to help her by watching my IV monitor. She was delighted to have his assistance and told him so. 

As he was busy helping Jane, we had another visitor to our cubicle, a social worker named Sandra.  She introduced herself and told me about some new support programs the Monter Center is starting for breast cancer patients. (Bridge to Survivorship. Contact Sandra Caparco at the Monter Center (516) 734-8744 for info) I introduced her to Stretch and she proceeded to fuss over him. Well, that fickle little bear left his post at the IV monitor, crawled into Sandra’s pocket, took hold of her pen and proceeded to charm her and offer his assistance in getting the word out about the new social programs. 

But he deftly managed to get back to the cubicle in time to look as if he had been sitting there diligently watching the chemo monitor for Jane just as the alarm went off to indicate the 30 minute session was completed.

We shared some hugs all around, Stretch presented Jane with a St. Patrick’s Day plant to reassure her that she was still Number One in his heart, and we went on our way feeling that not only had we treated our cancer, we had also replenished our spirit.

Living with a life-threatening illness is like being on a roller coaster. Friday was one of the days when you reach the top of the hill and instead of crashing down in terror, you plunge laughing and waving your arms, feeling exhilarated.  Unfortunately you don’t get to step off the roller coaster at the bottom. But as the ride continues remember that it’s always good to look forward in hopeful anticipation with a positive attitude rather than letting cancer fill you with fear. And make sure you take along fellow riders that give you courage and inspire you. I was going to suggest you might want to find your own little mascot, too—but be warned that they are high maintenance and tend to take over your blog, as well as run your life.

Thank you Jane and Sandra for doing all you can to make sure “treatment” is a “treat!”

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!” 

Hunter S. Thompson

Breast Cancer Press Conference

We’re pausing from our usual light-hearted posts today for (as they say on tv) an important public service announcement.

As most of my blog readers know, I was invited to participate in a press conference for breast cancer month at the Monter Center where I go for treatment. Let me correct that—Stretch and I were invited. They wanted me to talk about living with metastatic breast cancer and how Stretch and the blog have helped me to reach out and encourage others with chronic or life-threatening conditions, while at the same time boosting my own morale as I forget about my troubles and lose myself in some fun writing projects.

While the experience of speaking to the press and seeing myself on the local news was exciting, what mattered most to me was the opportunity to get out that message that is so important to me—whatever you face in life, don’t waste your precious time obsessing about possible negative outcomes or what you’ve lost, and try to keep the fears at bay by finding something you love doing, something that lets you forget about all the bad stuff and literally “zone out.” I think of the time I spend writing fun posts with Stretch as if I’m on an episode of the old Twilight Zone show where I enter a new dimension where I’m not a cancer patient anymore. And through Stretch’s antics, my readers and I get to fantasize what it would be like to live as a pampered teddy bear without a care in the world.

The second part of my message is critical. When you’re faced with a scary diagnosis, who you choose to make your partners in dealing with the disease is more critical than your condition. I feel that I’ve been able to transform my life in amazing ways during the past 5 years. (I was first diagnosed in 2009 and went through 9 months of treatments, after which I was cancer free until the new diagnosis of bone metastasis one year ago.) Much of my courage in dealing with my disease, while at the same time reevaluating my life and making some major changes in my views and the goals I want to accomplish, is due to the constant support and loving care of my doctors.

Dr. Karen Kostroff is Chief of Breast Surgery for the North Shore-LIJ Health System on Long Island. You would never imagine the high goals this woman has achieved from her down-to-earth demeanor. Her empathy and compassion for her patients is always foremost; the very first time I met her, she “diagnosed” exactly what type of oncologist I would want and sent me to Dr. Jane Carleton at the Monter Center.

Dr. Carleton is the most incredible doctor on the planet. I could write at least 20 paragraphs on why I love this doctor, but I think that one statement sums it up perfectly. I told her that I was tempted not to mention how wonderful she is because I don’t want the world beating a path to her office so that I can’t get an appointment. Her response? I will always have time for you.

We now return you to our regular blog format as Stretch takes over:
I enjoyed being part of the press conference and I’m sure everyone was honored to have me there. I would like to add one thing, though. I was disappointed there was no “Green Room” with coffee and donuts. The next time I’m invited, you might want to offer me some refreshments, such as the fun October-themed donuts and coffee my assistant has thoughtfully provided for me while I was waiting to type my part of this blog post.