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.

I’m just so annoyed

It’s happening again. I’m not a full on cancer snob, but I seem to be eye rolling quite a bit. If I hear or read another “courageous” story about so-and-so who had cancer once, twice, three times it came back – I might throw up. I know, it’s horrible to say that but I can’t help it. Oh she had cancer and then they cut it out, and some chemo occurred, then it came back and she had to do it all over again – what a miracle woman!

Just shoot me.

It is unfair to play the “who’s life is worse” game, because everyone has their own experiences. So I silently eye roll and feel this tightness in my chest from frustration. I just want to yell out, “Oh you think that is hard? PLEASE SPARE ME.”

I know, it’s not very nice. So sorry if you fall into this category. It sucks. Having cancer sucks. I get it, TRUST ME. I’m like this with everyone though, I don’t just single out my other cancer peeps. Broken limbs, child birth, minor surgeries, you name it I eye roll them. Sorry. I can’t help it that I feel like I just can’t even come CLOSE to relating.

But like honestly what the actual fuck is my life? How the hell have I gone through all this shit in just 4.5 years… and it’s still not over. Just when I think it’s over, and the hope starts to crawl back in, I get a massive slap in the face. So annoying.

What’s funny is when I meet a new healthcare professional who doesn’t know my history and I have to list it. Watching their face while I list out the dates of my surgeries, how much chemo I’ve had, what my status is now – their jaw drops. The surgeries I have had alone in just 4.5 years are RIDICULOUS. I remember going with Chris to see a taping of Cityline a few years back. They had a guest on who had/has cancer (I can’t remember), and she had 7 or 8 surgeries over a number of years. I remember thinking “Woah, that’s crazy.” I am almost positive that I have either surpassed her or have done it in a much shorter time span. My 7 surgeries don’t even include the multiple day surgeries I have had. Stop cutting me open people! I’d like to not have a panic attack on a cold metal table just for one year. Is that really too much to ask? Now in two weeks I’m getting a port-a-cath put back in which is FABULOUS because now I’m GUARANTEED at least one panic attack a month when they have to flush it. Obviously there will be WAY more every time I step foot into that dreaded chemo room and they start poking me with more needles.

Uggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Can’t someone just give me lots of money so I can go on a trip and forget about life. Maybe just never come back? How long can I survive with this shitty ass liver if I park it on a beach?

If you could have 2 amazing years on a beach or 5 shit ass years on chemo – what would you choose?

SEE WHY THIS SHIT IS SO HARD. Longer life is better but quality of life is also better? Is that even a sentence that makes sense? If you can’t have both, how the fuck do you choose?

Cancer, party of one

Where do I even begin? (I just finished this blog and apparently I had a lot to say. So grab a coffee and a comfortable chair)

My whole plan when I took a break from blogging back in the Fall was to pick it back up after my scan in March. I had this idea that I could share with all of you my amazeball results of my first, second clear scan and then I could FINALLY share what I discovered my passion to be! Of course that fantasy is just that, a fantasy, and the reality is life never seems to be that easy.

I’ll share my passion another time…

For now, I’m just going to share what has been going on in these last few weeks.

My scan was on March 15th and it was a typical scan day. Drank the crap, joked around with my CT tech, got the IV, scan scan scan, then drank litres upon litres of water for the rest of the day to flush out my kidneys. Normal shit. The only change to the whole routine came with the delivery of the results. Back in the Fall I asked my surgeon if he could save me a trip to Toronto and just call me with my results. He agreed. So later that afternoon he called and said the following;

Liver and lungs – clear

Right ovary – unsure, needs more testing

I’m sorry what? Did you just say now I have to worry about my god damn ovaries?

He proceeded to ask about when my last colonoscopy was, how have my bowel movements been, when was my last period, etc etc. Then he let me know he was off to Whistler but I would be getting an ultrasound appointment in the next two weeks. Perfect.

Then my brain entered into rapid fire mode. It was dissecting every word and pronunciation he said and trying to figure out what the underlying message was.

This is what my brain told myself in less than a minute:

When they were first diagnosing me they told me they thought I had cervical cancer that had spread to my liver. So that means that scan showed the shadow in my colon but then thought it was in my cervix. So this one must be showing the same thing and that’s why he’s asking about my last colonoscopy. That also makes sense because it’s probably just stage 1 or 2 and that can be easily cut out but he doesn’t want to worry me because he’s in Whistler for 2 weeks. This also makes sense because my colon is the only place that when they removed the tumours they did not get clean margins. Yep, cancer in the colon is the logical answer. Or it’s in my ovaries. Or both. Start panicking.

So that was a fun night. The next day (Friday) I received my ultrasound appointment, for the Monday. This further spun my idea tighter around my finger because whhhyyyyy would they book me in so fast!? Yep, shit’s going south.

So that weekend was fun.

Monday comes and my ultrasound tech isn’t aloud to say anything about my exam but does say, “Don’t lose sleep over this.” So that calms me down slightly for the next week and a half while I wait for my next phone call.

The results? Oh inconclusive yet AGAIN. Somethings going on and they can’t figure it out and they can’t brush it off either. My surgeon is frustrated with the radiologist who wants to now send me for an MRI. So he asks if it is ok that he takes me case to the next tumour board meeting.

What is that you ask? A bunch of doctors and radiologists will review cases and give their professional opinion on what they think is going on. It’s actually pretty cool. So of course I agree because why wouldn’t I want more eyes reading my file and trying to figure out the mystery of the ovary.

So that’s where I still stand now. The meeting is on Monday and then I will find out what they said on Tuesday and go from there. Almost a full month after my scan and the results are still slightly unknown.

As you were reading this if you thought, “Well at least it’s just an ovary, you can remove those.” You are not alone. My husband, mother, best friend, and mother-in-law all said the EXACT same thing. And yes, you would be correct, I can lose an ovary. My problem with that is that I am not Swiss cheese. It is very easy now for people just to jump to the surgery idea for me without even blinking an eye. That’s how NORMAL surgery has become for me. This summer will be my first summer since 2014 where I haven’t had any surgery. That is just so crazy even to write.

What you need to step back and think for a second is say this wasn’t a story about a girl who has been under the knife more than she can count. What if this was just a regular ole person? Would your first response from an abnormal scan be, “Oh, well you can just lose an ovary!” Probably not. You would probably be worried or upset and have a tad more compassion.

I am not mad at all at the four closest people in my life jumping to that conclusion so fast. I get it. They are just happy that if it is something, it can be removed – aka non life threatening. But to me, I’m not a cadaver. You can’t just keep slicing and dicing me.

Well I mean you can if it saves my life, but that’s not the point.

The point is, as I have said in previous posts – Every piece they cut away is a piece of me. Literally and figuratively. I don’t want another surgery because I don’t want anything to be fucking wrong with me anymore.

If you are actually in my life and are shocked reading this and are thinking to yourself, “Wow, I had no idea all that was going on.” Surprise! That’s what happens when you go on with your own honky dory life and because I removed the cancer sticker plastered on my forehead, why would you ever think I even deal with matters like this anymore right? WRONG.

Here’s the take away for people reading this who are fighting cancer themselves right now- Cancer is an EXTREMELY lonely disease. The people who rally behind you at first drop off one by one every day longer that you still fight to survive. So YOU have to be the strong one. No one else is there anymore to fight your battles and pick you up when you are down. YOU have to wake up every day and choose not to live in the comfortable dark hole and step into the light. YOU have to remain positive and keep telling yourself that you are just fine. YOU have to put a smile on your face in public and act like nothings wrong. If you solely rely on others to raise you up and motivate you, now’s the time to start finding that voice for yourself. I’m telling you the crowd dwindles fast and when you are left alone, take a minute to be sad, and then pick yourself back up, dust off and continue on fighting.

It’s Back

Just when I thought I could start planning my life again, it came back.

My latest scan shows a small spot on my lower right lung. I am trying to look at the positives instead of drowning myself everyday in the negatives.

Positives;

  • It is located on my “good” lung (only one operation)
  • It is not on my liver
  • It is small and easily accessible
  • Surgery is an option

Negatives;

  • I still have cancer

 

But I guess I’ve always known that. It is the message I have been trying to communicate for months now. To all of the hopefuls who exclaimed, “You beat it!” – this is why I was still sad. With stage four cancer, you never really “beat it”. I knew there was a very high chance it would return, and I was hoping it wouldn’t be this fast. So once again I am putting my future life on hold and go back to living one day at a time. Now, it feels like I am just going through the motions. Living in this purgatory state with no direction, just a “see you in April” from my surgeons. If that scan shows minimal growth and no new friends, then operation number seven will take place this summer. There are a million different scenarios that can come into play, but like I said I am taking it day by day. I can and will drive myself crazy if I constantly think of all of the “what ifs”. I have no control over the scan, what I do have control over is my mind and diet. As long as I stick to a clean diet, and try to keep a healthy mind, I am hopeful that I can prevail.

Let’s Talk

A subject I have never been ashamed to speak about is my mental health. I struggle to try and stay in a positive mood, some days more than others. Instead of reminding you of all the ways I’m fucked up, I will inform you of the ways I am helping to take care of myself.

Eating Right – Keeping a clean diet when I am having a rough day is not easy. Nothing feels better then combining my tears with a tub of ice cream. I find however that afterwards I end up feeling worse. Now not only am I sad about whatever made me cry that day, but also upset at myself for eating all that ice cream. If I stick to healthy alternatives it is one less thing I need to be down on myself for. Also, all of those beautiful nutrients keep your cells happy and healthy which is never a bad thing!

Fresh Air – Seems like an easy fix, but pulling yourself off the couch some days can be tough. Just force yourself to get up and go on a quick walk outside, or go for a drive with the windows down. Removing yourself from your current position and feeling the cool breeze on your face can make a world of a difference.

Therapy, Therapy Therapy – I cannot express enough how much therapy has, and will continue to help me. I have been going to group therapy as well as seeing a therapist one-on-one for a while, but I recently have also begun to see a couples therapist. My relationship with my husband is fantastic, however we do struggle in dealing with the emotional aftermath from everything that has gone in the past couple years. Speaking with someone is helping us communicate better when we are feeling overwhelmed, stressed or anxious. It is so easy when you are sad or angry to take it out on a loved one. I am guilty for that. She is teaching us the dance of how we fight, and ways that we can change it so that we better understand what the other person is going through. I find people are often embarrassed to admit they are attending therapy with their partner. This is the wrong perspective. There is nothing shameful for wanting the best out of your relationship. These jobs exist for a reason, because it is COMMON that couples have issues when communicating. I am very thankful that my husband was open to attending when I first asked him. He saw the improvements I have been having one-on-one, and understood how it could now help us move in a more positive direction. I have said it before and I will continue to preach it – EVERYONE can benefit from therapy.

Pets – The love of an animal is such a beautiful thing. They do not care about any of the baggage you have, and just show you unconditional love. Now, I’m not suggesting in order to achieve happiness everyone must go out and adopt a dog (although that would be amazing). If your life style does not best suit a dog, that is understandable. It takes a lot of time and effort to have a dog and it is not for everyone. If this is you, then try to go for a walk at a dog park on a weekend. Not only will you love the fresh air, but these are the best days for PUPPIES. I find my local dog parks are full of puppies on the weekends, and I just love it. Puppies are so clumsy and dopey they can put a smile on anyone’s face.

Well there you have it, just a few of the things that help me to stay sane. You are also allowed to just stay in all day and binge watch tv. There is nothing wrong with telling the rest of the world to fuck off and just sit around in your track pants. Just do it one day though, the next day you have to get up.

Mind Trip

Last night I walked in the door after being in Vegas for 4 days, and it took me 5 minutes to realize I was in a mood. I felt like I would snap at any minute, and then did on Chris. I was frustrated and annoyed and just put myself to bed. Today I woke up feeling the exact same. Tried to take the dog for a walk, but still couldn’t shake this feeling. After showering Chris asked me to come sit down and talk to him so he could try and figure out what’s wrong. One minute later I was crying, and wasn’t sure why. After a few minutes of tears and trying to assess what was going on in my head I figured it out – In Vegas I was the closest thing to my old self. I haven’t felt that way in almost 3 years.

I laughed and laughed, I got drunk and had a hallway dance party to Mariah Carey – I felt free. People would be looking at me for reasons of their own – maybe I was laughing too loud, or dancing like a fool, or for the first time in a long while, because I actually looked pretty and was walking with confidence. All of these feelings in me I have not felt in the longest time. I blended in as just another girl who is having an amazing time in Vegas. I went to bed at night and only thought about how I can’t believe I didn’t hit on roulette, and what tables I would play in the morning. That was it.

Today all of that is gone and I am back to reality.

I broke. Chris sat there and just watched as I went from tears rolling down my face to a full sobbing mess. He tried to make me feel better and say that everyone feels that way when they get home, that’s why it’s called a vacation. But I hated that response and started yelling through my tears, “It’s not the same, it’s not the same, it’s not the same!” I threw my face in my hands and sat there balling my eyes out and trying to catch my breath. I never realized how much I missed my old self until I saw a glimpse of her again. She was fun, confident, independent, smart, care free and beautiful. This new person I am still trying to wrap my brain around. I am better in many ways but worse in others. I feel like a solider who has gone to war. They have seen so much death and despair. They had to wake up everyday and fight for their life, and may have scars to prove it. Then they come home and just have to try and forget everything that their memory won’t let them. They are forever changed.

My break down was interrupted by Chris’s phone ringing, which was perfect. I told him to take it and went back to blow drying my hair. I’ve become really good at putting the cork back in the bottle and just continuing on with my day.