Finding the zen

In preparation for this posting I’ve tried to enter a relaxed state. Therefore, I’ve just taken a warm shower with a variety of scrubs including goats milk soap and cucumber body wash (sounds like a nice salad), as well as washing my head fluff with some lemongrass shampoo. Following this, I splashed my face with water and patted it down with almond oil (a drop will do you). And now, while sitting beside my dad’s puzzle and typing on this keyboard, there is a hot cup of ‘oh so good’ tea, mixing chamomile lemongrass and peppermint. It’s DavidsTea, so you know it’ll be quality.

All of this in effort to forget about the other night and recapture what I was feeling the days before. What was that feeling? Pretty freaking zenned out (i.e. good).

Last week kicked off with a facial from my mother’s long-time friend, Jane. Ohhh delicious. I’ve never had a facial before, so it was quite something. Hmmm, one word for a facial: refresh.

Chemo leads to exhaustion, and exhaustion means a lack of attention – I stopped washing my face, stopped wearing make-up, stopped trying to look pretty. Heck, I stopped enjoying showers, which was unfortunate for anyone within 2 meters.  The facial Jane gave was a refreshment, it stripped off the past six months through lotions, soaps and scrubs, and helped me find a new face (and neck and chest).  I’ve since been trying to reinvigorate my skin. And just the other day my good friend said I have more colour than before. Awesome.

Two days following the facial (and an afternoon of rest, for some reason I was knackered after the facial, though Jane did warn it would happen) I had a massage from Brian at my parent’s office. It focused on my lymphatic system, targeting areas that were holding stress. Any guess where my stress was held? Ding! You’ve guessed it: my right breast, arm and back area.  Apart from being relaxing, the massage is designed to get things draining. One word for a lymphatic massage: release.

Funny, in England cancer patients have access to free massage therapy, acupuncture, reiki and aromatherapy – but I never managed to use any of these services (except acupuncture, but not free since I wanted TCM). So, why not? Partly because the treatments took place at the hospital, and party because of nerves – I was too nervous to accept this complimentary help. Chemo drugs are tricky, for me they really affected my anxiety. However, now that I’m having complimentary therapies, it is clear that massage would have been really helpful during treatments. But at least I had the acupuncture.

Finally, last Friday, I cashed in my Christmas present: a trip to le Nordik. Going to the Nordik is somewhat like having chocolate fondue – decadent, hot, and oh so amazing. This is a spa set on the outskirts of Gatineau park. Amoungst the trees, rocks and waterfalls, the Nordik visitor goes through a circuit: sauna, cold pool, steam room, cold pool, rest. And repeat as desired. Mom and I love this place.  By the time we hit our third cycle, sweat was pouring down my face. This lack of hair means that sweat can drip unhindered (drip, run, pour, glisten, gush). One word for visiting the spa: escape.

All these treatments are designed to remove toxins from the body – facial, massage and sauna. Whether you push it out, scrub it out, or sweat it out: key word is out.

And last Saturday I was feeling excellent. Woke up singing, put on makeup, went out with a friend, and had a great time. Yes, later in the evening I had a panic attack – but I don’t blame the detox, not to say it wasn’t involved. A rash on the body is the body’s reaction while trying to remove toxins – but it’s also an indicator that the body’s garbage-removal-service isn’t in good order. But let’s not focus on the down moment. There are better things to talk about.

Anyhow, this week I’m back with my brother and the acupressure. Therefore, I’m back to feeling good about feeling good.

It was a lovely week, which might explain why I didn’t write (too stuck into the good vibes). Since this ordeal can be so overwhelming, it’s got to be broken down – helping my body heal is a great first step.

Hmm, now it’s time to stop typing. Computers are wonderful, but they’re totally not zen.  Right now, I choose to relax. That’s another awesome treatment and totally effortless (which is the point).

Bye!

A little night maddness

Last night was slightly manic. Combine watching the last episode of Ugly Betty where Molly dies from cancer with staying up too late and an itchy nipple, and things turn a little crazy.

Before finding the cancer in my breast, my nipple had become permanently erect and frequently itchy. Stupid being stupid, I didn’t go to the doctor and ask  for a check up. Instead I kept thinking, “how annoying, how very annoying.” And that was all.

Now I think: OH MY GOD, CANCER.

The other end of the panic spectrum.

It was late last night when I felt an itch, about 11.30 – I reached across my nipple to scratch, felt it was erect and sat up in bed immediately. Light switch on, finger probing and I’m checking for lumps (for the `1000th time in the past two weeks). Rubbing here and there, I check every possible area and feel every possible dent, rise, mound, rib and space. But this breast is bumpy – it’s a dense breast; bumpy is the natural state. So what am I looking for? What would be different last night from yesterday morning, or the day before, or the day before?

But all this rubbing spreads the itch and now I see red marks. Red marks. ‘RASH!’ I think to myself. (or was it all that rubbing?) Checking this morning I can spot a spot here or there, but then again, I can spot a spot all over my body. It’s not hard to find panic signals when you’re desperately looking for them.

Therefore, my panic tail spins and I am convinced it’s a reoccurrence. I want to cry and hide and scream and crumple. It’s now about midnight and the house is silent, everyone is sleeping. What to do? GOOGLE!

So on goes the computer and my fingers start tapping in key words: itchy nipple. Erect nipple. Rash on nipple. Itchy nipple erect rash.

Breast cancer breast cancer breast cancer.

This is not helping me sleep. Instead my mind is turning in circles. My baseline fear of reoccurrence has suddenly jumped from here to HERE. I’m just fucking scared.

But what can you do in the middle of the night, head exhausted, nipple itchy, no one to talk to? Well, all I could do was write Zsolt an email and say exactly how I felt, exactly what I was seeing, and exactly how freaking crazy this was becoming.

It is crazy – crazy that fear is so gripping. Before I’d heard that people often become paranoid, hypochondriacs to some degree, following a battle with cancer. Every ache, scratch, fever, or itchy nipple is a symptom. How long does it take for this fear to stop?

Eventually I fell asleep, and first thing the following morning marched upstairs to my parents room and had my Mom look over the breast. She checked it out, talked me down, and reassured me this is probably an overreaction. This soon after chemotherapy it is unlikely I’d have a tumour developed within my breast.

Unlikely.

Today I’m calmer (following some quality family time), but nevertheless battered from my crazy night. Come next Tuesday I’ll be meeting with Dr Canada, so maybe he can take a look and provide an expert opinion. And Zsolt says that if I keep being stressed we can visit the doctor in England to get an ultrasound arranged. After all, peace of mind is wonderful for one’s health.

Peace of mind. It sounds lovely. Another thing on my ‘cancer recovery list’ is peace of mind. Maybe I’ll even write it twice: Peace of mind, and more peace of mind. It’s worth a double helping.

What comes next?

Yesterday morning I visited a clinic in Ottawa that combines medical practices with alternative therapies. For me this concept is far from radical; my parents’ practices involve chiropractic, naturopathic, holistic, and intuitive healing approaches. I grew up learning about craniosacral therapy and homeopathic medicine and how emotions effect our bodies. But this clinic does offer something different: intravenous vitamin C.

From what I’ve researched there’s been evidence showing that intravenous vitamin C can help reduce tumours in the body. Apparently the vitamin C turns into hydrogen peroxide and somehow (can’t remember how, but feel free to look this up if you like) cancer cells fail in that environment. Anyhow, that is the idea. So yesterday we (Marcelle and I) hoped to learn more about this option and see whether I’d be eligible for treatment. I don’t have a tumour in my body, but do I really have to wait until one appears before trying to kill more cancer cells?

After a really long ‘taking of the history’ (about 30 minutes worth of questions where a man stared at his computer and typed in my answers) we met the doctor. He seems a competent fellow.

“First thing, you have to give up gluten,” he tells me. Sigh. Further enforcement that I can no longer eat my pizzas, langos, or molasses cookies from Starbucks. But Mom (Marcelle) has been telling me this all along. Fair enough – during chemo I ate everything and anything, but now that it’s over my diet needs to adapt.

He then proceeded to question why cancer appeared in my body. He has five areas that might cause illness: physical trauma (surgeries, injuries etc), emotional trauma (any big stessors in the past?), infections (do you wake up feeling achy, do you get chills unexpectedly?), toxicity (have you been around any factories lately?), and fifth – the category he thinks I fall into – immune system problems.

And maybe we should add genetics, which can give one  a predisposition to cancer . . .  although, that cancer still needs to be activated, so maybe the question here would be: what triggered your cancer gene to wake up?

Anyhow, why immune system problems? Well I get allergies like crazy, I may have had chicken pox twice, and clearly my immune system wasn’t working properly when it failed to kill those original cancer cells forming in my breast.

Interesting aside: cancer cells are often forming in our body, but a tip-top immune system destorys these rude buggers before they become a problem.

And here is something strange – for about a year before my cancer I had terrible allergies. Frankly, I should have left my apartment ages ago, but the location and rent are both excellent. So I tolerated the allergies. But after my mastectomy those allergies disappeared for months, only returning recently. Was it the strangely dry summer? Was is the shock to my body? Was it because the cancer was gone? Who knows. All I can say is that allergies have always been a problem, and never ever would I have connected them to cancer. In fact, I’d once heard that people with allergies were less likely to get cancer because they react so easily. However, on the other hand (and now I’m rambling) maybe an overworked immune system begins to tire eventually and miss important stuff.

Anyhow, in order to look at what may have caused my cancer he suggested the following (much of which my parents have already suggested, and in some cases done)

First, some tests to check what caused the cancer:

Allergy testing – what foods do I react to?

Hormones – what type of estrogen does my body produce?

Well, this is where Marcelle, my mom, steps in: we’re going to wait on the allergy testing for my body to recover from the chemotherapy. At the moment, I’m likely more reactive to all kinds of things.  And as for hormones, I’ve already had my estrogen tested. Shame I didn’t’ have it tested WAYYYYY earlier, because one of my estrogens – 4-Hydroxestrone (4-OHE 1), which apparently has been connected to cancer development, is really high. Like, really high. It would have been nice to catch that earlier (i.e. before the cancer developed).

But good news: it’s a baseline for me to compare against in the future. We’re working on correcting my estrogen, and so in the future I’ll get tested again and see if the bad stuff has been reduced.

Next: addressing the cancer at hand.

He had a lot of ideas, and I thought, ‘this is good, it’s great to be able to keep fighting even after the treatment has finished.’ And true, Mom already has me doing much of this stuff (even though I didn’t know it) but I think it might be useful to write it down here in case anyone wants to bring it up with their doctor (or their naturopath, or doctor who focuses on alternative therapies, etc).

Read “Anti-Cancer” –  Haven’t read this, can’t tell you if it’s any good. However, the doctor yesterday thought it was absolutely worth a read. I wonder if my library carries the title?

Start exercising – Easier said than done following chemotherapy, but certainly a good idea. I’m starting with Just Dance and will hopefully begin walking when I’m home – then soon Yoga and maybe swimming. We’ll see.

Take anti-oxidants. He gave me some specific ones, though I cannot quite remember why – apparently it will help with my liver, damaged nerves (fingers are still messed up) and address the toxins in the body. How this is specifically cancer-related is a bit confusing to me.

Medicinal mushrooms. Oh man! I just hate mushrooms – but apparently they’re great for fighting cancer. This isn’t the first time I’ve been told to increase my mushrooms. Mind you, he said it might interfere with the tamoxifem, so it was then crossed off the list. However, if I wasn’t taking Tamoxifen, I’d consider these ‘medicinal mushrooms’.

Eat brassica vegetables – this is something my mother-in-law pointed out to me ages ago. Broccoli, Cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, etc. Apparently they’re great for reducing the bad estrogen that is so outrageously high in my body.

Melatonin. I don’t know the exact story behind this one. Apparently this is something we produce in our sleep, and a lack of it has been related to cancer. Anyhow, he suggested to take one before falling asleep each night. It’s not a sleeping pill, but does induce deeper rest.

Mistletoe shots. Ewww, more needles. Apparently there is evidence that this can help, even though it’s not a shot any oncologist has mentioned to me.  I want to look into this more before deciding whether or not to move forward.

Intravenous vitamin C – the entire reason for my presence at this clinic, because honestly my parents are aware of all of the above for fighting cancer. Apparently they administer this treatment and tumours can (not always, but can) shrink. However because I don’t have a tumour it seems slightly unclear about how he would proceed.

Now here is the thing. It’s great to have these lists and all the ideas for fighting. After the treatment I think – apart from tamoxifem, because my cancer was estrogen positive – we patients are kicked out of the nest and expected to fly. “Go forth into the world, my patients, and live!” (i.e. keep being alive, and then in five years if no reoccurrence has developed you are cured! Yay!)

BUT regardless of this list with proactive initiatives, I’m still exhausted. It is EXHAUSTING to navigate through the shock, the coping, the chemo, the therapy and then, of course, the suspense. Anyone who has been sick can understand – and I do not only mean cancer, but the kind of sick that kicks your ass and slaps you down.

And frankly, without my parents and husband pushing me along –getting me these tests, checking on my diet, encouraging me to exercise, helping me cope with stress – all this ‘fight fight fight’ would deflate into ‘sleep sleep sleep’. Lucky for me that my parents are health care practitioners, lucky for me that my brother is an acupuncturist, lucky for me that I have people who know what to do next.

But if I didn’t have these incredible resources, it’d be worth seeking them out. After all, I’m only 28 years old  – there’s a whole life ahead of me and I don’t want to miss a thing.

What the doctor told me yesterday helped solidify the efforts that my parents have all along been promoting. Therefore, it was a worthwhile visit. After all, it isn’t instinctual for a kid to listen to their mom and dad. Doctors yes, parents . . . not so easy.

One more thing for the list (to cope with the fall out of chemo, and something that’s unique to my parents because this doctor didn’t mention it at all): detox. That’ll be coming up soon, but not until the radiotherapy is done.

Anyhow, it was a really interesting visit.

* Another thing to consider, did birth control play a role in my getting cancer? I was on the thing for seven years, it’s connected to my hormones . . . funny the topic didn’t arise during my consultation.  Anyhow, it’s done with now, but I’m still curious. I guess there will always be questions.