I came back home from Minnesota feeling icky. First, the travel itself was hard. I was grateful to a dear friend for helping me with my bag from the airport to my room. He did the same thing for my return home and escorted me to the check-in counter to drop off my bag. Then the conference schedule was heavily packed. Mentally, I was thrilled. I was stimulated the whole time. It was awesome to be able to talk about the work we do as Deaf interpreters. Physically, I was worn out but I kept on going until the end of the conference. Mentally, I am grateful for that. Physically, I am paying the consequences now. I got home at 3 AM Thursday morning due to flight delays. And then I crashed.
My infection got worse. This is my third surgery-related infection. This one has been around for about 10 weeks. It resulted into a huge abscess that started to bother me very much three weeks ago. I struggled with sitting. I was put on a round of antibiotics again. I started to feel better after a few days. The abscess was shrinking. Yay. It was not gone when I left for Minnesota. I hoped that it would go away on it own after I was done with the antibiotics. Nope. It became worse.
I had a follow-up with my internal medicine doctor this morning to check on the abscess. I was hurting. Everything hurts when I sit down. She checked on it and find that the inflammation has become worse and the abscess has grown bigger. It now measures 3.5 inches long, 1.5 inches wide and .5 inch deep. She is working with Dr. Jewell to see how it can be resolved. Dr. Jewell wanted a CT scan to take a closer look at the abscess and see if it affected the surrounding areas. I dreaded doing the CT scan... because today's scan was my fourth CT scan with contrast in the past six weeks. Yep... I had to drink the radioactive crap and get it injected inside me. I had been doing well the first three CT scans but today it made me really sick. I am starting another course of antibiotics in hopes that it will make the infection go away for once and all. It's a stronger type of antibiotics and I was advised to eat yogurt with it because it would make me nauseous. Radioactive crap and first doses... a terrible combination. Forcing myself to eat some dinner tonight helped but after an hour, I'm nauseous all over again. Sitting is too irritating to the abscess so I was advised to lay down to minimize the pressure on that area or I can stand and walk around. If I'm not better by Wednesday, they are going to have to open up and drain the abscess. My doctor does not want to do that because it increases the risk of more infection.
I came home in tears. I feel frustrated. I want to be BETTER. I don't want to see doctors for a while. I don't want to be poked. I don't want to take any radioactive crap or medications. I don't want to be sick. I laid in my bed for a while today as I worked. It did feel good to lay down again. I was so thrilled to stop laying down following the surgery that I was ready to be on my feet once again. Today, I felt like I was returning home when I laid in the bed this afternoon. It's okay to lay down sometime. Recovery is a gradual process.... and it is testing my patience.
As I struggled today with all that was going on with me physically, there was this person who kept on demanding that I reply to her emails or call her. I did not see any of my personal emails the whole day until I got out of the bed. Her last email was full of hurtful language. I do feel bad for her frustration of not hearing from me. I must confess... since I got diagnosed with cancer, I am valuing my private time even more. I am behind on emails some days but... it is my way of recollecting myself before I face the world. I can not attend to everything and everyone at once. That's one big con about emails. Prompt responses are expected. I miss the good ol' pony express. People expected less from me back then. Sometime I need to just curl up in my bed and rest while I shut out the world. Frankly, there's nothing wrong with that. Let me be, please.
Friday, June 26, 2015
Monday, June 22, 2015
A Birthday Post
A dear friend sent me a video message today wishing me a happy birthday. The English translation of her message in ASL was as follows:
"Wow. What a year! Crazy! You survived one more year. You experienced grieving, heartbreak, and suffering. And you still showed your strength, resiliency, and your internal Amazon woman spirit. I love you for who you are and your fight and your willingness and capability to explain your experience to help me better understand my world as well as your world. Happy birthday from one of your dear friends. Thank you for your friendship. I love you."
Yep... what a year. This particular birthday feels bittersweet to me.
I am in Minnesota for a conference this week. This morning's plenary speaker is currently fighting metastatic stage 4 colon cancer. Her presentation hit me hard for many reasons. I am sure I will discuss specifics of her presentation in future posts as I process those with more time. She said one thing that resonated with me on my birthday. She said that there's no such thing as being cancer-free. Doctors say that just to mean that they did series of treatments to stop the cancer for the time-being. The cancer is just in remission for now. It could come back to haunt a survivor later down the road, whether it is a few months or two decades. I sat there quietly and wondered to myself, "When will the cancer come back? Will it come back?" She explained that there's no cure which was exactly what I posted a few months ago. There are treatments that stop the cancer from acting up for a certain period of time. She described those treatments as a way to prolong your life. True.
After getting my diagnosis five months ago, I did not think I would see my next birthday. I did not think I would make it to this historic conference which is the first ever Deaf Interpreters Conference. Yet, I submitted a proposal to present at this conference and I got accepted. They asked me to finalize program book materials two weeks after my surgery. I was heavily drugged as I threw everything together. I will present tomorrow on one of my research studies. I will just keep on living and thriving. I don't know if I will see my next birthday. It is not a guarantee for any of us anyway, cancer or not. I can just take it a day at a time. I can focus on making it a great day. And the reality is, that's the best I can do.
"Wow. What a year! Crazy! You survived one more year. You experienced grieving, heartbreak, and suffering. And you still showed your strength, resiliency, and your internal Amazon woman spirit. I love you for who you are and your fight and your willingness and capability to explain your experience to help me better understand my world as well as your world. Happy birthday from one of your dear friends. Thank you for your friendship. I love you."
Yep... what a year. This particular birthday feels bittersweet to me.
I am in Minnesota for a conference this week. This morning's plenary speaker is currently fighting metastatic stage 4 colon cancer. Her presentation hit me hard for many reasons. I am sure I will discuss specifics of her presentation in future posts as I process those with more time. She said one thing that resonated with me on my birthday. She said that there's no such thing as being cancer-free. Doctors say that just to mean that they did series of treatments to stop the cancer for the time-being. The cancer is just in remission for now. It could come back to haunt a survivor later down the road, whether it is a few months or two decades. I sat there quietly and wondered to myself, "When will the cancer come back? Will it come back?" She explained that there's no cure which was exactly what I posted a few months ago. There are treatments that stop the cancer from acting up for a certain period of time. She described those treatments as a way to prolong your life. True.
After getting my diagnosis five months ago, I did not think I would see my next birthday. I did not think I would make it to this historic conference which is the first ever Deaf Interpreters Conference. Yet, I submitted a proposal to present at this conference and I got accepted. They asked me to finalize program book materials two weeks after my surgery. I was heavily drugged as I threw everything together. I will present tomorrow on one of my research studies. I will just keep on living and thriving. I don't know if I will see my next birthday. It is not a guarantee for any of us anyway, cancer or not. I can just take it a day at a time. I can focus on making it a great day. And the reality is, that's the best I can do.
Sunday, June 14, 2015
One Thing at a Time
I have sorely missed blogging. It's been a long while. I had two major deadlines that required me to dive right into my academic life. Yep, I was revising two papers that I submitted for publication. Those are papers about two research studies I did. Nope, they are not my dissertation topics. They were just two research projects I decided to do for fun during my doctoral program. Yep, I am a nerd. One was submitted long before I got my diagnosis. One was submitted about a month before my surgery at Mike's encouragement. I was ready to quit everything after my cancer diagnosis but Mike told me I had to keep on living my life. I forgot all about those submissions as I battled the big C.
The editors came back to me about a month ago with feedback. I planned to wait until the summer to return to my academic life, meaning get back to work on my dissertation proposal, as I wanted to give myself some more time to recover. Nope. The publishers had a deadline. Why did they have to come at the same time!?! I don't know. I felt overwhelmed because I continue to struggle with filling up my schedule. I still find myself exhausted at the end of day, having accomplished not as much as I would before the cancer. I just dove right in. I finished one manuscript last week. I finished another one today. Phew. I am tired but I'm having this high. It's the same high I feel when I passed my candidacy and comprehensive exams in the doctoral program.
I was remarking to a friend the other day that I don't know if I could do my first semester all over again. My first semester in the doctorate program was like this: I was working full-time and I was taking six courses at the same time. Granted, it was a suicide mission but I pulled it off. Post-surgery, can I do that? I don't know. I'm tired a lot. A breast cancer survivor friend who has been in remission for two years said she's still tired. Cancer is like that. It slams you right in the face when you least expect it. And when you are done, you need the time to recover from whatever your body has been through. I was on a good track of returning to my workout routine but that slowed down recently. I had been having some pains for several weeks. I thought it was part of the whole process. Two weeks ago, the pain got so bad that I could not sit comfortably nor do sitting poses in yoga. I decided to see my primary care physician last Tuesday to see what's up. She found that it was an abscess that has been growing for weeks and it finally got the best of me. I am on antibiotics that is making it go away slowly. I am happy to report that the pain is slowly going away. I avoided taking pain medications because I needed a clear head to write the papers! Now that I am done, it is nice knowing that it's an option if the pain bothers me really bad.
I ran into a breast cancer survivor at a gathering the other night. She said that she learned one thing. She would just allow herself to schedule one thing/activity for each day and not commit to subsequent activities unless she could manage to finish the first one. I felt that was a good advice and something I could live with. Rather than feeling overwhelmed and drowning to the point that I get frustrated with myself for not accomplishing as much as I set out to. Again, another valuable lesson in patience.
The past two weeks it's been all about writing, rewriting, and rewriting. I ached to do other things such as writing more entries for this blog. I wanted to continue working on my art project. I wanted to... I wanted to... I wanted to... yada yada. Now that I am done with the papers, I knew that the first thing I wanted to do was to blog! Now I want to crash and have a long slumber. I certainly lost sleep over those papers and I am still recovering. Good night, folks!
The editors came back to me about a month ago with feedback. I planned to wait until the summer to return to my academic life, meaning get back to work on my dissertation proposal, as I wanted to give myself some more time to recover. Nope. The publishers had a deadline. Why did they have to come at the same time!?! I don't know. I felt overwhelmed because I continue to struggle with filling up my schedule. I still find myself exhausted at the end of day, having accomplished not as much as I would before the cancer. I just dove right in. I finished one manuscript last week. I finished another one today. Phew. I am tired but I'm having this high. It's the same high I feel when I passed my candidacy and comprehensive exams in the doctoral program.
I was remarking to a friend the other day that I don't know if I could do my first semester all over again. My first semester in the doctorate program was like this: I was working full-time and I was taking six courses at the same time. Granted, it was a suicide mission but I pulled it off. Post-surgery, can I do that? I don't know. I'm tired a lot. A breast cancer survivor friend who has been in remission for two years said she's still tired. Cancer is like that. It slams you right in the face when you least expect it. And when you are done, you need the time to recover from whatever your body has been through. I was on a good track of returning to my workout routine but that slowed down recently. I had been having some pains for several weeks. I thought it was part of the whole process. Two weeks ago, the pain got so bad that I could not sit comfortably nor do sitting poses in yoga. I decided to see my primary care physician last Tuesday to see what's up. She found that it was an abscess that has been growing for weeks and it finally got the best of me. I am on antibiotics that is making it go away slowly. I am happy to report that the pain is slowly going away. I avoided taking pain medications because I needed a clear head to write the papers! Now that I am done, it is nice knowing that it's an option if the pain bothers me really bad.
I ran into a breast cancer survivor at a gathering the other night. She said that she learned one thing. She would just allow herself to schedule one thing/activity for each day and not commit to subsequent activities unless she could manage to finish the first one. I felt that was a good advice and something I could live with. Rather than feeling overwhelmed and drowning to the point that I get frustrated with myself for not accomplishing as much as I set out to. Again, another valuable lesson in patience.
The past two weeks it's been all about writing, rewriting, and rewriting. I ached to do other things such as writing more entries for this blog. I wanted to continue working on my art project. I wanted to... I wanted to... I wanted to... yada yada. Now that I am done with the papers, I knew that the first thing I wanted to do was to blog! Now I want to crash and have a long slumber. I certainly lost sleep over those papers and I am still recovering. Good night, folks!
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Profound Conversations
The past two weeks I had some interesting conversations about endometrial cancer and my journey. I just wanted to write about them primarily because I am still processing those conversations.
A woman had her hysterectomy 45 years ago. I sat down with her over a delicious lunch and we talked about our surgical experience. She said she suspected that she had cancer in her uterus or something because her doctor said that she had abnormal growth that should have not been inside "down there". He did not discuss details other than that she needed a hysterectomy. Her husband, on the other hand, had colon cancer. Cancer was a word that was used comfortably when it came to other parts of the body. When cancer affects private parts, people do not discuss it, period. Times have changed, indeed. However, I still meet people who are surprised by how 'brave' I am to openly discuss the cancer that impacted my reproductive system and private parts. I do it for the sake of spreading awareness. The other day, I met an eastern European woman who said she had stage 1 cancer "down there". I was thrilled to meet a young woman who dealt with something like I did. I asked more questions. She brushed away my questions and said, "It's been taken care of." I wanted to ask how. She wouldn't disclose. I told her I had cancer and had surgery too. She still wouldn't discuss further. I think this type of cancer continues to be taboo for many.
A man posted in a Facebook group that I am part of, saying that his wife was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. He asked what they can expect going forward. Mike piped in. Yay, Mike.
"Be incredibly supportive and sensitive to the turmoil-ish feelings that your wife is about to endure. This IS happening to her.
Her confusion, anger, depression, and whatever other feelings she may endure... is valid.
Be prepared to make oncologist visits a part of your life routine.
Most of all... listen and love her. Her life just turned upside down. Yours too.
Sending you both our best during your new journey."
Reading this from Mike's perspective was touching. It's like Mike's telling him to be a team player rather than watching his wife from the sideline deal with the whole thing. At the same time, I am saddened by the stark reality that oncologist visits have become part of my life routine, namely... my new normal. The other day, a friend asked me, "How is your new normal?" I responded, "I am still figuring that out."
The new routine was precisely the reason why the director of the Annapolis Wellness House said I should come and participate in their activities. Annapolis Wellness House is a godsend gem. Our landlady, upon learning about my cancer, recommended that I check this place out. It's a gorgeous 1870's house on a horse ranch. They offer a place for cancer patients, cancer survivors, and family to sit, read, and converse with others. They offer free yoga, Pilates, crafts classes and many more. I hesitated to go because my ride with the cancer was a brief one-- hormone therapy did not work. Now... surgery. And I am cancer-free for now. I told her I did not know if I deserved to go. She said that if I have to see an oncologist for the rest of my life, then I qualify. The center's philosophy is that cancer patients become survivors the day they are diagnosed. I kept on beating the bush. She said to come when I was ready. I finally went last week with Mike supporting me. We loved the place and the people.
Mike and I talked on a walk together yesterday... he said that it was really nice to be able to talk about us and our life together again because we had been dealing with this cancer for a few months. Yep. Cancer can suck a lot of your time and attention. Thank you, Mike... for being such a supportive partner the past few months. I look forward to just living our lives. Onward.
A woman had her hysterectomy 45 years ago. I sat down with her over a delicious lunch and we talked about our surgical experience. She said she suspected that she had cancer in her uterus or something because her doctor said that she had abnormal growth that should have not been inside "down there". He did not discuss details other than that she needed a hysterectomy. Her husband, on the other hand, had colon cancer. Cancer was a word that was used comfortably when it came to other parts of the body. When cancer affects private parts, people do not discuss it, period. Times have changed, indeed. However, I still meet people who are surprised by how 'brave' I am to openly discuss the cancer that impacted my reproductive system and private parts. I do it for the sake of spreading awareness. The other day, I met an eastern European woman who said she had stage 1 cancer "down there". I was thrilled to meet a young woman who dealt with something like I did. I asked more questions. She brushed away my questions and said, "It's been taken care of." I wanted to ask how. She wouldn't disclose. I told her I had cancer and had surgery too. She still wouldn't discuss further. I think this type of cancer continues to be taboo for many.
A man posted in a Facebook group that I am part of, saying that his wife was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. He asked what they can expect going forward. Mike piped in. Yay, Mike.
"Be incredibly supportive and sensitive to the turmoil-ish feelings that your wife is about to endure. This IS happening to her.
Her confusion, anger, depression, and whatever other feelings she may endure... is valid.
Be prepared to make oncologist visits a part of your life routine.
Most of all... listen and love her. Her life just turned upside down. Yours too.
Sending you both our best during your new journey."
Reading this from Mike's perspective was touching. It's like Mike's telling him to be a team player rather than watching his wife from the sideline deal with the whole thing. At the same time, I am saddened by the stark reality that oncologist visits have become part of my life routine, namely... my new normal. The other day, a friend asked me, "How is your new normal?" I responded, "I am still figuring that out."
The new routine was precisely the reason why the director of the Annapolis Wellness House said I should come and participate in their activities. Annapolis Wellness House is a godsend gem. Our landlady, upon learning about my cancer, recommended that I check this place out. It's a gorgeous 1870's house on a horse ranch. They offer a place for cancer patients, cancer survivors, and family to sit, read, and converse with others. They offer free yoga, Pilates, crafts classes and many more. I hesitated to go because my ride with the cancer was a brief one-- hormone therapy did not work. Now... surgery. And I am cancer-free for now. I told her I did not know if I deserved to go. She said that if I have to see an oncologist for the rest of my life, then I qualify. The center's philosophy is that cancer patients become survivors the day they are diagnosed. I kept on beating the bush. She said to come when I was ready. I finally went last week with Mike supporting me. We loved the place and the people.
Mike and I talked on a walk together yesterday... he said that it was really nice to be able to talk about us and our life together again because we had been dealing with this cancer for a few months. Yep. Cancer can suck a lot of your time and attention. Thank you, Mike... for being such a supportive partner the past few months. I look forward to just living our lives. Onward.
Sunday, May 24, 2015
My Name is Naomi and You Don't Walk In My Shoes
My recovery process continues as I continue to ponder on lessons learned from this experience. I have some reflections that I want to write about in my blog down the road. Some posts take time to develop. Some posts are instantaneous. I met a woman at a gathering last night that made me feel like I wanted to write this post as soon as possible. This post is not entirely about her per se but what she represented, namely the individuals I have met during this journey.
During this process, I have had people judge me for the choices I made. Assumptions were made. Labels and diagnoses were made. "Endometrial cancer- no biggie! It's not aggressive." "You should do this", "you should do that." You do not know my whole story to make any judgmental calls. You just don't know. Butt out.
My name is Naomi. I grew up in a home that banned soda and emphasized healthy eating. Fast food joints were frowned upon. At age 20, I decided to keep up with the latest research studies about how to prevent cancer and any diseases. I was determined to live a long, healthy life. Granted I'm not perfect. I do not drink pop. I do not drink alcohol excessively. I do not smoke. I do not do drugs. I avoid fast food places as much as possible. I avoid restaurants with bad rap sheets according to Center on the Science of Public Interest. When I travel, I religiously take my lunch bag with healthy, hydrating food/ snacks (i.e. salads, cucumber, bell peppers). I do not eat red meat often. I avoid processed food. I avoid food with chemicals and antibiotics. I cook practically everything from scratch. As I am typing this post, I am eating an arugula salad with grapefruit, orange, fennel, and avocado topped with mint-parsley-EVOO-lemon dressing. Yum. A few years ago, I decided to start drinking what people call, "That green goop," or "what the heck is that green crap?!" It is a vegetable smoothie made of spinach, chard, kale, broccoli, cucumber, celery, purple cabbage, ginger root, and pure coconut water. I find that it's a great energy booster for the afternoon slump. It keeps my mind alert and fresh. And it's a great source of fiber. It took a while for me to grow used to it. I work out. I swim. I walk. I do yoga. I play racquetball. My weaknesses: chocolate and gourmet food.
Yet I got cancer. What the heck!?! I remember I was so angry when I found out. I did not want to drink the green goop anymore. I wanted to eat junk food. What was the point?! Drinking the green goop and eating healthily is part of who I am. I eventually returned to my habits because they made me feel good. They made my body feel good on the inside. I would never understand why I got cancer. It did not make sense. I tried everything to avoid cancer. Oh well.
Back to the point... the woman last night. She was talking about how she had pre-cancerous cells found in her cervix. Her ob/gyn wanted to do surgery. She refused. She said that she turned things around by eating better and did some chakra cleansing. Then she went on to say that cancer is really nothing. Cancer exists to wake us up to signal to us that we are doing something wrong with our lives. She described that surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation were forms of escape from facing your own negative energies. She went on to talk down to me about chakra as if I was someone who knew nil. I stopped her and said that I knew about chakras. She said, "Oh it's okay if you already had surgery... you still can do something about your issues." Yep, she was a tad too preachy and harsh. I walked outside for a breather. It was just TOO soon after my surgery to hear this. To hear that someone thought I made the wrong choice. Making the choice to do the surgery was one of the most difficult decisions I ever had to make. I still agonize over that decision up to this day. I had the bad kind of endometrial cancer. If I had a better kind of cancer, I might have chosen a different route. I lost my motivation to play the game with the ladies last night. And it was my favorite game. Dang.
I have had some moments where I blurted out things and then immediately wish I could take them back. This kind of experience makes me become more mindful about what I say and do. Of course, I still struggle with this. It's an ongoing process. Being a good person is a work in progress, constantly. I dislike unwelcome and unwanted opinions and advice. You do not know my whole story. You are not walking in my own shoes. Please be mindful before you make claims. Be mindful when you talk about something as sensitive as cancer because you never know the person sitting next to you may just survived a battle with cancer. Be kind. Be open. Be observant. Listen. Do not tell. Do not judge. Do not be condescending.
This experience made me feel like I wanted to step back in my safe little bubble and stay there to avoid any social situations in which I may end up crossing paths with people who made me feel like shit for the decisions I made. It feels safer to stay there than being slapped in the face. Oh yeah... one of those decisions involved saving my own life. Uhm... I thought that was a good thing, no? Hmm. Onward.
During this process, I have had people judge me for the choices I made. Assumptions were made. Labels and diagnoses were made. "Endometrial cancer- no biggie! It's not aggressive." "You should do this", "you should do that." You do not know my whole story to make any judgmental calls. You just don't know. Butt out.
My name is Naomi. I grew up in a home that banned soda and emphasized healthy eating. Fast food joints were frowned upon. At age 20, I decided to keep up with the latest research studies about how to prevent cancer and any diseases. I was determined to live a long, healthy life. Granted I'm not perfect. I do not drink pop. I do not drink alcohol excessively. I do not smoke. I do not do drugs. I avoid fast food places as much as possible. I avoid restaurants with bad rap sheets according to Center on the Science of Public Interest. When I travel, I religiously take my lunch bag with healthy, hydrating food/ snacks (i.e. salads, cucumber, bell peppers). I do not eat red meat often. I avoid processed food. I avoid food with chemicals and antibiotics. I cook practically everything from scratch. As I am typing this post, I am eating an arugula salad with grapefruit, orange, fennel, and avocado topped with mint-parsley-EVOO-lemon dressing. Yum. A few years ago, I decided to start drinking what people call, "That green goop," or "what the heck is that green crap?!" It is a vegetable smoothie made of spinach, chard, kale, broccoli, cucumber, celery, purple cabbage, ginger root, and pure coconut water. I find that it's a great energy booster for the afternoon slump. It keeps my mind alert and fresh. And it's a great source of fiber. It took a while for me to grow used to it. I work out. I swim. I walk. I do yoga. I play racquetball. My weaknesses: chocolate and gourmet food.
Yet I got cancer. What the heck!?! I remember I was so angry when I found out. I did not want to drink the green goop anymore. I wanted to eat junk food. What was the point?! Drinking the green goop and eating healthily is part of who I am. I eventually returned to my habits because they made me feel good. They made my body feel good on the inside. I would never understand why I got cancer. It did not make sense. I tried everything to avoid cancer. Oh well.
Back to the point... the woman last night. She was talking about how she had pre-cancerous cells found in her cervix. Her ob/gyn wanted to do surgery. She refused. She said that she turned things around by eating better and did some chakra cleansing. Then she went on to say that cancer is really nothing. Cancer exists to wake us up to signal to us that we are doing something wrong with our lives. She described that surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation were forms of escape from facing your own negative energies. She went on to talk down to me about chakra as if I was someone who knew nil. I stopped her and said that I knew about chakras. She said, "Oh it's okay if you already had surgery... you still can do something about your issues." Yep, she was a tad too preachy and harsh. I walked outside for a breather. It was just TOO soon after my surgery to hear this. To hear that someone thought I made the wrong choice. Making the choice to do the surgery was one of the most difficult decisions I ever had to make. I still agonize over that decision up to this day. I had the bad kind of endometrial cancer. If I had a better kind of cancer, I might have chosen a different route. I lost my motivation to play the game with the ladies last night. And it was my favorite game. Dang.
I have had some moments where I blurted out things and then immediately wish I could take them back. This kind of experience makes me become more mindful about what I say and do. Of course, I still struggle with this. It's an ongoing process. Being a good person is a work in progress, constantly. I dislike unwelcome and unwanted opinions and advice. You do not know my whole story. You are not walking in my own shoes. Please be mindful before you make claims. Be mindful when you talk about something as sensitive as cancer because you never know the person sitting next to you may just survived a battle with cancer. Be kind. Be open. Be observant. Listen. Do not tell. Do not judge. Do not be condescending.
This experience made me feel like I wanted to step back in my safe little bubble and stay there to avoid any social situations in which I may end up crossing paths with people who made me feel like shit for the decisions I made. It feels safer to stay there than being slapped in the face. Oh yeah... one of those decisions involved saving my own life. Uhm... I thought that was a good thing, no? Hmm. Onward.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Week 6-7 Recovery: Reclaiming My Life
I continue to improve with each passing day. It has been six weeks and five days since my surgery. The past week I have been moving around more. I walk at least 10,000 steps a day now. I no longer needed the step stool to climb into the tall bed by last week. I could accomplish more things in a day. Alas, it has been easy to feel like I am drowning as I try to get back to my life. One day last week, I was feeling lost and overwhelmed as I wasn't certain about where to start. I am slowly figuring out the steps as I reclaim my life. My life was full before I got diagnosed. I was working full time and working on my doctorate degree. I am ready to return to my academic life again. I am ready to get back to my regular workouts.
My six-week post-op appointment with Dr. Jewell was last Tuesday. I thought it would be a short appointment. Nope, we were there 11:30 AM until 6 PM. After examining my incisions and vaginal cuff, she lifted all the restrictions. Bath time! I was able to lift Chocolate again! Oh how I have missed that. Food shopping on my own because I could start pushing carts again. She said to start slowly with workouts and lifting things. I had pain behind another incision that she discovered during the examination. She ordered a CT scan to rule out hernia. It has been ruled out. I suppose the pain will come and go as I continue to heal. I will be back in three months for a follow-up. Dr. Jewell reminded me once again that I will not be completely healed for at least six months. I will continue to feel aches here and there and I will continue to feel tired from time to time. I have to be extra patient with myself as I want to rush into things again. Tonight, I told my friend that it's about going day by day with this recovery process.
On Tuesday, we were in New York City and boarded our train home. Our train was a bit delayed then it was not allowed to leave the station. We had no idea what was going on. We asked other passengers who also had no clue. After waiting for an hour on the motionless train, we learned from friends that a northbound train had derailed in Philadelphia. Amtrak was not sure about what they were going to do then they decided there will be no trains leaving that night. We had several options on the table: go home somehow, stay with a friend, go to a hotel that has an agreement with the cancer center to offer special deals to patients. Mike was stranded in Detroit the night before after missing his connection home due to a delayed flight. I had the airline re-route him to New York to meet me. But he had some misadventure in finding his way to the cancer center. He landed at LaGuardia and then ended up in Bronx. He walked through the Harlem into Manhattan. He made it to the doctor appointment with three minutes to spare. I had no toiletries nor a change of clothes. We both were aching to get home. We decided to take a local train to the Newark International Airport to get a rental car to drive home. We didn't buy the local train tickets until I have booked the rental car. I was confirmed by Budget with a rental car. Then we were on our way. At the Newark Airport, we had to ride three different trains to get to the car rental counter. I was feeling exhausted and relived that we had gotten there. Now it was time to pick up a car and go home. Not quite. The gal at Budget said they had no cars to give. Mike and I were like... "Are we going to get home!?!" I think Mike had it worse because he has been trying to get home for over 30 hours at that point. We discover that Dollar was the only company that had cars available. They quoted us a pricey one-way rental. I told them there was a better deal online. He suggested that we book online but it would mean about fifteen more minutes for the reservation to be processed. Finally we got our TINY car and was on our merry way by 2 AM. Of course, I got lost in the area and finally got on the New Jersey Turnpike. We got my car from the Baltimore-Washington International Airport's Amtrak station and we finally got home at 6:15 AM Wednesday morning. We were messed up the whole day. The rough journey home felt like my wild ride with cancer. When will this stop? There were so much uncertainty until we landed into our bed Wednesday morning. I was there before Mike and was fast asleep.
The derailment in Philadelphia was a surreal reminder of how fragile life is. I was on the same northbound route that morning and later that night, numerous lives were affected. You really don't know what happens tomorrow. Just make the best of today. Tomorrow, your life may change forever. It could be a tragedy like the derailment or it could be a disease like cancer. A woman made a post on Facebook today that implies she wished she had cancer. I think she's aching for attention but... seriously. I do not want any MORE members in this so-called cancer club. It sucks. Stay out! Don't even consider pledging! Run away!
Tuesday night's trip home was tough for me because I had been sleeping a lot for several weeks and was going through 25+ hours without sleep. Since that night, I have not felt like myself. It is my body's way of signalling to me I need to rest more. Dang. I am supposed to do this, do that. Slow down, Naomi. It did not help that I drove six hours today to Rochester to fulfill some existing commitments I had made before the surgery. It is nice to be back in the Land of Lilacs though. There is something healing about being around flowers. The flowers in our front and back yards have been instrumental in my healing process. I relished the crocuses, hyacinths, daffodils, tulips, and azaleas. I took it upon myself to learn the names of the flowers and read about them. I left home when peonies are starting to bloom. I really hope I do not miss much of the process while I'm gone for a few days. Roses will come next, I believe. A friend told me last week that earthing is a healing energy. And by connecting with flowers, I am healing.
I close this post with a nice reading that someone sent me:
My six-week post-op appointment with Dr. Jewell was last Tuesday. I thought it would be a short appointment. Nope, we were there 11:30 AM until 6 PM. After examining my incisions and vaginal cuff, she lifted all the restrictions. Bath time! I was able to lift Chocolate again! Oh how I have missed that. Food shopping on my own because I could start pushing carts again. She said to start slowly with workouts and lifting things. I had pain behind another incision that she discovered during the examination. She ordered a CT scan to rule out hernia. It has been ruled out. I suppose the pain will come and go as I continue to heal. I will be back in three months for a follow-up. Dr. Jewell reminded me once again that I will not be completely healed for at least six months. I will continue to feel aches here and there and I will continue to feel tired from time to time. I have to be extra patient with myself as I want to rush into things again. Tonight, I told my friend that it's about going day by day with this recovery process.
On Tuesday, we were in New York City and boarded our train home. Our train was a bit delayed then it was not allowed to leave the station. We had no idea what was going on. We asked other passengers who also had no clue. After waiting for an hour on the motionless train, we learned from friends that a northbound train had derailed in Philadelphia. Amtrak was not sure about what they were going to do then they decided there will be no trains leaving that night. We had several options on the table: go home somehow, stay with a friend, go to a hotel that has an agreement with the cancer center to offer special deals to patients. Mike was stranded in Detroit the night before after missing his connection home due to a delayed flight. I had the airline re-route him to New York to meet me. But he had some misadventure in finding his way to the cancer center. He landed at LaGuardia and then ended up in Bronx. He walked through the Harlem into Manhattan. He made it to the doctor appointment with three minutes to spare. I had no toiletries nor a change of clothes. We both were aching to get home. We decided to take a local train to the Newark International Airport to get a rental car to drive home. We didn't buy the local train tickets until I have booked the rental car. I was confirmed by Budget with a rental car. Then we were on our way. At the Newark Airport, we had to ride three different trains to get to the car rental counter. I was feeling exhausted and relived that we had gotten there. Now it was time to pick up a car and go home. Not quite. The gal at Budget said they had no cars to give. Mike and I were like... "Are we going to get home!?!" I think Mike had it worse because he has been trying to get home for over 30 hours at that point. We discover that Dollar was the only company that had cars available. They quoted us a pricey one-way rental. I told them there was a better deal online. He suggested that we book online but it would mean about fifteen more minutes for the reservation to be processed. Finally we got our TINY car and was on our merry way by 2 AM. Of course, I got lost in the area and finally got on the New Jersey Turnpike. We got my car from the Baltimore-Washington International Airport's Amtrak station and we finally got home at 6:15 AM Wednesday morning. We were messed up the whole day. The rough journey home felt like my wild ride with cancer. When will this stop? There were so much uncertainty until we landed into our bed Wednesday morning. I was there before Mike and was fast asleep.
The derailment in Philadelphia was a surreal reminder of how fragile life is. I was on the same northbound route that morning and later that night, numerous lives were affected. You really don't know what happens tomorrow. Just make the best of today. Tomorrow, your life may change forever. It could be a tragedy like the derailment or it could be a disease like cancer. A woman made a post on Facebook today that implies she wished she had cancer. I think she's aching for attention but... seriously. I do not want any MORE members in this so-called cancer club. It sucks. Stay out! Don't even consider pledging! Run away!
Tuesday night's trip home was tough for me because I had been sleeping a lot for several weeks and was going through 25+ hours without sleep. Since that night, I have not felt like myself. It is my body's way of signalling to me I need to rest more. Dang. I am supposed to do this, do that. Slow down, Naomi. It did not help that I drove six hours today to Rochester to fulfill some existing commitments I had made before the surgery. It is nice to be back in the Land of Lilacs though. There is something healing about being around flowers. The flowers in our front and back yards have been instrumental in my healing process. I relished the crocuses, hyacinths, daffodils, tulips, and azaleas. I took it upon myself to learn the names of the flowers and read about them. I left home when peonies are starting to bloom. I really hope I do not miss much of the process while I'm gone for a few days. Roses will come next, I believe. A friend told me last week that earthing is a healing energy. And by connecting with flowers, I am healing.
I close this post with a nice reading that someone sent me:
A small wave for your form
a small wave for your voice
a small wave for your speech
a small wave for your means
a small wave for your generosity
a small wave for your appetite
a small wave for your wealth
a small wave for your life.
a small wave for your health
Nine waves of grace upon you
waves of the Giver of Health
-Mhairi nic Neill
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Week 5 Recovery: Springing Forward
Spring is finally here! I am enjoying the spring flowers that have been appearing in the
backyard and the neighborhood. I started walking much more. Chocolate,
who has been patient, is really grateful for the longer walks with me again. He is
probably also grateful that the snow is actually gone for a good while.
It was validating to hear from some girlfriends who came over last Sunday recognize the progress I
have made in my recovery. They saw me about two weeks post-op and
again three weeks later. They said I look much more normal now.
Week 5 was the first week I felt more like myself. My mind was feeling more clear. I was more alert and productive. Yes, I am recovering from a major surgery. People wondered whether to call it a major surgery. A hysterectomy is a major surgery as it involves the removal of a major organ from the body. It takes time to heal.
I am able to do more things. I am cooking daily again. Driving is becoming easier. I gave interpreting another try and enjoyed it so much. I re-visited my "nerd-dom" by working a bit on a research paper. It was so stimulating. There continue to be restrictions: I cannot lift anything over 10 pounds. I ache to lift Chocolate from the ground to hug him. I cannot push or pull anything (i.e. vacuum, shopping cart). I cannot take baths nor swim. I cannot do any workouts except for walking. I crave for my full independence, which includes going shopping on my own. I want my active lifestyle back. Patience...
Last Monday, a shopping cart was accidentally pushed into my abdomen. That really hurt and made me really dizzy afterwards. I was sore the whole day. I was relieved that I was feeling okay the next day.
There has been so much reflection on my part as well. It was like I had just gotten off the wild roller coaster ride that I did not want to be on. I am slowly reminiscing that ride. It is surreal to be exposed to different possibilities when it comes to cancer. I know of a woman who got her esophageal cancer diagnosis a week after mine and she died two months ago. I know of a woman who got her breast cancer diagnosis two weeks after mine and is about to die any day now. Upon hearing those stories, I struggle with whether it is okay to feel blessed I am not in that position. I do but my heart aches for those women and their loved ones.
My friend gave me a book to read to help me get through this cancer journey, 50 Days of Hope (Eib, 2012). Truthfully I was not able to open it until this past week. My life felt too overwhelming to read something like this until now. The author spoke of how she does not exactly know how other cancer patients feel but she does understand to a degree.
Friend: "I heard this ugly rumor about you."
Me: "What's that?"
Friend: "That you have cancer."
Me: "Yep, true."
Naomi and cancer in a sentence together. Weird and sucky. It's the truth. I became part of the 'ugly rumor mill.' It's like I have earned the scarlet letter marking. At the same time, I am conflicted. I am cancer-free after two different types of treatments: hormone therapy and surgery. I thought that in order to be part of the 'cancer club', I had to experience radiation and/or chemotherapy. Do I call myself a cancer survivor? Or do I not? My ride with cancer was for a short time and I'm cancer-free. I do understand what it feels like to wonder and wait with so many questions and being in such a horrible fearful state. And being forced to make a decision: become pregnant or live. Yet, I am stuck with oncology visits for life because there's always the risk of the cancer coming back to haunt me. Well, I hope not.
The author also said one other thing that resonated with me. She spoke of hoping that the cancer diagnosis was made in error. I spent countless moments wondering, and hoping "What if they really are wrong? I really don't have cancer. It was something else." Once the reality sunk in, I immediately wanted to find a woman who was in the exactly same situation was I was in. The author did just that and could not find such a person. She met other cancer patients and survivors. I never found the woman who was dealing with the same thing I was. However, I met cancer patients and survivors who have been instrumental in my process. It was them that helped give me the courage to move forward.
Week 5 was the first week I felt more like myself. My mind was feeling more clear. I was more alert and productive. Yes, I am recovering from a major surgery. People wondered whether to call it a major surgery. A hysterectomy is a major surgery as it involves the removal of a major organ from the body. It takes time to heal.
I am able to do more things. I am cooking daily again. Driving is becoming easier. I gave interpreting another try and enjoyed it so much. I re-visited my "nerd-dom" by working a bit on a research paper. It was so stimulating. There continue to be restrictions: I cannot lift anything over 10 pounds. I ache to lift Chocolate from the ground to hug him. I cannot push or pull anything (i.e. vacuum, shopping cart). I cannot take baths nor swim. I cannot do any workouts except for walking. I crave for my full independence, which includes going shopping on my own. I want my active lifestyle back. Patience...
Last Monday, a shopping cart was accidentally pushed into my abdomen. That really hurt and made me really dizzy afterwards. I was sore the whole day. I was relieved that I was feeling okay the next day.
There has been so much reflection on my part as well. It was like I had just gotten off the wild roller coaster ride that I did not want to be on. I am slowly reminiscing that ride. It is surreal to be exposed to different possibilities when it comes to cancer. I know of a woman who got her esophageal cancer diagnosis a week after mine and she died two months ago. I know of a woman who got her breast cancer diagnosis two weeks after mine and is about to die any day now. Upon hearing those stories, I struggle with whether it is okay to feel blessed I am not in that position. I do but my heart aches for those women and their loved ones.
My friend gave me a book to read to help me get through this cancer journey, 50 Days of Hope (Eib, 2012). Truthfully I was not able to open it until this past week. My life felt too overwhelming to read something like this until now. The author spoke of how she does not exactly know how other cancer patients feel but she does understand to a degree.
"But I do know what it feels like:This part of the reading struck a chord with me. The second item reminds me of a text message I got from a friend back in January. The conversation went like this:
To hear my name and 'cancer' in a sentence together.
To wait agonizingly long for test results.
To struggle over treatment decisions." (pg. xiv)
Friend: "I heard this ugly rumor about you."
Me: "What's that?"
Friend: "That you have cancer."
Me: "Yep, true."
Naomi and cancer in a sentence together. Weird and sucky. It's the truth. I became part of the 'ugly rumor mill.' It's like I have earned the scarlet letter marking. At the same time, I am conflicted. I am cancer-free after two different types of treatments: hormone therapy and surgery. I thought that in order to be part of the 'cancer club', I had to experience radiation and/or chemotherapy. Do I call myself a cancer survivor? Or do I not? My ride with cancer was for a short time and I'm cancer-free. I do understand what it feels like to wonder and wait with so many questions and being in such a horrible fearful state. And being forced to make a decision: become pregnant or live. Yet, I am stuck with oncology visits for life because there's always the risk of the cancer coming back to haunt me. Well, I hope not.
The author also said one other thing that resonated with me. She spoke of hoping that the cancer diagnosis was made in error. I spent countless moments wondering, and hoping "What if they really are wrong? I really don't have cancer. It was something else." Once the reality sunk in, I immediately wanted to find a woman who was in the exactly same situation was I was in. The author did just that and could not find such a person. She met other cancer patients and survivors. I never found the woman who was dealing with the same thing I was. However, I met cancer patients and survivors who have been instrumental in my process. It was them that helped give me the courage to move forward.
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