Tag: Cancer Anniversary

8 Year Cancer-versary and Everything Hurts

(Title image: Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash)

This past weekend marked eight years since my breast cancer diagnosis and I recently had another oncologist appointment.

Over the years my appointments have become lighthearted. This one was not so much.

While I was concerned about the migraine auras that I’d been experiencing in the fall of last year, my oncologist had called me in November 2024 with the results of my bone density scan: I’d lost more bone and was deeper in osteopenia.

To be fair, I don’t even know how much more. It had been strange to find myself labeled with osteopenia when I had my first bone density scan over five years ago. Neither my oncologist nor I could understand it. I live a very active life with frequent workouts, including a lot of strength training. By all accounts I should have strong bones. At the time, we figured it was something to do with algorithms applied to the bone density data and my bones were actually in better shape.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!
(Photo by julien Tromeur on Unsplash)

This time around, it was worse. Since the first measurement, I’d had two years of tamoxifen and one of aromatase inhibitors. That didn’t help. But all the exercise? Did it not matter? Apparently not enough.

That was frustrating on its own. But to add to that frustration, I’ve been hit with injuries. My left shoulder, my left hip and most recently my lower back.

Each one of these has taken a toll on my exercise schedule and I will likely have to seek out physical therapy for at least the shoulder. At least. The hip I have been able to manage to a certain extent. Then I tweaked my lower back rowing about two weeks ago…I kept working out, more gingerly for sure…until I managed to re-tweak my back because apparently I am incapable of leaving things well enough alone.

On the bright side, the pain in my back made me completely forget the pain in my hip. Which is not to say that there is no pain, just that it pales in comparison to back spasms.

My oncologist offered to order a spinal scan for me. I graciously declined—I’m pretty darn sure it’s just my back muscles—but his concern is valid. If I’m lifting weights with increasingly porous bones, he’s worried about spinal compression fractures.

I guess he won’t have to worry about it now. I’ve been smacked in the face with a healthy dose of humility. No, I had no intention of pulling back on my workouts, but doing so is unavoidable. The amount of weight I can lift without injury has steadily decreased (injury by injury) and with this last helping of pain, I have to face reality. I need to completely rehaul my workouts along with my expectations.

Just sittin’ and chillin’ and dreamin’ of strong bones.
(Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash)

Perhaps most importantly, I need to not view this as a failure on my part. Because while I knew that eventually that day would come, I was not prepared to actually accept that it was here. I was still trying to “work my way back up” to where I was before, even when I knew that it was unrealistic.

After all, I remind myself, the fact that I need to adopt a slightly gentler approach to my workouts is a sign of success: the reason I need to be more careful now is because I have survived this long past my diagnosis. That’s not a punishment or a capitulation. It is, in fact, a blessing and a luxury that many cancer patients don’t have.

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What now? I am resistant to bone-building bisphosphonates at this time, for a variety of reasons (hello, side effects). I want to see if I can stop/slow the bone loss on my own. I have the exercise part down, no problem. But to be completely honest, my dietary intake of calcium was very low. I had every intention of supplementing with calcium after my first bone density scan, but got spooked by the potential for heart issues.

Since then, I’ve learned about the importance of Vitamin K2 and the Japanese fermented bean natto, which has loads of it and makes sure calcium gets to the bones instead of the heart. I’ve re-started the calcium supplements with a daily serving of the fermented stuff. You could say, I’ve become an aficio-natto.

And now that I am forced to back off the intense exercise, I have the opportunity to focus on mobility work, stretching and rehabilitation as I discover what body parts are going to need the attention of a physical therapist. We’ll see how this new approach to fitness works.

“Ask Me Anything”: Streaming on Twitch

(Title image: Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash)

Well, I tried a thing…

In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I decided to try an “Ask Me Anything” stream on a streaming platform called Twitch.

Twitch is primarily a game streaming platform although there are also art streams, animal streams, science streams and a variety of other worthwhile (and some not-so-worthwhile) streams.

I’ve streamed video games there before—because after cancer, playing horror games in virtual reality is not as scary—so I was familiar with the workings. Additionally, with progressively more younger women getting diagnosed with breast cancer, I felt that it was appropriate to reach out to a younger community.

I wanted to give people a chance to ask questions about the breast cancer experience that they might not feel comfortable asking someone they know who has the disease. This was based on my own experience decades ago; a fellow student was diagnosed, and suddenly I wasn’t sure how to talk to her. I didn’t want to say the “wrong” thing, afraid that I might upset her or otherwise “remind” her about her cancer, as if she had forgotten.

All this was, of course, ridiculous, because she herself was very open about the disease and talked about it to us freely. She’d let us know how it was going, sometimes came to class wearing only a hat on her bald head, never showing any indication that speaking about cancer made her uncomfortable.

The issue wasn’t my friend, it was me, and I honestly didn’t give her as much support as I could have. I probably looked like I was pulling away but the reality was that I just didn’t know how to speak to her for fear of hurting her.

I’m here to answer all those questions that people don’t feel comfortable asking…but want to know the answer to.
(Photo by 愚木混株 cdd20 on Unsplash)

There were questions that I could have engaged her with like, “how sick do you get from chemotherapy”, “what does your treatment plan look like”, “what type of breast cancer do you have”, “what are you looking forward to most when you’re done?”

Additionally, I wondered about things like, “what is the survival rate for your cancer”, that I would have never asked her for fear of really being inappropriate. But I was still curious (keep in mind, this was prior to widespread usage of the World Wide Web/Internet, so I couldn’t google the info).

All of those questions are the ones that I wanted to be available to answer on my stream. If you’ve been reading my blog posts, you probably know a lot about my own situation. I’m not shy about sharing.

But a person with a co-worker who was recently diagnosed, like my younger self, might not want to ask them.

So, I gave the Q&A session a try…to a whopping zero viewers. And that was okay because I wasn’t sure how it would go. I talked almost non-stop about what my breast cancer experience was like. It was cathartic to be sure and I was surprised that I was able to speak for as long as I did. Eventually, my throat started to hurt (water? I’m supposed to drink water?) and I called it a day.

It was also a touch out of my comfort zone. I feel like I need to do something useful with my life and I’m running out of time. This stream is one way to shake myself up at the age of 58 and get used to taking risks again. Ouch.

Just for kicks, I’ll be posting the unedited video that I created from the Q&A session although I admit, it took a bit for me to get going so it’s very stream-of-consciousness. I’m still in the process of uploading it, but will post it once that’s all done.

I’m tentatively planning to do this again next Saturday morning at ~9am PDT, assuming my voice recovers by then. If you’re interested it taking a look, you will be able to access the stream here: https://www.twitch.tv/franticshanti.

Unexpected News at my 7-Year Oncology Appointment

(Title image: Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash)

A few days ago I had my seven-year post-diagnosis appointment with my oncologist. Seven whole years. And it was a weird conversation.

He said something that set me aback. He told me that he didn’t think I should worry about the cancer coming back. Essentially, I was cured (note: MY words, not his, but that’s the idea). [See bottom of post for disclaimer!]

He’s alluded to this before during previous appointments. But this time around felt different.

I’ve officially hit SEVEN!
(Photo by Himiway Bikes on Unsplash)

I returned home a bit confused. See, for the last seven years, I’ve been a full-on cancer survivor. Still holding on to the fear that at any moment, I would get those terrifying scan results back and–WHAM–I’m a cancer patient once more, back on that sickening rollercoaster ride through treatment.

As difficult as it was to accept that–even trying my best to live a healthy life–I had somehow been smacked down by cancer…now, I had a new problem. Reentering life as maybe not-so-much a cancer survivor anymore, but rather just a healthy, active postmenopausal woman with years ahead of her.

And that is a weird feeling.

For the first five years after my diagnosis, I was frustrated, even angry. Cancer was a devastating detour at a time when I was already struggling to find my way back into a career. Well, forget that. Derailed. I was bitter.

Eventually, I realized that while life sucked, it sucked for a lot of people and I wasn’t special in that regard. That was an important turning point in how I perceived my own role in my cancer story–it was humbling but also gratifying.

Humbling because my experience could have been so much worse. There were people whose treatment did not end well. I was incredibly fortunate, even when it felt like I’d been thrown in a sack and beaten with sticks. At least, I made it out.

Gratifying because early on I held myself responsible for getting cancer, even though I had literally done everything protective (lots of exercise, high fitness, plant-based diet, breastfeeding, not smoking, not drinking) that I could think of. I was desperate with frustration and helplessness about this. Letting go of that guilt was healing.

Feels like I’ve got the green light to hurry up and get on with the rest of my life now.
(Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash)

So the last two years have been more about understanding my perspective and then stepping out of it to view things more objectively. Mindfulness and meditation helped with that, which is why I often write about them here. But I hadn’t been ready to get out of the breakdown lane and drive myself back into mainstream life, in part fearful of the pain of having the expectation of cancer-free “normality” smashed to smithereens by a potential diagnosis.

Gradually, that’s changed. But this last appointment felt like getting shoved out the door by someone yelling, “YOU’RE OKAY, DAMMIT!” Here I am, standing and blinking in the sunlight, trying to make sense of exactly what that means for me now. Wow, after seven years, I can actually stop being afraid.

I don’t know if I even remember what that feels like.

Yes, I’m still going to refer to myself as a survivor, because it’s a part of my natural history. I’m never going to forget that experience and I continue to be driven by a need to support others going through this disease.

And if it does return? Well, at least I will have had a brief glimpse of life completely outside the notion of cancer.

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Of course, because we’re talking about cancer, the statements above call for level-headness in the midst of levity. While my oncologist feels that the chances of the same cancer coming back are low, the possibility for a brand spankin’ new tumor, breast or otherwise, never goes away. It happened once, it can happen again. But that’s life. I’ll take it.