My first Vlog

Two weeks ago I met with Dr. Calvin Law, the Chief of Staff at Sunnybrook hopsital for my second opinion. Then I came home and made a 16 minute video lol. I have been contemplating ever since if I should post it. First, the reason for the video:

Sometimes when I sit down to write a post I feel like even though I am not editing my feelings, the words just don’t express them properly. So I have been debating for a while to try out a video to make it easier to say everything I want to say, but the problem is I am super lazy and do not want to learn how to edit them.

Here are some things you need to know before watching:

First – I was out with my mom all day in Toronto running errands. Then we went to Sunnybrook and were there for 4 hours waiting and talking to the doctors and nurses. Needless to say, I was exhausted.

Second – Chris was away on business so I came home to an empty house.

Third – Sometimes I just need a good cry, and it is constant throughout the entire video.

So – why post it at all? Well I think it is important that you see a glimpse into just how my brain works and the emotions, thoughts and feelings that bounce around within my head. I have never been filtered before, so why edit it down and cut out the quiet moments or the moments where I may not make sense or am wiping my nose.

I will say this, I have not felt this low since. I can’t use the word “rollercoaster” enough in this entire blog, but it so accurately describes my experiences with cancer. I haven’t actually cried in days, so don’t watch this and then freak out and call me (aka – Mom I know you are about to lose it lol)

I do ask one thing though – If you click on the link, please commit to watching the full 16 minutes. Yes, that is a long time to watch me cry and ramble on – but if you can’t handle seeing what it is like to be me for 16 minutes then why the fuck are you even reading this blog?

Young. Female. Cancer. – YouTube

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Ugh

Well it’s been almost three weeks since I found out that chemotherapy will be coming back into my life, and almost four since I found out cancer was even back. I thought it was going to be a whirlwind again of port surgery, and then chemo straight after, but surprisingly it hasn’t worked out that way. I am having my port surgery tomorrow, which I then assume I will be starting chemotherapy the following week. I have had some time to digest the news, and I am starting to not cry multiple times a day. So I’ll take that as a win!

In the mean time, I’ve cleaned up my diet again and started back on mistletoe injections. If you do not know what I am talking about, search “mistletoe” in the bar on the right and read all about it. Cleaning up my diet has consisted of cutting out alcohol, and trying to stay away from foods with processed sugars. I allowed chicken back into my diet a few months ago, so now I am only eating it once a week if I can help it. Raw juice is also back (though it never technically left), but now I am making sure to drink it at least 5 times a week.

What type of chemotherapy will I be on this time? Well that question I still do not have an answer for. I left a message for my oncologist letting him know that I would like a meeting with him first before I start. I have 5000 questions running through my mind and I require answers before they can start injecting me with poison again. A few of them are as follows:

  • Are we looking to kill the cancer or just sustain my life?
  • Can I start on a lower dose?
  • Is FolFiri the best option or is there any others?
  • Are there drugs that cost money that I can be offered?
  • Will I be here every two weeks?
  • How often will I be scanned?
  • In the future can I come every three weeks, or maybe have every third month off?
  • What can we do to lower my anxiety attacks in here?
  • I don’t want to compromise my liver function, so what marker will you be looking at?
  • How much growth of the tumours can my liver take?

I feel it is extremely important to create my own treatment schedule. I know my body, I know what it can take and I know what my limits are. If we are planning on sustaining my life, then I don’t want to have the rest of that involve a bucket for five days every two weeks. My strongest defense against this disease is the fact that I have always been my own advocate. I consistently ask questions and stand up for myself. I do not let any doctor tell me what to do. They have a strong say, but I view it more as a consultation rather than an order. Every conversation with every doctor has been just that – a conversation. Never be afraid to do this for yourself. If you think they will be annoyed by you – then first off, get a new fucking doctor. Every single one has told me that I need to keep being an advocate for myself because I obviously know what I am doing. Look how far it has taken me! My main surgeon thought I would be dead years ago. Maybe I would have been if I didn’t listen to my body and take my life into my own hands. I’ve taken risks and for the most part they have paid off.

My next advocate moment is a second opinion. I trust my surgeon with my life, but if he says that surgery would be too difficult, then let’s find someone who may think differently. Thankfully again, he is on board. I called his office today and gave him a name of a doctor, so I’m just waiting to hear back. His receptionist let me know that he knows him well and will probably call him on his cell – which is perfect.

Side note – If you are wondering where the tricky tumour is – liver or lymph node – well I still do not have an answer. 

So now I am just looking forward to a big anxiety attack tomorrow followed by a lot of crying, which I am sure will last the rest of the week. Having the port-a-cath put back in will be a big reminder that this ride for me is still not over.

By the way – I know everyone means well, but if you have my cell phone number please do not send me a “thinking of you” message tomorrow. I can’t explain why that bothers me so much but it does. I guess when you have been getting them consistently for 4.5 years they start to lose meaning. Like I’ve mentioned before, I’ll reach out when I want to reach out. No one is above this. So if you think “Oh she doesn’t mean me though” – you’re wrong. Sorry if you do not understand – and be thankful if you don’t. That means you have not had a consistently shitty life for an extended period of time.

History of Colon Cancer

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I do not remember the specifics around when my nana passed away, but I always knew it was the liver cancer that did it. I was in grade 5, and my nana was like my second mom. I was devastated when she passed, and to this day the thought of it still brings tears to my eyes.

Three days before my colonoscopy, I asked my mom to provide me with more details around how the cancer killed her. She let me know that nana let her colon get so bad (and hid it from her family), that by the end she was sitting on towels at home due to the amount of blood coming out of her bottom. Those signs were clear indicators that things were really bad, so no one was surprised with her diagnosis that it had spread to her liver. She passed away close to 6 months later.

After her diagnosis, approximately two years later my grandfather (still on my mom’s side), was also diagnosed with colon cancer. He was lucky to have caught it much sooner and his had not spread. He was a cancer survivor. I remember knowing as a young kid that grandpa had a “poo bag”, properly known as a colostomy bag. We went out for lunch one time, and half way through he said he had to leave. In the car on the drive home I realized that his bag had popped open and leaked on his sweater. That memory always stuck with me, and I knew I never wanted a “poo bag”.

Around the age of 17 I began to noticed little traces of blood myself. Since i now knew from my family history that this was the biggest sign of colon cancer, I pushed my doctor to allow me to receive a colonoscopy. It is not common at that age to have that procedure, but I am thankful I did. They discovered I had a fissure, and let me know throughout the years it will be common to see a little bit of ribboning. As the years passed I slowly began to notice it more. Being a paranoid person I would google images of bowel moments from colon cancer patients (FYI, it is disgusting so only do this if you really need to lol). Those images looked nothing like mine, so I brushed it off.

I should also note I had a horrible experience during my first colonoscopy. I was so hungry the night before during my prep I was nauseous. The day of the procedure I had a major anxiety attack on the operating table due to my fear of needles. It was bad, I truthfully I was never looking forward to ever having to do it again. This also clearly played a part as to why I didn’t repush another colonoscopy when my gut was telling me too.