My mom is her usual dynamic self almost two years postdiagnosis. She still has some aches and pains in her left breast (did I mention that we both were diagnosed in our left boobs?), but that’s a common side effect of surgery and radiation. Every once in a while if she worries about a bump or pain, I urge her to see Dr. O, which she does without hesitation. Mom is like the Energizer Bunny. You would never know she’d been through anything at all without her bringing it up.
Nearly five years post her diagnosis, my aunt is as dynamic as ever (she lives out of state but I saw her in January for my mom’s seventy-fifth birthday). She’s back to all her social and charitable endeavors and her frequent travels. She has gone through multiple surgeries and had a successful reconstruction on one of her breasts. Things didn’t pan out quite as she’d hoped with the other breast. So she calls them Barbie and Ken, and she likes to say that it’s no surprise Ken has been the bigger pain in the ass. With her blessing, I share that tidbit when I speak at breast cancer fund-raisers. People seem to get a kick out of it!
(5) What advice would you give to friends and families of those going through cancer treatment? How can we help our loved ones to heal?
Be supportive in whatever way you can, even if it’s making a phone call or shooting off e-mails now and then just to ask, “How’re you doing?” Understand the range of emotions that come with someone being diagnosed and don’t ever belittle feelings of helplessness or fear. Let your loved one know she has the right to be scared and even to throw a pity party now and then. Just don’t let those pity parties go on for too long! If you feel inclined to give gifts, make them gifts of comfort, like fuzzy socks, a soft throw, favorite movies or TV shows on DVD. Keep up a sense of humor. Laughter is great medicine. Realize that this isn’t a process that’s neatly wrapped up in a week, or even months. The healing process takes years, maybe a lifetime. So don’t tell a survivor to “snap out of it” or you might get smacked upside the head. Be patient and listen. Sometimes advice isn’t needed as much as a shoulder to lean on.
(6) Have you met new friends because of having cancer that you might not otherwise have made? Do you feel as if the bond with other survivors is stronger than that with your friends who haven’t dealt with cancer?
I have definitely made friends because of my diagnosis that I would not have made otherwise, like Helen Chesnut, the executive director of the St. Louis affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure, and Patti Hummert, the Missouri coordinator of Casting for Recovery. They both make me laugh and inspire me, and I’m glad every day that I know them. I’ve become friendly with a number of survivors online and from the speaking I’ve done. Survivors do have a special connection. We can talk about things that we don’t talk about with those who haven’t been through what we’ve been through. It’s very liberating. It’s been interesting with my mom having gone through breast cancer as well. Being able to share such a strange and life-changing experience is like sharing a secret, one that adds a different depth to the relationship.
(7) Do you have a way of memorializing your years since kicking cancer?
I’m heading toward six years since my diagnosis this December (2012). I think there’s always a moment every year on December 28 when I look at Ed or my mom and say, “Can you believe I was having my first surgery on this date in 2006?” Or every January 10 when I remember going back in for my re-excision. I don’t imagine I’ll ever forget those anniversaries. But I don’t do anything big or special. I truly celebrate each and every day. I am happy to wake up each morning and be able to write the books I want to write. And I feel like the luckiest woman alive every time I see Ed smile or ponder the miracle that is Emily. In fact, speaking of Emily, she was born in late June under the sign of Cancer, which I find kind of funny. It’s like the universe is saying, See! There’s a positive side to that word after all. Embrace it! Every day that I’m healthy is a celebration. So is talking about what happened to me and causing someone else who’s diagnosed to think, If she can do it, I can do it. That’s something to cheer!
Susan’s Tips on Dating After Forty
1. Let trusted friends set you up rather than looking for love online. Yeah, I know, maybe it’s my age but I still don’t trust strangers over the Internet (or Web sites that require too much personal information—they can get hacked)! I like meeting people face-to-face from the get-go. You’ll get more immediate and truthful reactions one-on-one than you ever will from a text, e-mail, Facebook comment, or tweet. And if you don’t have friends who’ll set you up, get out there and do things where you’ll meet new people. Take that art class you’ve been putting off, sign up for tai chi, learn a new language, or join a bird-watching group. Seriously, if you’re doing something you enjoy and you meet someone else who enjoys the same thing, you’re already ahead of the game.
2. Be your authentic self; but be your best self. Here’s where you take a look at yourself and decide if there’s room for improvement. Have you been slacking in the exercise department? Are you drinking scads of soda and eating too much fast food? I’m not saying that you have to be lean and mean and ready to tackle a marathon. But I want you to feel fit and healthy and strong. If you love yourself, you’ll take care of yourself by consuming food that’s good for you and keeping your muscles (especially that heart muscle!) fit. Also, look at your hair and wardrobe. Have you not tweaked your appearance since 1988? I had the same “boring bob” for at least twenty years before I let it go. Even doing something as simple as getting a new cut or color—or a couple of fresh outfits that are outside your comfort zone—can be inspiring. However, if you decide to make some changes, do it for yourself, not for anyone else.
3. Don’t look at every date as an attempt to find a potential mate. Look at dates as a chance to make new friends. I think we set ourselves up for failure when we invest too much in a first or second date with someone new. If you put less pressure on yourself, you’ll have more fun and you’ll be less nervous. Try meeting for lunch or coffee at a bookstore instead of dinner. And remember, if you arrive in your own car, you can leave at will. Sometimes you won’t feel sparks fly right away either. I think the best relationships—and the longest lasting—begin as friendships first. So don’t give up on someone you genuinely like and have a lot in common with if you don’t feel lust at first sight.
4. Listen to your gut. If warning bells go off about anything—and I mean anything—take a hint. There are reasons that we have instincts. They’re for survival. If your inner voice tells you this person isn’t kosher, if you sense any threat or danger, if you just get a weird vibe but you don’t know why, pay attention. When it comes to relationships, as with our health, we need to acknowledge that gut feeling and realize that it’s often right.
5. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Before I met Ed, I met more than a few men who were completely wrong for me (ah, let me count the ways!). If you realize you’ve made a mistake, don’t let that derail you forever. Everyone has lapses in judgment. Don’t blame yourself if a new relationship does not work. Some things are just not meant to be. When you find the right person—the one who accepts you and loves you for who you are—you will feel it to your bones! Bad relationships are worse than no relationships. If all cylinders aren’t clicking, move on.
6. Be kind to yourself and realize that it’s okay to be alone. I know too many women who’ve gotten involved in really bad relationships just so they don’t have to stay home and watch TV or read a book on a Saturday night. I’m not sure what’s wrong with staying home and reading, to be honest! If you can’t stand to be by yourself, maybe you need to find out why. The best mates are folks who feel complete and who don’t depend on someone else to entertain them or give them worth. Single people can have wonderful, full lives with careers, hobbies, friends, and family. If you are happy and content, you will attract people who are happy and content. If you are miserable and insecure, you will attract folks who are miserable and insecure or w
ho prey on those who are miserable and insecure. You must learn to love yourself before you can fully love someone else.
7. Life is short, so enjoy every moment. Don’t wait until a health crisis to stop and smell the roses. It’s okay to say no to others once in a while. Save some time for yourself. Make sure you’re doing at least one thing you love every day, even if it’s waking up to see the sun rise, taking a bubble bath, or sipping tea on the patio. Live simply and understand that the little things are important.
What I Learned from My Diagnosis
1. Take Control of Your Health Care and Be Your Own Advocate.
Cancer can happen to anyone at any age. I wasn’t a drinker or smoker. I was never considered overweight. Initially, there was no indication in my family history that I was more susceptible than the average Jane. Sometimes there is no concrete answer as to why bad things happen. That’s just life. What’s important when you’re dealing with something tricky like cancer is to catch it early. If you’re a woman, that means having annual physical exams and screening tests like mammograms. You can’t just do these things willy-nilly. Especially once you hit forty, you need to pay attention to what’s going on with your body. I’ve had several fortysomething moms tell me, “Oh, I haven’t had a mammogram in years! Guess I should probably get one, huh?” I have to refrain from slapping them silly. If you don’t do these things for yourself and you’re a mom, do them for your kids so they have their mother around for a long, long time.
Get copies of your lab work and become familiar with what your numbers are and mean. Keep a file for your medical records. Doctors have lots of patients, and sometimes patients see lots of doctors. You need to be the one in control of your medical information. You need to stay on top of things. Don’t rely on someone else to take charge for you. This is even more important when you’re diagnosed with a serious illness.
Be proactive, ask questions, and learn as much as you can about what you’re dealing with. And if you’re too frightened or paralyzed to be your own best advocate, ask a friend or family member who’s pushy/bossy to be your spokesperson. You are not a sheep. You are not a statistic. You’re a unique individual who deserves to be treated as such. The medical treatment that works for someone else may not work for you. You need to pay attention and be informed so that the decisions you make are ones you can live with for the rest of your life.
2. Doctors Are Not Dictators—You Are in the Driver’s Seat.
Yes, you must trust your doctor. Yes, you must have enough faith to believe that she knows what she’s doing and is looking out for your best interests. But that doesn’t mean you should blindly accept and do everything she says. (See be your own advocate, above!) Your course of treatment is up to you in the end. Your doctor should give you options and explain them thoroughly. Although time is of the essence, you should still take a deep breath and make sure you understand your choices. Think them over and speak with your loved ones before you proceed. Once I had learned as much as I could about my particular rare cancer from trusted medical sites online and from research studies I looked up, I felt competent to ask more in-depth questions and to challenge certain aspects of my proposed treatment. My oncologist was bound and determined that I have chemo. But when I read my pathology report (something every patient should read and understand) and numerous articles on pure mucinous carcinoma, I felt that chemotherapy would be overkill. I discussed this with all of my doctors independently, and a majority agreed (three out of four, as a matter of fact). Thus, I felt very comfortable saying, “No, thank you. I will do the six and a half weeks of radiation therapy but I will pass on the chemo cocktail.” It gave me a sense of control to actually have a say in things.
Every patient needs to feel that sense of participation in and acceptance of her treatment. Again, we need to trust our doctors (and, if we don’t, we need to find new physicians); but we also must arm ourselves with knowledge, ask questions, and take an active part in choosing the correct path for our individual needs.
3. There Are Things You Will Learn Only from Going Through Them.
I wish I could tell you that modern medicine had all the answers; that, once you’re diagnosed, you’ll get all pertinent facts about what you’ll be facing, every ache and pain and weird twinge. But that won’t be the case. There were many side effects of my treatment that I only found out about by going through them. And often when I asked my medical team about the odd sensations I experienced, they could not give me answers. I learned more about what was “normal” from other survivors than I did from my doctors or nurses. In fact, when I went to my thirty-four sessions of radiation, one of my goals was to chat with the women in the waiting room, find out their situations, and ask at least one question, like “Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night with shooting pains in your chest like you were having a heart attack?” Answer: “Yes.” It was so nice to know I wasn’t alone or actually having a heart attack.
Know that your surgery and treatment will affect your body (and your mind) for years to come. I have aching ribs in my radiation treatment area when rain is coming (yes, like arthritis). I have had stabbing pains that I’ve attributed to the fact that the heart muscle and muscles nearby are often touched by the radiation. Surgery clips nerves that may never recover properly or recover at all. Many survivors have no sensation under their armpits after node removal. Be accepting that whatever was done has been done to keep you healthy and alive for as long as possible; but understand that you are not the same person as you were before. You’ve had trauma to your skin, nerves, muscles, etc. Your true recovery will be years in coming, and your mind won’t ever completely reset to where you were before your diagnosis. However, you will adapt. You will be stronger for it. You will move on.
4. Embrace All Those Follow-up Appointments.
For at least five years following your diagnosis, you will see your doctors a lot. I think I was going in every three months to see someone on my team, if only for a breast exam. Okay, yes, it sounds like a pain, but it’s important to stay on top of your recovery. I always found these follow-ups reassuring. I did eventually stop seeing my radiation oncologist (whom I adored) and my oncologist (I found her very dismissive of the positive changes I’d made in my life, like eating organic, switching to more natural and organic products for my body and my house.). But I still see my breast surgeon twice a year as I alternate a mammogram with an ultrasound every six months (and she reviews all pictures with the radiologist immediately before she sees me for a physical exam in her office). I still have an MRI of my breasts every two years as well. I also don’t hesitate to call and schedule an appointment if something doesn’t look or feel right. In fact, during my recent pregnancy I went in because my left breast turned bright red after I worked in the yard in an ill-fitting exercise bra. Honestly, I’d rather look like a worrywart than say, “Aw, I’m sure it’s nothing,” and I would urge all women to do the same. It is far, far better to be safe than sorry.
Additional Information
For additional information, please visit these Web sites:
http://SusanMcBride.com
http://HopkinsMedicine.org
http://MayoClinic.com
http://BreastCancer.org
http://Komen.org
http://CastingforRecovery.org
http://LiveStrong.org
An excerpt from
The Truth About Love and Lightning
Available February 2013 from William Morrow Paperbacks
Prologue
ANNIKA BRINK COULD not tell a lie.
From as far back as Gretchen could remember, her mother had been unable to utter anything but the cold, unvarnished truth—or, at least, the truth according to Annika—and, as Gretchen learned quickly enough as a child, often the truth set no one free and was downright painful besides.
As when the twins were born when Gretchen was five. “They are not right,” Annika had insisted,
her pale hair wild and hands on her hips, such a ferocious frown on her lips that it looked for all intents and purposes as though she might want to take them back to the county hospital posthaste.
Which had Gretchen wondering if one could return babies the same way one returned a glass bottle drained of soda to the grocer’s for a nickel.
“Do you not see what I see?” Annika had nagged her very tolerant husband.
“They look fine to me,” Gretchen’s father had replied, and he’d bent over the double-wide crib to first rub Bennie’s belly and then Trudy’s. “They’ve each got ten fingers and ten toes, perfect button noses, and ears like tiny seashells.”
“Then you are as blind as they are,” Annika had bluntly stated. “Look at their eyes! They’re such a milky blue and neither so much as blinks when I pass my hand before them. Do you think it’s my fault, for painting while I was pregnant?” she had asked, madly pacing. “Was it the fumes from the oils or the turpentine? As an artist, I can’t imagine a more horrible curse than to lose one’s sight!”
“Oh, I can think of plenty,” Gretchen’s father had coolly replied, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the crib’s railing. “Would you cast out a calf because it couldn’t see, when its milk will be no different than a cow with sight?”
“Please!” Annika had loudly and dismissively snorted. “I know you believe animals are like people because you spend more time with beasts than humans,” she’d told him, “but these are our daughters, not barnyard creatures!”
For a long moment, Gretchen had shut out their voices, having heard them argue enough before about her father’s job as a farm veterinarian, how it kept them in Walnut Ridge when Annika found so much about small-town life uncultured and unfit.
In the Pink Page 6