Cancer Patient – Frantic Shanti

Breast Cancer: Finding Gratitude as a Cancer Patient

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I’m not going to lie, gratitude can be difficult to navigate as a cancer patient.

When you’re mourning your diagnosis and trying to hold yourself together from the shock, the last thing you want is for some sunny person to tell you to think about everything you’re grateful for.

At such a time, it can be very difficult to think of anything. I, personally, felt a lot of anger, bitterness and even betrayal after I was told I had breast cancer. It wasn’t a great set of feelings to sink into, but that was my reality.

While I tried doing gratitude practices, in the beginning the process was miserable and felt “fake”. The whole notion of being grateful struck me as forced and required me to think about things I didn’t want to focus on.

Tough to be grateful? Make a list of what doesn’t suck.
(Photo by Hannah Olinger on Unsplash)

However, what helped me was making a list. It started out as a list of things about which I could say, “well, at least this didn’t happen” and slowly shifted to “well, this thing made my life easier”. It enabled me to find positives that I had otherwise overlooked.

I wasn’t grateful for getting cancer. But having bosses whose wives had survived breast cancer made it easier for them to understand what I was going through…and also to offer some useful advice (as did their wives).

I didn’t have the luxury of not working throughout treatment, but I was glad that a series of big projects had ended the previous year, so I didn’t have a huge workload waiting for me at the office. And while I really wished I could have had a full-time income, my part-time position meant that I had an easier time shifting my schedule to accommodate appointments and days off following infusions.

Additionally, it was fortunate that the region in which I live had a number of highly lauded cancer centers. And my cancer center offered free counseling by excellent therapists specifically trained to work with cancer patients.

It was also a plus that the summer during which I had my chemo infusions ended up being mild—luckily, since we didn’t have air conditioning—and my fear of enduring nausea through hot summer days never became a reality.

My list got longer and longer.

Opening the door to gratitude soothes the overwrought mind.
(Photo by Pedro Ramos on Unsplash)

So little by little, I started to pick through all the things that ended up better than they could have been. I didn’t call it “gratitude” at first because I was still bitter and refused to accept that there was anything to be grateful for. But the more things that came up that made me realize how much better the situation had turned out…the easier it was to finally come around to the idea that, even in the midst of the crappiest-thing-that-could-happen, there truly were things that I could l squeeze out a bit of gratitude for.

It took time. But when I loosened my grip on bitterness, I allowed in a swell of gratefulness, so much so that it was almost overwhelming how, if I had to get cancer, if it truly had to happen, there were so many things that had gone right. I started feeling so much better emotionally.

So my advice to anyone who wants to try out that “gratitude stuff” to see why it’s so great for your mental health: be gentle, start slowly and don’t tell anyone you’re doing it. This is a private practice for you. When you finally allow yourself to zero in on those little things that aren’t so bad or are kind of fortuitous given the situation, you may find that they buoy your spirits.

That’s all it takes. Not need to rush. Let the appreciation come to you.

Patient vs. Survivor: The Impact of a Label

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The first devastating realization I had following my breast cancer diagnosis was that I was now a cancer patient. In my mind I immediately went from “happy-go-lucky, fitter-than-average” to “sick beyond belief”.

Except that nothing physical had changed. But my mindset had. And when I found out that my triple-positive tumor was going to require chemo, I knew that everyone else was going to be aware of my hairless, frail status.

Cancer. Patient. I imagined myself pathetic and scrawny, walking around hunched over in a hospital gown with light shining off my bald scalp. Sounds dramatic, huh?

How do your labels affect you?
(Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash)

Recently, however, I learned that there’s been a change in the language surrounding those individuals who have been diagnosed, are undergoing treatment for or have finished cancer treatment. The word “patient” as it relates to someone’s status has been supplanted by “survivor” much earlier in their cancer experience.

This is curious to me because I went through a mini identity crisis after I was done with chemo and radiation–I thought that only then could I start calling myself a (hopeful) cancer survivor. But I was a bit anxious about doing so, because I didn’t know whether I truly deserved that title. I thought that I needed to have some special designation before I qualified as a survivor.

These days, the survivor label is given when you receive a diagnosis. The idea is that while initially we didn’t know your status, now that we’ve confirmed your tumor, you are going through the experience of surviving the disease. As stated on the Cancer.net site, “When people talk about ‘survivorship,’ they are usually referring to navigating their life experiences and challenges resulting from their cancer diagnosis.” Read more about how ‘survivor’ is used here.

This sounds a lot better to me than using the term “patient”. By referring to myself as a patient when I didn’t have any reason to–meaning no physical symptoms–I was imagining myself sicker than I really was, which increased my anxiety levels. That made my entire experience worse and it didn’t have to. I did that to myself (‘cept that I was only using the common labels of the time).

How are you choosing to define yourself?
(Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash)

Instead of putting my energies into dealing with the side effects of treatment, I went down a dark hole.

Language matters! While there’s no doubt that cancer brings on stress and anxiety, terminology can make a difference in your cancer experience and that can either help or hinder you in the process.

So I urge you to consider the words you use to refer to yourself and pay extra attention to how that feels to you. You could be making yourself miserable without even realizing that you have some control over this.

Why I Get Irritated Searching for Yoga Photos

^{(Title image: Photo by Katie Bush on Unsplash)}

This is getting annoying.

I’ve been posting a lot about yoga, specifically about yoga for cancer populations.

Yoga programming for such populations is *not* your garden variety beginner/intermediate yoga. With the possible exception of well-practiced, life-long yogis who experience a cancer diagnosis, most of the people taking these yoga classes will have limitations to their movement and will need thoughtfully-designed sequences that offer appropriate modifications.

In a number of cases, these individuals may be older (for example, the average age at diagnosis for a woman in the US with breast cancer is 62). Many of them will not have an established yoga practice but may be attracted to yoga due to its reputation as being a mind-body activity: people with cancer not only have to deal with the disease and physical side effects of treatments, but also the emotional repercussions of being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. Yoga can help.

So why am I irritated? Because the photo databank I use for my blog is replete with photographs of bodies in yoga poses. However, the poses shown are nothing that I would ever consider twisting a cancer patient into.

Make no mistake: the photographs are lovely, the yogis are impressively advanced, but what kind of a message does seeing mainly *these* kinds of yoga photos send to those cancer patients considering trying out yoga?
(Photo by Oksana Taran on Unsplash)

The yogis shown almost without exception are young and flexible. And when I’ve searched for “senior yoga” etc. to increase the diversity of the images…sure, I can find some but they’re locked behind a paywall (mine is a free blog without a budget for such niceities). Apparently, an older individual doing yoga is considered “exotic”.

This type of exclusivity feeds the narrative that yoga is for youthful, injury-free people who have the funds to attend studio classes. Someone who might be older, recovering from surgery, limited in range of motion and conscious about their budget due to treatment costs…well, I wouldn’t be surprised if they felt that yoga wasn’t welcoming of them and their needs.

This is, of course, so ironic, because of all the different exercise modalities, yoga is one of the most perfect for cancer patients. These are the people who need yoga the most!

Yes, I’ve written (griped?) about this topic before. Yes, we’re becoming more accepting of diverse bodies in diverse situations. But good luck trying to illustrate a blog post on yoga for cancer patients with actual photos of cancer patients doing yoga!

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I’m not expecting to easily find every type of person depicted doing yoga in a given (free) photobank. But in the US we have a problem with making yoga accessible, and the more images that we run of only a certain kind of human doing yoga, the more we inadvertently push the idea that yoga is only for that certain kind of human.

White Paper: “Yoga Interventions for Cancer Patients and Survivors”

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I’ve been writing a lot lately about using yoga to mitigate cancer therapy-related side effects.

In this post, I want to bring your attention to the white paper entitled, “Yoga Interventions for Cancer Patients and Survivors” [Important: this links to the download page on the yoga4cancer website, *not* directly to the pdf itself]. It’s an evidence-based review of research regarding the benefits of a yoga practice in coping with negative side effects that afflict cancer patients and survivors, followed by recommendations for teaching yoga to this population.

This 24-page document (quoted directly from the paper’s abstract) “(1) provides a summary of research on the benefits of yoga for cancer patients and survivors, (2) highlights the most beneficial components of yoga for cancer survivors, (3) identifies barriers and solutions to the creation of accessible, evidence-based yoga programming, and (4) offers guidelines for developing yoga programs that best meet the unique needs of cancer patients and survivors.” [Again, this links to the download page.]

The white paper is written in non-technical language, distilling the research down into a form that doesn’t require a scientific background to understand. Additionally, editions are available in Spanish and Japanese, both available on the download page beneath the English version.

If you’d rather not download, you can read the English version below (or click the “download” button underneath the paper for a pdf):

yoga-interventions-for-cancer-patients-and-survivors_white-paper Download

yoga4cancer: Bringing the Benefits of Yoga to Cancer Patients and Survivors [VIDEOS]

(Title image: Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash)

In February 2022, I started a yoga teacher training program with a singular goal: to eventually teach yoga to cancer patients and survivors.

With its mix of physical postures (asanas), breathwork (pranayama) and meditation, yoga is ideal for someone going through the traumatic experience that cancer can be. Yoga can provide enough physical exertion to count as moderate exercise and the ability to help the practioner calm their mind, things that are so important for improving cancer treatment outcomes. However, classes must be designed carefully and taught thoughtfully.

Yoga4Cancer Q&A for Cancer Patients and Survivors (Yoga Alliance on YouTube)

Keep in mind, yoga teachers were yoga practitioners first. Many of them got really good at the practice, developed great flexibility and balance and gained respect for the tradition of yoga. But that doesn’t automatically make them appropriate yoga teachers for cancer patients, who need an instructor that understands the nuances of what cancer is and how treatment affects us.

A yoga teacher and breast cancer survivor by the name of Tari Prinster addressed that need by creating yoga4cancer (y4c), “an evidence-informed Oncology Yoga method tailored to address the specific physical and emotional needs left by the cancer and cancer treatments. The approach matches breath and movement to stimulate the immune system, improve flexibility & strength, reduce anxiety and boost overall well-being” (from the y4c website).

I’m planning to begin the y4c advanced 75-hour certification program (see informational video here) either later this year or early next. I’ve been so impressed by y4c’s emphasis on understanding the unique situation that cancer patients and survivors are in–it’s not just your garden variety beginner yoga class with “also for cancer patients” dressing. The program is well-thought out and comprehensive, and I’m so excited to embark on this next leg of moving closer to my teaching goal.

In the meantime, here is a selection of videos created by Tari and her instructors that are specifically geared for the mental and physical needs of cancer patients and survivors:

Yoga4Cancer Oncology Yoga for Cancer Related Fatigue (Yoga Alliance on YouTube)

Yoga4Cancer Yoga for Bone Loss (Yoga Alliance on YouTube)

Yoga4Cancer Yoga for Range of Motion (Yoga Alliance on YouTube)

Yoga4Cancer.com Yoga for Anxiety (Yoga Alliance on YouTube

yoga4cancer.com Yoga for Lymphedema (Yoga Alliance on YouTube)

yoga4cancer.com Yoga for Constipation (Yoga Alliance on YouTube)

Enjoy!

Again, the Mammogram

It feels like it wasn’t all that long ago that I had my five-year 3-D mammogram…and here I am with my six-year scan.

I’m writing this prior to the scan and will follow up with the results at the end of this post, but I find it useful to write while I am still experiencing the little uncertainties that come with scans. Like a Schroedinger’s-esque situation, I am both a cancer survivor and a cancer patient right now, since no matter how small a chance that another tumor will be found in my breast, survivor and patient are my only two possible modes of existence.

For this short period of time, I’m both survivor and patient.

For my own sake, I try to release all expectations at this time. I don’t want to relax and tell myself that I’m sure that the scan will be clear, because the drop down from that back into “cancer patient” state would be too fast and steep, so I breath deeply and anticipate nothing. But that’s hard to maintain.

At the same time, just a few weeks after seeing my oncologist who skillfully performed a clinical breast exam and found nothing, it’s very unlikely that a mammogram would bring up anything life-changing for me at this time. In fact, if anything were found, it would be a tumor in its nascent stages that would be much easier to treat than the one I had in 2017. Or so I tell myself.

To be frank, it’s not locating another tumor in the breast that constitutes the scariest scary outcome. No, it’s the not finding a tumor in some other part of the body — perhaps a lone sleeper cell that evaded chemotherapy’s effects and circulated through my body before grabbing onto a vital organ and silently beginning to grow.

That’s the real bad news…but it would not be the news I’d get today.

This brings me back to that situation that all cancer survivors face: accepting that there are no guarantees.

For the next hours before my mammogram I will focus on work, think of nothing to do with cancer and take deep conscious breaths. As I sit in the waiting room I will gently distract myself, submit to the squishing of the scan and hang in the stillness of the present moment until I get my response…and hopefully go on for another year. Maybe.

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So, I’m back now with the outcome that I was both hoping for and (to be honest) expected: All clear for one more year!

And even though I always play it cool before and during the scan, the difference in my state is really noticible after I get the thumbs-up sign. Those minutes of sitting and waiting for my results [note: as a cancer survivor, I get my answer on the spot, which I really appreciate] are a little uncomfortable — I float, trying to focus on my breathing. But to this day, even when I’m “not expecting bad news”, I cannot shake that tickle of unease.

And that’s just another part of being comfortable with being uncomfortable. Still working on it…