Sunday, January 26, 2014
The life of a 20-something cancer patient: He's a Bitter
The life of a 20-something cancer patient: He's a Bitter: Last week, I found out that my tumors have spread to my breast. The news wasn't entirely a surprise, but unwelcome none the less. I kn...
He's a Biter
Last week, I found out that my tumors have spread to my breast. The news wasn't entirely a surprise, but unwelcome none the less. I knew that finding out the cancer had spread meant that I would have to endure a battery of new, and repeat tests to properly diagnosis the spreading, as well as, form a new treatment plan.
The first test needed was a mammogram. I was well aware that would be the test needed. I had never had one before, so I was a little nervous. I had went into the test pretty much knowing what to expect. I asked my mom what it was like when she had hers. She told me it was uncomfortable, but fairly quick. Easy enough, or so I thought.
The FIRST mammogram went like my mom had explained. It was weird, and awkward, but not too terrible. I capitalized first because, of course, it wasn't that simple. I had to have further testing. I needed to have a sonogram to get a better picture of the mass, and a reverse mammogram. Whatever that is...
The sonogram was a cake walk. It was basically a ultrasound of my boob. It was still weird because I was lying there with my boob out in all it's glory. Anyone who knows me, knows that I liked to stay covered up. I'm not a prude, but I like to keep the girls in check.
After taking those pictures, it was time for the reverse mammogram. Here's where it got REALLY uncomfortable. As if it wasn't already.... I walk into the mammogram area, and took a look at the machine. It wasn't the same machine used a few days ago. This bitch was something straight out of Star Trek. It was HUGE, and extremely terrifying. I had no idea which end was up, or where exactly my breast was supposed to go. Mammograms are intimidating in their own right, but this reverse mammogram deal had me scared shitless. I had to just suck it up, and go with the flow.
As I walked through the double doors toward the alien-like piece of machinery, I clutched my gown closed, so I didn't flash anyone walking by. The doors slammed behind me. Two women walked in from behind that glass shield. The older woman told me that the younger girl was a new mammogram technician. She asked if it was okay for her to watch/participate in the procedure, so she could learn the protocol. I thought to myself, "Yeah, go ahead and add another person to this circus." I just shook my head politely.
They had me walk up to the monstrosity, remove my left arm from the gown, and let it drape behind my back. Then the older woman lifted my arm over the top of one part of the machine to grab a handle on the other side. I was already cold, and uncomfortable, but it was about to get worse. The older woman instructed the younger girl to go under the machine and hold my breast while two bookend looking pieces moved together to smash my boob between them. Are you kidding me? I was mortified that this poor girl had to support my breast while the bookend pieces closed in. That wasn't eve the worst part.
As the machine was positioning itself, the older lady asked me a few questions. Most of them were standard questions. The one that I found unusual was regarding trauma to my boob. She explained to me that the sonogram showed signs of trauma. It looked to them, as though, I had had recent bruising to my breast. She asked if I had known that to me true. Me, trying to be funny said..."Well, my husband is a biter." The girl below me, still hold my boob, struggled not to laugh. The older lady, on the other had, gave me a look of disgust. In my head I'm thinking, "Oh lordy, you're such an idiot Meg!", but the damage had been done. I tried my best to shrug off the remark. I dropped me head down, and said that I was unaware of any trauma. The woman gave me a stern "mmm-hmm", and rolled her eyes. I remained quiet for the remainder of the test, and practically ran out of the room when it was over. I'm sure my face was beet-red with embarrassment!
Take it from me, don't try to be funny during a mammogram...
The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Senior Citizen Fight Club
The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Senior Citizen Fight Club: I walked into the hospital a few days ago, the same way I would any other day. I was saying "hello" to my fellow patient friends,...
Senior Citizen Fight Club
I walked into the hospital a few days ago, the same way I would any other day. I was saying "hello" to my fellow patient friends, and to the nurses I have become close with. I often strike up casual conversations with many of them. We catch up on what's been going on in each other's lives, and we tend to joke around about life with cancer. On this particular day, I was telling a story about how my dog, Ollie, seems to have sympathy throw up for me. I can't tell you the countless times I have walked out of the bathroom after getting sick, only to find that Ollie "tossed his cookies", all over the floor. It's pretty gross, but in a strange way, kind of endearing.
On this particular day, one of the elderly men apparently had it with me. He walked right up to me, and screamed in my face. "Don't you have fucking cancer?" I was taken aback by his forceful question. I calmly answered, "Yes, I do." He quickly replied by telling me that I am too perky, and cheerful to be a cancer patient. He told me that he all too often he sees me walking through the hospital with a smile on my face, and hugging people. He also told me that I'm too happy to be a cancer patient. I was about to explain to him that I try to maintain a positive demeanor for myself, and the other patients when another elderly man jumped in, on my behave. He started yelling at the other man to shut his mouth, and how dare he talked to me like that. He went on to explain that many of them look forward to my arrival to the hospital, and that I am the only thing that gets them through most days.
As the two men are bickering at each other, I see a cloud of elderly patients starting to form around them. Hearing the the screeching of walkers along the floor, the popping of cane dancing along the tiles, and the distinctive scent of Bengay in the air, I felt like I was entering senior citizen fight club. The crowd around them began slewing remarks. I even heard them starting to chant, and cheer. I was waiting for them to start jousting with their canes. Luckily, two nurses arrived in time to break up the ruckus.
I guess it just goes to show that no matter how old they get, and regardless of the facility, boys will be boys. Later that day, the man apologized to me for being out of line. He explained that he was having a difficult day, and inappropriately took it out on me. He even admitted to liking my cheery disposition. Of course, I accepted his apology, and told him not to worry. We all get on edge some days.
You never quite know what might go down at the hospital. Nothing surprises me anymore, but that day definitely threw me for a loop! Now when I walk onto that floor of the hospital, I do a quick patient check. Just in case!
On this particular day, one of the elderly men apparently had it with me. He walked right up to me, and screamed in my face. "Don't you have fucking cancer?" I was taken aback by his forceful question. I calmly answered, "Yes, I do." He quickly replied by telling me that I am too perky, and cheerful to be a cancer patient. He told me that he all too often he sees me walking through the hospital with a smile on my face, and hugging people. He also told me that I'm too happy to be a cancer patient. I was about to explain to him that I try to maintain a positive demeanor for myself, and the other patients when another elderly man jumped in, on my behave. He started yelling at the other man to shut his mouth, and how dare he talked to me like that. He went on to explain that many of them look forward to my arrival to the hospital, and that I am the only thing that gets them through most days.
As the two men are bickering at each other, I see a cloud of elderly patients starting to form around them. Hearing the the screeching of walkers along the floor, the popping of cane dancing along the tiles, and the distinctive scent of Bengay in the air, I felt like I was entering senior citizen fight club. The crowd around them began slewing remarks. I even heard them starting to chant, and cheer. I was waiting for them to start jousting with their canes. Luckily, two nurses arrived in time to break up the ruckus.
I guess it just goes to show that no matter how old they get, and regardless of the facility, boys will be boys. Later that day, the man apologized to me for being out of line. He explained that he was having a difficult day, and inappropriately took it out on me. He even admitted to liking my cheery disposition. Of course, I accepted his apology, and told him not to worry. We all get on edge some days.
You never quite know what might go down at the hospital. Nothing surprises me anymore, but that day definitely threw me for a loop! Now when I walk onto that floor of the hospital, I do a quick patient check. Just in case!
The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Why?
The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Why?: In the past two months, I have witnessed four cancer deaths. Three of the deceased are young children. The sadness runs deeper than that I...
Why?
In the past two months, I have witnessed four cancer deaths. Three of the deceased are young children. The sadness runs deeper than that I have ever known. I cannot find the words to express the torturous pain I'm feeling. All I can say is that...it's just not fair! Why does this have to happen? Why does cancer have to enter our lives, and inflict so much agony upon us? WHY????
This is a question that can never truly be answered. No doctor, nurse, family member, or friend can tell us why cancer has to disrupt our lives. Cancer comes without warning, and all too often takes loved ones away before we are ready to say goodbye. There is no rhyme, or reason to it's destructive path. There will be no comfort, no closure until there is a cure.
The one aspect, I find most troubling about cancer is it's pure randomness. Why does a cancer diagnosis in one person result in imminent death, but results in remission in another? Why does cancer spread to other parts of the body in person "A", but remains localized in person "B"? I'm sure that these questions plague many cancer patients, and the family members of loved ones with cancer. The one question that I ponder the most, might be the question that sets me apart from others with cancer. It is all to common to ask, Why me? The answer I want to know is, Why not me?
I would give my life, for the life of one those children, that cancer stole. It is unfair that such a horrible illness has to take the life of a young child. That little boy, or girl had so much love, compassion, creativity, knowledge, and life to share. Why did they get ripped away from their future? Why I am still alive instead of one of these children?
I have seen cancer take the life of too many people days, weeks, or months after diagnosis. These people completed all of their treatments, taken all of their medications, and followed their doctor's orders to without fail, yet cancer still took their lives. Why didn't they go into remission? Why did they have to die?
I am a terrible patient. I talk back, I make my own schedule, I sometimes follow my doctor's orders, and yet, I continue on. I'm still alive. Alive, and continually fighting this awful disease. Cancer has uprooted my life, and the lives of those around me for almost five years. We have dealt with enormous hurdles, physical and emotional struggles, countless frustrations, and more pain than happiness, yet I'm still here. Why hasn't cancer claimed my life?
There is no clear answer to why. I have racked my brain, questioned every doctor, endlessly asked my family, but no one can tell me why. I have come to the realization that I might not ever know why cancer takes some people, and not others. I have found comfort knowing that it is not yet my time. I will continue along my life's path, trying not to skew too far off course, and to live only that in which I know to be true.
Live, Laugh, Love
This is a question that can never truly be answered. No doctor, nurse, family member, or friend can tell us why cancer has to disrupt our lives. Cancer comes without warning, and all too often takes loved ones away before we are ready to say goodbye. There is no rhyme, or reason to it's destructive path. There will be no comfort, no closure until there is a cure.
The one aspect, I find most troubling about cancer is it's pure randomness. Why does a cancer diagnosis in one person result in imminent death, but results in remission in another? Why does cancer spread to other parts of the body in person "A", but remains localized in person "B"? I'm sure that these questions plague many cancer patients, and the family members of loved ones with cancer. The one question that I ponder the most, might be the question that sets me apart from others with cancer. It is all to common to ask, Why me? The answer I want to know is, Why not me?
I would give my life, for the life of one those children, that cancer stole. It is unfair that such a horrible illness has to take the life of a young child. That little boy, or girl had so much love, compassion, creativity, knowledge, and life to share. Why did they get ripped away from their future? Why I am still alive instead of one of these children?
I have seen cancer take the life of too many people days, weeks, or months after diagnosis. These people completed all of their treatments, taken all of their medications, and followed their doctor's orders to without fail, yet cancer still took their lives. Why didn't they go into remission? Why did they have to die?
I am a terrible patient. I talk back, I make my own schedule, I sometimes follow my doctor's orders, and yet, I continue on. I'm still alive. Alive, and continually fighting this awful disease. Cancer has uprooted my life, and the lives of those around me for almost five years. We have dealt with enormous hurdles, physical and emotional struggles, countless frustrations, and more pain than happiness, yet I'm still here. Why hasn't cancer claimed my life?
There is no clear answer to why. I have racked my brain, questioned every doctor, endlessly asked my family, but no one can tell me why. I have come to the realization that I might not ever know why cancer takes some people, and not others. I have found comfort knowing that it is not yet my time. I will continue along my life's path, trying not to skew too far off course, and to live only that in which I know to be true.
Live, Laugh, Love
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