Over the last few days, I completed a battery of tests and check ups with a coterie of doctors. An appointment with Sigal, the surgeon who operated on me in May and was the original bearer of bad tidings, finally put to rest any lingering fears of IBC and I am now convinced that my swollen breast is due solely to the radiation therapy. To celebrate, I bought some new bras. Ironically, the afflicted breast is rounder, more firm and generally nicer looking than other one, which is smaller and tends to droop.
However, by the following Sunday, I was ready for additional reassurance from my oncologist. Dr. Sarid did the usual pummeling, poking and prodding and pronounced me lump- and IBC-free. He explained how the tissue had been fried and the molecules rearranged and that it could take not just months, but even years for the swelling to subside. Now that IBC is off my mind, I can go back to obsessing about metastasis. Dr. Sarid agreed with me that the threat of metastasis is everpresent, which was not very comforting. It's incredible that our advanced technology hasn't yet developed any means of honing in on aberrant cells en route to wreaking havoc in the body's vital organs.
My next appointment is in three months' time.
I also had an appointment with the endocrinologist, who has added vitamin E to my daily intake. My morning routine now includes swallowing Tomoxifen, black cohosh, vitamin E - which serves as a major antioxidant - and a glassful of green magma.
Despite some pressure from the social workers, I have resigned from the breast cancer support group. It suddenly seemed absurd and wasteful of precious evening hours to spend time traveling to and from Tel Aviv just to discuss cancer with people who are not my bosom :-) buddies. There's a sense of artificiality in meeting once a week with a group of people with whom the only unifying factor is that we've all suffered from the same disease. There is a limit to how much one can talk about it.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
Breathing Freely
My mammogram and ultra sound results are back and everything is OK. For about an hour before Nachum phoned from the Herzliya Medical Center with the good news, I was incapable of coherent thought and did nothing but play mindless games on the computer. Working was impossible. As a bonus, it appears that my bone density test actually shows improvement in my thigh bones.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Battery of Tests
I have begun a battery of tests preparatory to my next appointment with Dr. Sarid on January 13. Yesterday I had the dreaded mammogram, which was particularly painful on my afflicted, still-swollen left breast. I also had an ultra-sound, the test which had confirmed the presence of cancer only eight months and a lifetime ago. I’ve decided to throw in a cardiologist and a dermatologist in addition to all the other tests I’m doing for a full and comprehensive inspection of all my body parts. Because Tomoxifen can cause cataracts, I’ve also checked my eyes and happily, they are in good condition, apart from a few annoying floaters that have been around for a while.
Support Group
I joined a support group through the One in Nine organization and the weekly meetings began a few weeks ago. Strangely, I was first interviewed by the two social workers for suitability; apparently, having had cancer does not automatically qualify one to join a support group. From among the seven or so women who apparently also passed muster, I was particularly struck by the wide range of cancer experiences. Three of them have had radical mastectomies - one woman, with a tumor half the size of mine, but with a higher oncotest rating, had opted for chemotherapy and a full mastectomy.
This is the first time I’ve joined a support group and I wasn’t sure what to expect. The overall rationale is that as fellow sufferers, we can say things to each other that only we can understand or appreciate. Now, after four or five meetings, we’ve exchanged our cancer stories and added some personal information. The social workers, who monitor the meetings, occasionally pipe in with an observation or two. I’m not sure what their role is; whether it’s to guide our chat in a certain direction, to summarize what we’ve talked about in order to draw conclusions or if they are just there to lend an air of officialdom to the proceedings. Some bonding should be taking place and indeed some of the women have formed friendships ‘after hours’, but at the last meeting I had an acute feeling that, as a group, we really didn’t have that much to talk about.
Unfortunately, I know enough women with whom I can discuss the different angles of our cancer and even those friends who have not personally experienced the disease are there for me to offload an angst or two. Add to that the fact that I don’t get home until after 10.30, I have good enough reasons to consider resigning.
This is the first time I’ve joined a support group and I wasn’t sure what to expect. The overall rationale is that as fellow sufferers, we can say things to each other that only we can understand or appreciate. Now, after four or five meetings, we’ve exchanged our cancer stories and added some personal information. The social workers, who monitor the meetings, occasionally pipe in with an observation or two. I’m not sure what their role is; whether it’s to guide our chat in a certain direction, to summarize what we’ve talked about in order to draw conclusions or if they are just there to lend an air of officialdom to the proceedings. Some bonding should be taking place and indeed some of the women have formed friendships ‘after hours’, but at the last meeting I had an acute feeling that, as a group, we really didn’t have that much to talk about.
Unfortunately, I know enough women with whom I can discuss the different angles of our cancer and even those friends who have not personally experienced the disease are there for me to offload an angst or two. Add to that the fact that I don’t get home until after 10.30, I have good enough reasons to consider resigning.
Seventh Sense
The medical establishment is my first line of defense in my personal war against cancer, but once that's covered, I'm open to anything that alternative treatment has to offer, even if on the face of it, it sounds outlandish. I would hate to find myself in a position where I failed to avail myself of some remedy only to discover too late that it was key to a complete recovery.
Some weeks ago, a colleague told me how a woman called Sigalit, using a method taught to her by a cardiologist who’d gone looking for the soul, had helped her, so I made an appointment.
Dr. Nader Butto is a cardiologist at the Rabin Center. He has “...developed an energetic method that tracks down emotional conflict (and its state) which has caused the energetic block and that has eventually evolved as a physical illness. This unique method opens the energetic block and washes the body with a flow of life, energy, and vitality.” (See a demo.)
Sigalit began by examining the palm of my right hand and asking me what had happened eight years ago. My mother had died eight years ago amid circumstances that still cause me feelings of guilt, not least because the opportunity to have been a better daughter to her is forever gone. Sigalit also noted that I had undergone an emotional experience five years ago, although under happier circumstances with the birth of my first grandchild. She told me that the turmoil of my mother’s death had been the trigger for the cancer, which, based on the number of documented cases of cancer which appear to have been accelerated by a profoundly emotional experience, seems a reasonable assumption
Treatment consisted of me lying down with legs bent and slightly apart. I was to inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. Sigalit dug her fingers deep into my diaphragm which was extremely painful. Apparently, this is the location of fear and she waited to hear the click which would indicate that fear had flown my body. She pressed her hands at points above my breasts, which was also quite painful, and circled her hands over my head. Occasionally, she gently slapped my legs, which should have been shaking uncontrollably by now, but were hardly quivering. At a certain point, she suggested calling it a day and told me she wouldn’t take any money. But I was determined to get as much out of this as possible so we both strove valiantly on.
However, apart from a small flutter, my legs remained obdurately steady, although they were getting extremely uncomfortable being held in a somewhat unnatural position. At the end of the session, we acknowledged that nothing of any significance had taken place, that my fear remained invulnerable to exile. Sigalit gave me a few exercises to do which would open some chakras and a book called Cancer as a Turning Point by Lawrence LeShan. The book is excellent.
Some weeks ago, a colleague told me how a woman called Sigalit, using a method taught to her by a cardiologist who’d gone looking for the soul, had helped her, so I made an appointment.
Dr. Nader Butto is a cardiologist at the Rabin Center. He has “...developed an energetic method that tracks down emotional conflict (and its state) which has caused the energetic block and that has eventually evolved as a physical illness. This unique method opens the energetic block and washes the body with a flow of life, energy, and vitality.” (See a demo.)
Sigalit began by examining the palm of my right hand and asking me what had happened eight years ago. My mother had died eight years ago amid circumstances that still cause me feelings of guilt, not least because the opportunity to have been a better daughter to her is forever gone. Sigalit also noted that I had undergone an emotional experience five years ago, although under happier circumstances with the birth of my first grandchild. She told me that the turmoil of my mother’s death had been the trigger for the cancer, which, based on the number of documented cases of cancer which appear to have been accelerated by a profoundly emotional experience, seems a reasonable assumption
Treatment consisted of me lying down with legs bent and slightly apart. I was to inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. Sigalit dug her fingers deep into my diaphragm which was extremely painful. Apparently, this is the location of fear and she waited to hear the click which would indicate that fear had flown my body. She pressed her hands at points above my breasts, which was also quite painful, and circled her hands over my head. Occasionally, she gently slapped my legs, which should have been shaking uncontrollably by now, but were hardly quivering. At a certain point, she suggested calling it a day and told me she wouldn’t take any money. But I was determined to get as much out of this as possible so we both strove valiantly on.
However, apart from a small flutter, my legs remained obdurately steady, although they were getting extremely uncomfortable being held in a somewhat unnatural position. At the end of the session, we acknowledged that nothing of any significance had taken place, that my fear remained invulnerable to exile. Sigalit gave me a few exercises to do which would open some chakras and a book called Cancer as a Turning Point by Lawrence LeShan. The book is excellent.
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