One year, nine months and three days later...

Wow, it's been a year since I finished treatment.  That flew by.  There have been a few more surgeries since then--I'm now ovary-less and post-menopausal and of course I have my new boobs, courtesy of my stomach fat.  I still miss my ovaries, my stomach fat not so much.

It was nice to re-read my post from this time last year. I initially almost missed this anniversary--for some reason I thought it was December 2.  I take that as a good sign, although I'm pretty sure it's still going to be awhile before I forget the anniversary of my diagnosis. So many anniversaries, so little time.

I still lurk on a breast cancer listserv that I joined during treatment.  There have been two recent articles/discussions that have been of interest to me lately and seemed appropriate for this post on the first post-treatment year.  One was on self-blame and cancer and the other was the pressure to move on after treatment.

Self-blame and cancer
Perhaps because of my BRCA2 status, I've never done a lot of reflection on what I could have done differently to prevent my cancer diagnosis.  It just didn't seem like a worthwhile activity because I don't have a time travel machine to go back in time anyway (if you have a time travel machine and would like to share, please let me know).  The only thing I probably could have done differently was have a preventive mastectomy.  But I probably would have only done that if I had said time machine. The thing that I worry about the most is that my worrying about my cancer coming back will become a self-fulfilling prophecy, so I try to avoid that, but that can be easier said than done.

Post-treatment support
If anything, the things that I still struggle with the most are the things that were taken away from me as a result of my BRCA2 status and diagnosis.  Even if I hadn't had my ovaries removed, I wouldn't be allowed to carry any of my own children because I'd be on Tamoxifen.  Yes, I'm very blessed with my two little girls and they are more than a handful, and I'm not even sure we would have actually had more children, but the point is the choice was taken away from me.  The removal of my ovaries made me post-menopausal in an instant.  This has its own joys.

The end of treatment was anti-climatic.  I got a nice little goodie bag from the radiation office and sort of got pushed back into "regular life".  Part of me welcomed this transition back to "regular life" with open arms.  But I also remember thinking "now what?"

There is definitely a lack of resources for post-cancer treatment (at least in breast cancer). Or these resources aren't directed at people that work during the day as they seem to happen in the middle of the day.  And I live in a part of the country where I had the luxury of choosing from a handful of great places for treatment.  I can't imagine what it's like for people who live in areas with limited treatment options, let alone post-treatment resources.  I can understand why many women stay on listservs such as the one I've stayed connected to just to be part of a group that understands all of the above.  Which isn't to say that I couldn't talk to any friends about this, but I think a lot of people don't know what to say.  Which is perfectly fine, because I wouldn't know what to say either.

Other things
I get a lot more upset now when I hear of people dying from this horrible disease.  When Diem Brown passed away, it hung over me for a few weeks. (I'll save my rant on the language around "losing her battle".  I HATE that saying.)  I also get sad and frustrated when I hear about a friend's friend/family member dying.

I miss the people that I connected with during treatment.  I see many of these people still but not all of them.  What I do like is still seeing these people and not having the whole cancer thing hang over the conversation.  There are people I've met since treatment that have no idea I had cancer until I tell them (or maybe they do but I don't know they know).  It's a nice feeling to not be that person anymore.  

I'm not sure this post makes a lot of sense.  It's taking more concentration than I have right now.  The aforementioned children are alternating between having fun, complaining about being hungry and making a mess so they keep taking away my focus (how DARE they!).

So let's raise a glass to...whatever.  When I was looking for a picture of a glass of champagne, I found this little gem:

 

It's okay to say these things to somebody that has cancer

This article came out a few months ago.  I didn't comment it at the time but it's always sort of been in the back of my mind.  I had some people say some strange things to me during my treatment.  I'm usually pretty candid, but in this case I'm going to maintain their anonymity.  Fortunately these people are in the minority.  As I've stated many times before, most people were awesome.  If anything, I was more hurt by the people that didn't say anything at all than the occasional person that said something thoughtless.

It's because of the people that didn't say anything at all that I found this article a little problematic. I'd say I agree with less than half of these. People want to help, they want to say the right thing.  Sometimes they don't know what to say or do.  These articles don't help.  Let's take this article with a grain of salt: no offense to Yahoo! but it's Yahoo!, it's not the New York Times.  Here's my response, item by item:

1. You are strong and will get through this.  When people used to tell me this, I felt lonely because I knew this was my fight and while I had a lot of support, it was ultimately something I had to go through alone.  Again, people don't know what to say.  As I've stated in a previous post, some of us "fight" cancer successfully, some of us don't.  This isn't a reflection on how strong we are.  
2. How are you feeling? Again, I'm not sure why this is something you shouldn't say.  If somebody asked me this, sometimes I'd be honest and say I felt like crap.  I assumed people asked because they genuinely care.  Is it something that people asked me a lot?  Yes.  Was it sometimes a reminder that I felt like crap?  Yes.  Would I want people to not ask?  No, I'd rather they ask.
3. Can I do anything to help?  This post is becoming a review of past posts.  In this post I discussed things people could do to help.  Yes it's vague but at least people are asking.  As the patient, it's within your power to offer something concrete or say no.  If they're not sincere in their offer, you'll find out soon enough.
4. How serious is the cancer?  Is this an insensitive question?  I guess it could be perceived that way.  I have a theory that people want to know that you're going to be okay, especially if you're in a similar demographic to them (e.g., "young" (for cancer at least), little kids, etc).  If anything I'd think that people would talk about this behind your back, not ask you straight out. According to this article, you're also not supposed to ask what the treatment plan is.  I was never bothered about people asking me what my treatment plan is.  I ask current patients what their treatment plan is.  As frequent readers of this blog know, I put just about everything out there, so maybe I am unique in this.  
5. My grandmother/mom/sister/friend had cancer...Everybody knows somebody that's had cancer.  Fortunately most people told me stories (or connected me to) about people that were alive and well.
6. I read an article in the newspaper that said you should...This is probably the one I feel the strongest about.  I now get really, really riled up when people post (mostly unscientific) articles that say that fat, eating meat, dairy, etc. causes cancer.  These are often uncited articles with no scientific basis.  If you can't cite a study to accommodate this claim, please don't share this. If you share it on FB, block me. For every scientific study you show me that says that sitting on your head causes cancer, I can show you a study that says it doesn't.  So stop this.  Researchers don't know what causes cancer in a lot of cases--that's probably one reason why they haven't figured out how to stop it.
7. Your hair looks good like that.  This one did (and still does) drive me crazy a little bit.  And no, I'm not keeping it this short.  I'm going to keep growing it.  And no it wasn't as curly before.  But again, people are making conversation and trying to give you a compliment (assume it's a compliment).
8. God doesn't give you more than you can handle.  I'm not sure if he does or doesn't.  A lot of people prayed for me.  This was really really nice of them, but I preferred to focus on science than prayer.  No offense. 
9. I know how you feel.  I did have somebody that kept comparing her knee surgery to my treatment.  That was a little odd.  She was also most vocal about item #7 too.
10. You must have done something to get it.  Fortunately nobody said this to me, although I knew people that experienced this.  This isn't cool.

Read the article for yourself.  If you've committed any of these, don't be so hard on yourself (unless it was items 6 or 10).  I think it's better to say something than say nothing at all.