Cancer – Page 6 – Frantic Shanti

Things I Wish I’d Known About Breast Cancer, Part 2

This post continues what I started in the last post…a few things about breast cancer that I wasn’t aware of at the time of my diagnosis. Knowing the following would have made things a little less stressful:

1. Lumpectomy is a relatively uncomplicated surgery. I wish someone had explained this to me because I was a total wreck going into surgery (which happened to be the only surgery that I had ever had up to that point, making everything 10 times worse). Although I had decided against a full mastectomy, I was still so afraid of what a lumpectomy would entail, what I’d look like and how long it would take me to recover from losing a chunk of flesh.

The reality was…I was back at work the next week. No drainage tubes, no need for heavy analgesics — just a couple of ibuprofin the night after surgery because skipping coffee that morning resulted in a headache, but that was it. It was even hard to tell that I’d had my lump excised. Wish I could go back to my earlier self and tell her not to worry.

Stethoscopes are emotionless. Oncologists can seem to be too, but that’s by design.

2. Doctors are not in a hurry to give you good news. I think there’s a general feeling among medical professionals that there’s so much that can go poorly during cancer treatment that your doc isn’t going to go out of their way to pump you full of optimism. They probably practice keeping an emotionless face as they deliver all sorts of news, both good and bad. As a patient, however, I watched every flicker on my oncologist’s face for an indication of how things were “really” going. I feared that there was something he wasn’t telling me.

It wasn’t until perhaps a year or so later when I was expressing my fears to him about possible abnormalities inside my body that he uttered the phrase, “but you have your health”…and I was taken aback because I had never heard him sound so positive. It was almost a shock to hear him confirm that I was actually considered healthy.

3. Don’t expect things to be the same as before. Accepting that part of your life has changed will make it much easier to go on. This took me a while to appreciate because I was expecting to get back to doing and feeling everything the same as before my diagnosis.

But chemo (and eventually, age) pushed me through menopause, and I had to come to grips with, say, a high-intensity interval workout requiring more recovery time and that I had trouble remembering people’s names. Once I got to that point of acceptance, life after cancer treatment became easier, although it did take a number of years to get there.

4. Hair takes a while to grow back in. The reason I created posts with photographs that illustrated the cancer journey that my hair went through (here and here) was because I could not find good photos on the internet documenting the process. I did see images of a woman a few weeks after stopping chemo with little stubs already visible, but that was not my experience and it made my anxiety over my slow regrowth even worse.

Walking around with no hair was getting old and I was getting more desperate by the day to see evidence of sprouts!

If you’ve ever googled your chemo drug name + “hair loss”, you understand the fear: the first search result is usually a law office gathering info on behalf of cancer patients whose hair never grew back!

It took a number of months before my folicles woke up and actually started growing. I remember the moment that I finally saw growth on the front of my head and it was as if the heavens had opened up and divine light poured out onto me. Seriously. I would have avoided a lot of stress if someone had just told me that it’s gonna be a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok, ok, to be fair, my oncologist did urge patience with the regrowth but I was a jumbled mess of nerves and was feeling overwhelmed. All the internet propaganda about both (1) other women having much faster regrowth, or (2) other women never getting their hair back terrified me. Note to self: when feeling desperate, stay off the internet!

Things I Wish I’d Known About Breast Cancer, Part 1

Cancer, perhaps more than any other disease, has a formidable reputation that precedes it. Because of this, cancer “lore” can affect your expectations of treatment effects and anticipated prognosis if you are unfortunate enough to receive a diagnosis.

There were a number of things that I didn’t realize about breast cancer that might have made my experience, if not better, at least slightly less harrowing. Here are a few of them, in no particular order:

1. Breast cancer research remains more highly funded than that any other cancer (source: 2019 Northwestern University estimate) and is therefore the best-studied type of cancer. As a result the treatment plan is solid. While this does depend somewhat on the type of breast cancer you have (Triple-Negative, Triple-Positive, Hormone Receptor-Positive, Inflammatory, etc.), the fact remains that there is great interest in “saving the boobies”.

We are living in an era where research in breast cancer is churning out valuable findings at a break-neck pace.

Your treatment plan has likely been well-tested with ample positive outcomes. Combine this with the tendency for this cancer to be diagnosed at earlier stages due to the relative ease in finding a tumor (I mean, you can feel the lump even if it’s not very big), survival rates tend to be very good. Understandably, that might not be very comforting at the time that you’re hit with the news that you have breast cancer, but it is a blessing that you’ll appreciate later.

2. Getting breast cancer is not your fault. I struggled with this one for a loooong time. If you’ve read some of my earliest posts, you know that I not only had a hard time getting my head around my diagnosis, but also a lot of anger about everything I did that was considered “protective” that seemed not to make any difference.

The reality is, as much as we do know about cancer, there’s still a lot we don’t, which means you can be doing everything right — even “perfectly” — and still be diagnosed with breast cancer.

The message I got from cancer-prevention campaigns was that there was so much you could do to avoid the disease. I checked off all those boxes and thought that I was at very low risk. I was “the fit one”, the vegetarian, a dutiful breast-feeding mom allowing myself no indulgences — the last person you’d imagine this happening to, but it did.

I felt ashamed about the diagnosis, even feared that I would be accused of lying about my healthy habits. I was terrified that my healthy lifestyle had somehow backfired. While this sounds ridiculous now, feeling so out-of-control about my own health was demoralizing and depressing.

3. A healthy lifestyle goes a long way in making recovery easier. While I felt dejected about not being able to avoid breast cancer, my exercise and dietary habits helped me recover from treatment side effects faster and not gain weight afterwards. And as I learned later, by maintaining an active lifestyle, I was significantly decreasing my chances of cancer recurrence. I wrote about those findings in this post.

So all my efforts were not for naught. Word to the wise: if you don’t exercise regularly, start now. If you do exercise, keep going!

4. There is light in dark places. I must stress that cancer isn’t some “great” thing that happens to you and it carries with it big side effects and an ever-present risk of death. I lost two friends to breast cancer who were both diagnosed about the time that I was and they were far too young to die.

But given that I had to go through this, I had the option of “sink or swim” when it came to how I would view my experience. Eventually I found the light in the darkness of the cancer tunnel, but it did take a number of years and many ups-and-downs before I was able to appreciate the lessons that the disease taught me: being able to accept and live with uncertainty, identifying a clear purpose in my life, finding gratitude in small things, even coming to grips with my own mortality. These lessons were difficult but also valuable, and I admit that I wouldn’t have learned them if I had not gotten cancer.

Perhaps some of the most important of these were identifying that I had suffered from anxiety for a good part of my life and understanding how it had shaped my decisions. Yes, it took cancer for me to realize all that! This led to incorporating mindfulness and meditation into my daily routine.

And that is a very positive thing indeed.

Such a Fragile Life

I’m not going to post the post I’d written for today.

Something else came up and it really made me think about how we are teetering on a slim ledge between “everything’s ok” and “the end is near”.

Last Wednesday, I cut the inside of the roof of my mouth in the soft palate. Or maybe it was a burn? I didn’t pay much attention to it because this happens from time to time, it’s not that big a deal and it seems to heal quickly.

Except this time it didn’t. Granted, I ignored it a tad too much and wasn’t as careful as I should have been about what I was eating. I felt loose skin rub off around that area.

In a second, everything can change. [Note: this is not my car.]

It started hurting more and eating became more painful. At night, my mouth dries out even when I’m sleeping with closed lips. My tongue feels like sandpaper against my palate and because of where the wound was, my tongue was irritating it.

Friday, I realized that if I spoke a lot without a break, my tongue would abrade that sore area even more. Saturday, I told myself that I should be doing warm salt water rinses, but kept forgetting to do so.

Sunday, my head hurt upon waking although the area felt kind of better? But when I tried eating and drinking as normal (albeit avoiding that side of the mouth), the pain seemed worse.

Or maybe it was my perception of that pain? For me, it’s so hard to tell. I vacillate between ignoring a dangerous situation and imagining the possible worst; it feels like I could talk myself into/out of anything.

Before I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I had been aware of the lump in my breast for six months, but kept telling myself not to freak out and that it would probably go away on its own.

Maybe it’s really bad, maybe it’s not bad at all…I dunno…

Spoiler: it didn’t, and although the tumor was still Stage I-sized when I finally went to the doctor half a year later, it had already invaded the tissue outside the milk duct in which it originated. [To be fair to myself, there was more to that decision, which I won’t go into here. I wasn’t a total idiot about it.]

And then after completing all of my chemo rounds, one of my fingernails looked like it had a bubble underneath it…which I ignored for several days (actually, it became impossible to ignore because the pain was increasing), figuring I’d wait because it was probably just my nail coming off, which sometimes happens with chemo.

Except that it wasn’t. It was an infection. But instead of going to the ER immediately, I waited another night because it was the weekend and I figured I’d call my oncologist in the morning.

That night was worse than any night of my life. I barely slept because my hand was on fire and in the morning there was red line running down from my finger into my wrist.

At that point, I was probably closer to death than I had been throughout my entire cancer experience.

My point is, I was able to “reason away” any immediate responses and ignore striking red flags for fear of blowing things out of proportion. I didn’t want to look like a hypochondriac. It was hard for me to fathom that the situation was as dangerous as it ended up being.

But our lives are really so fragile. After going through cancer, I realized that something could be going on inside my body, silently, that could change me irreparably — even kill me — within a very short period of time. And it could be happening right now.

What a tenuous hold we have on our existence here. How often do we forget that? And why aren’t we more careful with ourselves?

Such a short tenure on this Earth. Where do we put our energy? Too many spend so much time being horrible to each other and the world around us. And most of us don’t appreciate what we have until it’s too late. Some of us never appreciate it at all.

Take a deep breath, hug the ones you love (that should include yourself) and enjoy this moment.

I’m going to go rinse with salt water…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little update: I made a doctor’s appointment for early tomorrow morning, after which I realized — through diligent image googling — that I probably had a massive canker sore. It’s not likely to kill me but it’s doing a good job making me miserable.

And if I’m wrong and it’s something worse…then that’ll be next week’s post.

Fighting Depression with Exercise

If you’ve hung around this blog for a while, you know that I am a firm believer that exercise will make just about anything better.

That was certainly the experience I had with cancer, as maintaining my fitness was critical to lifting my spirits. A nice workout was the best way for me to shake off the remaining side effects of a chemo infusion.

That’s why I’m not completely surprised that a group of researchers (Heissel et al., 2023, Br J Sports Med) are suggesting, based on a meta-analysis of 41 studies comprised of a total of 2264 participants, that exercise be used as a primary treatment for depression. That means they feel the results of their research demonstrated exercise to be just as effective as psychotherapy and medication.

The study authors conclude boldy, “Exercise is efficacious in treating depression and depressive symptoms and should be offered as an evidence-based treatment option focusing on supervised and group exercise with moderate intensity and aerobic exercise regimes.” [Emphasis mine]

However, while no one is arguing against the importance of exercise in helping individuals treat their depression, an article appearing in The Washington Post cites other researchers who feel that it may be premature to use exercise as a primary treatment for people suffering from clinical depression and suggest that additional studies should be conducted.

More research needs to be done to determine the specifics of how to use exercise to lift depression.

In particular, as a meta-analysis, although the total number of research participants was large (2,264), the individual studies on which the analysis was based tended to have smaller participant sizes, due in no small part to the fact that running studies like this can be costly.

There are still a number of questions that need to be addressed, such as exercise type, frequency, intensity and amount. Depression is different for everyone both in scope and origin, and an “exercise prescription” should be personalized for the individual. Still, no one is disupting that any form or length of exercise is far better than doing nothing.

In light of these results, what should you do?

Do the type of exercise you enjoy. The best results in this particular meta-analysis were obtained from moderate intensity exercise, although intense exercise was still beneficial, and benefits were also gained from even light exercise. Avoiding sedentary behavior was key.

If you’re just starting out, find a simple exercise that you’ll enjoy doing and will look forward to.

My personal suggestion for anyone who is not currently exercising would be to try to maintain consistency with a simple exercise like brisk walking. If you are able to get outside into nature, perfect! If you’re deadset on bingewatching the latest season of your favorite show and decide to march in place, swinging your arms while you watch, that is great too! It still beats the pants off of crashing out on the couch as the show plays on.

There are many ways to incorporate more movement into your life and also ways to make it pleasant so that you look forward to it. At the least, find a simple exercise that you don’t dread…and then keep doing it. In the meantime, we will await future studies that can offer more insights into the psychological benefits of exercise.

REFERENCES

The Study, a Meta-analysis
Heissel A, et al. (2023) Exercise as medicine for depressive symptoms? A systematic review and meta-analysis with meta-regression. Br J Sports Med. http://dx.doi.org/10.1136/bjsports-2022-106282.

A Reader-friendly Synopsis
Reynolds G (March 15, 2023) The best treatment for depression? It could be exercise. The Washington Post. https://www.washingtonpost.com/wellness/2023/03/15/exercise-depression-benefits/

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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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…

Finally Normal: My Six-Year Oncological Visit

I hit another cancer journey milestone this past week: my six-year oncology appointment.

Like my last few appointments, this one felt commonplace and unintimidating…and if the nurse had let me sit down for a couple of minutes after coming into the exam room, my blood pressure would have been lower. As it was, the reading was not that far from normal.

For the first time since cancer, my bloodwork is all normal!!!

One other thing that was strikingly normal: for the first time in six years, since all the cancer madness began, all my bloodwork, both Complete Blood Count (CBC) and Comprehensive Metabolic Profile (CMP), was completely normal. Nothing that would suggest a year’s worth of cancer treatment in the past.

This is so curious because for years, nothing felt normal.

Now everything is.

Ironically, it was my oncologist who was experiencing illness and I had to switch my appointment time so that he could get to his doctor.

I was hit by the realization that everything that had felt out-of-control and hopeless six years ago no longer existed. I was the one who had kept the idea of cancer alive in myself. I still defined myself as a cancer survivor because perhaps I needed some way to justify what I considered to be my shortcomings, as in, “I used to be able to do this, but…”.

This was a battle I fought in but only memories remain. In the present moment, there’s only silence.

Returning to the cancer center for this appointment felt like I was visiting a battlefield from a war that I had fought long ago. The echoes of battle cries…just the wind. The clashing weapons and falling bodies…not there anymore. This may sound like such an overly theatrical description, but that’s exactly what it seemed like.

This doesn’t mean that I’ve got the rest of my life figured out. There are still so many unknowns, including an increased chance of cancer recurrence — and I still need to schedule this year’s mammogram, something else that slipped my mind as I was basking in the idea of being “normal”.

But that tortured soul who, on top of all the other stressful things going on in her life, was hit with a cancer diagnosis…she doesn’t exist anymore. If I’m so unfortunate as to have the cancer come back, she won’t be experiencing the aftermath.

I will. And I feel like I’m so much better equipped to handle all that uncertainty than she ever was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I still call myself a cancer survivor. But it’s only one of a long list of “skills” that I have on my resume.

Six Years and 2 Days Ago, Panic

On Feb 8, 2017, I finally went to see my nurse practitioner about a breast lump that I’d originally noticed six months before, the previous August.

From the split second that the expression on her face shifted as she felt the lump and sent me off with an order for a diagnostic mammogram, everything changed. I went from hemming and hawing about spending the money on a copay for a doc appointment for something that would obviously turn out to be nothing…to a downward spiral into despair like I’d never felt before.

Memories of this period in my life are not very pleasant, so instead of loading up images of frightened faces and horrible possibilities, I’ve decided to post only peaceful pictures here.

Looking back on that time, knowing all the self-calming techniques and meditation methods that I currently practice, if I were going through this now one thing is very clear: I would still have panicked.

It bears mentioning that on Feb 8, 2017, I did not get my diagnosis. That appointment simply opened the door for scans that I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go through, but it devastated me regardless. In the two weeks that it took before I could actually go in for the mammogram and ultrasound, I died many times over.

The fact is, nothing ever prepares you for a cancer diagnosis. No matter what sort of mental calisthenics you practice, cancer is still CANCER. And even the idea that cancer could be a reality is terrifying.

There is no “alternative wording” that makes this easier. Sooner or later, you’d still bump up against that six-letter word that, for someone in my generation, meant a distinct possibility for a very sad ending (which arguably is an outdated and potentially irrational view, but that’s what you get).

Yeah, nothing stressful here. Just a sleepy kitten.

So rest assured, if you ever find yourself in this situation, no matter how you’re handling it, you’re doing a good job. Because you don’t really “handle” the news, you just splash around and try to keep your head above water.

Doctors, I’m told, practice delivering the news in a calm but empathic manner. Trust me, that’s kind of lost on the patient. Since my lump was clearly cancerous on the diagnostic ultrasound, I actually got the news broken to me twice:

My radiologist (after the ultrasound): “I have two things to tell you. One, you have cancer. Two, you’re going to be okay.”

My general practitioner (after the biopsy): “It’s as we feared. It’s cancer.”

See, whether the delivery is kind of upbeat with an attempt at a positive ending or whether it’s more reserved, anticipating the patient’s fear at hearing this, it doesn’t matter. Because once you cross that threshhold, you can’t turn back to “it’s nothing, have a nice day”. You are literally propelled forward into the next steps, and there will be many of them.

Room for one more image? How about tulips? I love tulips.

But there are a few things to remember. Being thrust headfirst into the world of cancer means that at least you’re not standing still like you are when you’re worrying about a diagnosis. Recalling Churchill’s famous quote, “When you’re going through hell, keep going”. Of all the times in a cancer journey, the point right around the diagnosis is the most terrifying because you know you have cancer but not necessarily how “bad” your situation is or what the next steps are.

There is relief in the movement of information and the passage of time. If there is a way to focus on the next step, always the next step, without getting overwhelmed by the tidal wave brought on by the concept of having cancer, you will be able to gingerly find yourself a path through which to navigate the cancer journey, and there is peace in that.

And if there isn’t peace…you’re still very normal. ❤

2023: Thriving at Last?

Some of our greatest strengths are born in our lowest moments.
Unknown

While I try not to keep returning to stories about “how far I’ve come” since my breast cancer diagnosis almost six years ago, for the start of 2023, I wanted to do a teensy bit of navel-gazing and take stock of how different everything looks compared to how it did after my 2017 diagnosis…and even from just a year ago.

My breast cancer story started the same way as it does for most of those diagnosed with cancer, with a lot of shock and disbelief. There’s nothing new or special about that.

However, for me cancer had been my ultimate health fear, the worst thing that I could image happening, particularly because I grew up during a time that cancer patients had poor prognoses and I had lost dear family to the disease. My exercise, dietary and lifestyle habits were in part driven by health concerns and that’s why my eventual diagnosis felt all the more “unfair”.

I have survived almost six years! But I had been so angry about my diagnosis that it took several years to appreciate how much of a victory that was.

The absolute worst health catastrophe that I feared could happen to me actually did happen…and I was too bitter to appreciate that I survived it.

Not only did I survive the treatment, I have slogged through lasting side effects. Trapped by fear and anger, I lost the initial positivity that I’d experienced right after completing chemo and radiation — I mean, after all that almost anything is going to feel better — and became mired in frustration.

When I finally managed to get through my head that there are many bad things that happen to people who do not deserve them, and many far worse than my own, I was able to move past my preoccupation with myself. That took longer than I’d like to admit.

But allowing that time to work through anger and fear until I got to the point of acceptance was so important for me. And the magical part of this is that acceptance was followed by an unfettering of my thoughts. Holding that bitterness had taken so much energy that little remained for other, more important things.

At the time of my diagnosis, I was fearful and bitter. A mere year ago, I was still angry. But in 2023, I have given myself the gift of freedom from that negativity and that allows so much space to breathe deeply and turn my attention towards better things. It was that release that took with it a nice chunk of anxiety that had likewise held me captive.

And now, instead of being just a survivor, I am finally feeling like I’m thriving.

Memory and Attention Adaptation Training (MAAT): Finding a Way to Deal with Chemo Brain

So, as I’ve written about in previous posts (here and here) there’s this thing called ‘chemo brain’, and contrary to what you might find when you google it, it doesn’t necessarily go away after you finish cancer treatment. It also has a longer name: Cancer-Related Cognitive Impairment (CRCI).

This can be particularly frustrating for those of us who are expected to perform “as before” (meaning, prior to getting cancer) and yet increasingly fall victim to distractions, searching for words, forgetting things as soon as we’re told them, and in general, wondering whether we’ve now come down with a mix of dementia and ADHD.

You’ll need more than a bouquet of forget-me-nots to navigate post-cancer issues like CRCI. Classes like MAAT can help.

There is help, however, and it’s arrived in the form of a class called Memory and Attention Adaptation Training (MAAT). I had the opportunity to take this 8-week class in Fall 2022 and it recently concluded.

The class is intelligently put together, first showing students the science about what they are experiencing (and that it’s not early-onset dementia!), and then over the next two months, teaching tricks and techniques for helping navigate the new landscape of CRCI.

This includes learning stress management techniques, improving sleep and pacing oneself, making self-care a high priority. But the majority of the class was devoted to learning how to use methods such as rehearsal/repetition, situational awareness, scheduling, distraction reduction, active listening and imagery. These help us maintain focus and retain information while reducing overwhelm.

It takes more than littering your desk with post-it notes. We need to create an environment that supports memory storage and distraction reduction.

I took the class through SHARP Hospital in the San Diego, CA area as part of their second cohort. It was taught by a clinical oncology social worker (herself a breast cancer survivor) and a speech pathologist, and their expertise made the class even more worthwhile. While the first cohort was in person, we in the second cohort had the benefit of taking the class via Zoom, which helped with accessibility, especially for those of us who are still working.

And a number of us there were already about 3-5 years out of treatment, which dispells the notion that chemo brain only lasts during treatment. Our cohort members’ ages ran the gamut from early 30s to well into retirement, illustrating that CRCI can show up in any cancer survivors regardless of age.

Realizing that this is affecting many more people that have been reporting symptoms, the SHARP Health Care system has opened the classes to individuals in other health systems in the San Diego area.

No matter where you live, if you are a cancer survivor experiencing some form of cognitive impairment, I urge you to 1) tell your oncological team (They need to know this is happening!) and 2) ask them about the availability of MAAT classes in your region. MAAT is not currently being offered widely, so please make your needs known so that this service can be expanded to those who need it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Curiously enough, one of the first assignments we had in the MAAT class was to work with gratitude – yes, it really does help! Such a perfect practice to begin at this time of the year! Happy Holidays to all! ❤

Finishing Faster: Exploring Shorter Radiation Treatment for Early-Stage Breast Cancer

Many of us who have lived through early stage breast cancer with lumpectomy surgery have also gone through radiation treatment.

If you’ve been there, you know the drill: 4-6 weeks of daily radiation sessions. Each one is relatively short, but there’s the time involved in getting there, changing into a gown, waiting for your turn, having the treatment, changing back into your clothes and getting back home (or work or wherever else you need to be).

And this happens every single day, five days a week, for weeks. You get to know your radiation therapists very well. And they get to see your breast over and over again. It goes on and on and on.

Closing the book on cancer treatment is a great feeling. And making radiation even shorter? Yes, please!

However, a recent clinical trial (described in the National Cancer Center’s Cancer Currents blog) examined the efficacy of a shorter 3-week session and found that the results (i.e., chances of cancer recurrence and serious side effects) were comparable to the longer, standard treatment.

Women who have an elevated risk of having the cancer recur at the tumor site are usually given an additional “boost” of radiation to that area. This takes place after the initial weeks of radiation, extending the length of treatment. However, researchers discovered that this boost could be given concurrently, thereby shortening the number of weeks that patients had to undergo radiation without compromising its effectiveness.

From the perspective of a patient, this is very welcome news. Setting aside time every day of the week to make the trip to the cancer center for treatment only works if your other responsibilities are flexible. I was working part-time during this, had access to a car, could get to the cancer center quickly and could be done in time to pick up my kids without too much of a problem. My bosses were extremely understanding and gave me the latitude I needed to complete my treatment with a minimum of stress.

For many, however, this might not be the case. Being able to shorten the overall treatment time could be critical in helping patients finish all their sessions.

It is heartening to know that as cancer treatments evolve, they become much easier to incorporate into our everyday lives. I am hopeful that the changes that come about over the next 10 years will provide even more options for successful completion of treatment with a greater survival rate for all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

REFERENCES

Reader-Friendly
Ben-Ari, E, Shorter Course of Radiation Is Effective, Safe for Some with Early-Stage Breast Cancer, Cancer Currents, November 30, 2022: https://www.cancer.gov/news-events/cancer-currents-blog/2022/early-breast-cancer-shorter-radiation-therapy

Note: the results of the referenced clinical trial were presented on Oct 24, 2022 at the American Society for Radiation Oncology (ASTRO) annual meeting in San Antonio, Texas with Frank Vicini, MD as the study leader. My expectation is that more information will be published and I will try to post it here once it is.