Fatigue might be the most common complaint among those with a serious illness. The fatigue resulting from chemotherapy and radiation is not the kind that can be alleviated by a good night's sleep. I wish I had a magic potion or pill that would pep you up and allow you to enjoy daily activities. While waiting for that invention you might try my suggestions to BEAT fatigue.
1. Breathe-- Deep cleansing breaths are invigorating. If you are able, try yoga or pilates--even if you are unable to do all of the movements you can do the deep breathing.
2. Eat some protein. The carbohydrates you crave will give you a temporary high
followed by a crash, but protein gives you sustained energy
3. Ask for help. When you don’t have the energy to get out with people, pick up the phone, call a friend, and ask for prayer.
4. Take Ten. Sit on your porch in the sunshine for ten minutes or better yet walk around your house, cove, or down the block. This provides a double whammy—fresh air and Vitamin D.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Share your Burden
I must admit that I am having difficulty blogging about cancer. It seems to me that I have said everything there is to say and that you all must be as sick of hearing about cancer as I am of talking about it.
Yet I realize that with the book sales and media publicity, we are reaching a different audience--people who are newly diagnosed and looking to us for encouragement and direction. They are in the middle of a raging sea and I want to help them stay afloat.
Therefore,I will try to blog more regularly even if the subject isn't cancer related.
Today's advice for the those starting out on the journey--join a support group. If your loved one is too ill to attend, go alone. Sharing your burden will lighten your load. I love Matthew 11:28,30. "Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." But sometimes it helps to talk to "someone with skin" as my three-year-old grandson once said. Paradoxically, the times when you feel least like reaching out are the times you most need to.
I know there aren't many faith based support groups [www.faithsupportgroup.com] but most major cancer centers offer support of some kind. Contact me and I might be able to make some suggestions.
Yet I realize that with the book sales and media publicity, we are reaching a different audience--people who are newly diagnosed and looking to us for encouragement and direction. They are in the middle of a raging sea and I want to help them stay afloat.
Therefore,I will try to blog more regularly even if the subject isn't cancer related.
Today's advice for the those starting out on the journey--join a support group. If your loved one is too ill to attend, go alone. Sharing your burden will lighten your load. I love Matthew 11:28,30. "Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." But sometimes it helps to talk to "someone with skin" as my three-year-old grandson once said. Paradoxically, the times when you feel least like reaching out are the times you most need to.
I know there aren't many faith based support groups [www.faithsupportgroup.com] but most major cancer centers offer support of some kind. Contact me and I might be able to make some suggestions.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Cancer's Shadow Lifted
In 2002, two small words changed our lives. "It's cancer." In 2010, two small words changed our lives again. "cancer free"
I didn't realize how accustomed I had become to living under cancer's shadow, until the cloud lifted and the light returned. For seven years, we didn't plan anything without considering Jim's health status. We couldn't make short range plans because we weren't sure how he might feel. We couldn't make long range plans because we weren't sure he'd be alive.
Now that he is no longer in treatment we aren't bound to the chemo schedule or tethered to the infusion pump. We are back among the living!
And yet, some things remain the same. Thankfully. The cancer school room taught me that none of us--however healthy we might be--can know what the future holds. Life is short, health is fleeting, and this morning's sunrise might be our last.
Cancer may not be finished with us, but for today, it is gone. And that's enough. THIS is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
I didn't realize how accustomed I had become to living under cancer's shadow, until the cloud lifted and the light returned. For seven years, we didn't plan anything without considering Jim's health status. We couldn't make short range plans because we weren't sure how he might feel. We couldn't make long range plans because we weren't sure he'd be alive.
Now that he is no longer in treatment we aren't bound to the chemo schedule or tethered to the infusion pump. We are back among the living!
And yet, some things remain the same. Thankfully. The cancer school room taught me that none of us--however healthy we might be--can know what the future holds. Life is short, health is fleeting, and this morning's sunrise might be our last.
Cancer may not be finished with us, but for today, it is gone. And that's enough. THIS is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
A Divine Appointment
We were in the shuttle on the way to our appointment with the oncologist. Because we had to wait ten minutes for the hotel shuttle to arrive we were barely going to make it on time. Another couple flagged down the car as we were about to pull away.
“Oh-oh,” I thought. “We are never going to make it.”
“Do you mind getting in the far back?” the driver asked, as Jim got out to offer the lady the middle seat. The man climbed in back with Jim. “We’re going to the pulmonary pavilion at MD Anderson,” the woman said to the driver, as she climbed in next to me.
“Are you going for treatment?” I asked after introducing myself. “This is our first time here,” she explained. “I was diagnosed with lung cancer in December.”
“My husband has lung cancer,” I told her. “We’ve been coming to Houston now for seven years. I know how scary it can be at first, but it gets better.”
She started to cry. “Six weeks before the doctors told me about the lung cancer, my husband was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig Disease. Then the lung cancer. The doctor said it is in both lungs and inoperable. That is why we came here for a second opinion.”
Talk about a double whammy. Two terminal diagnoses within two months. We told them about Jim’s grim prognosis and the miracles we had experienced. They gave us their e-mail and we added them to our f.a.i.t.H. list.
I well remember those first days when we prayed to meet someone who would lift our spirits, listen to our story, or just give us a loving pat on the shoulder. Someone who could say, “You are going to be OK. You’re not alone.”
We watched as they walked into the building, holding hands, hopeful that MD Anderson could give them at least one miracle.
“Oh-oh,” I thought. “We are never going to make it.”
“Do you mind getting in the far back?” the driver asked, as Jim got out to offer the lady the middle seat. The man climbed in back with Jim. “We’re going to the pulmonary pavilion at MD Anderson,” the woman said to the driver, as she climbed in next to me.
“Are you going for treatment?” I asked after introducing myself. “This is our first time here,” she explained. “I was diagnosed with lung cancer in December.”
“My husband has lung cancer,” I told her. “We’ve been coming to Houston now for seven years. I know how scary it can be at first, but it gets better.”
She started to cry. “Six weeks before the doctors told me about the lung cancer, my husband was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig Disease. Then the lung cancer. The doctor said it is in both lungs and inoperable. That is why we came here for a second opinion.”
Talk about a double whammy. Two terminal diagnoses within two months. We told them about Jim’s grim prognosis and the miracles we had experienced. They gave us their e-mail and we added them to our f.a.i.t.H. list.
I well remember those first days when we prayed to meet someone who would lift our spirits, listen to our story, or just give us a loving pat on the shoulder. Someone who could say, “You are going to be OK. You’re not alone.”
We watched as they walked into the building, holding hands, hopeful that MD Anderson could give them at least one miracle.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
A Modern Miracle
I don’t know what to say. After seven years of ups and downs, seven years of living with cancer and all that goes with it, Jim is cancer free. The giant has left the house.
In October the oncologist told us there was no sign of the cancer in the bone or the malignant pleural effusion that we have been treating since March of ’09. He called it a miracle saying that there was no medical explanation for the absence of the malignancies. But somehow I couldn’t grasp the magnificence of the news. This time it was different. I got it. I want to shout the good news from the rooftops and sing praises to His glory.
Dr. Rios is not quite sure where we will go from here. He has a “gut feeling” that what Jim needs now is rest and a rebuilding of his immune system. There are some new drugs designed for this very purpose that he wants to research. Jim’s body has taken a beating over the years from the aggressive, toxic chemotherapies, the radiotherapies, and the surgeries. He wants us to undergo some testing (can be done in Memphis) to determine the status of the immune system, assess the collateral damage that has been done, and build from there. He will let us know in a few weeks how to proceed. But NO MORE CHEMO, no more planning around treatments and scans—although I’m sure scans will still be part of our lives, I’m not worrying about it tonight.
There is more to the incredible story—people we met today and yesterday just starting down the road we’ve been traveling, the responses of our physicians, people who have read the book and been encouraged. I will have to write another book for those who don’t know how the story ends. Our cup is overflowing and I can’t wait to tell anyone who will listen about the faithful, loving God we serve.
“Now unto him that is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us,
Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus through all ages, world without end. Amen.”
In October the oncologist told us there was no sign of the cancer in the bone or the malignant pleural effusion that we have been treating since March of ’09. He called it a miracle saying that there was no medical explanation for the absence of the malignancies. But somehow I couldn’t grasp the magnificence of the news. This time it was different. I got it. I want to shout the good news from the rooftops and sing praises to His glory.
Dr. Rios is not quite sure where we will go from here. He has a “gut feeling” that what Jim needs now is rest and a rebuilding of his immune system. There are some new drugs designed for this very purpose that he wants to research. Jim’s body has taken a beating over the years from the aggressive, toxic chemotherapies, the radiotherapies, and the surgeries. He wants us to undergo some testing (can be done in Memphis) to determine the status of the immune system, assess the collateral damage that has been done, and build from there. He will let us know in a few weeks how to proceed. But NO MORE CHEMO, no more planning around treatments and scans—although I’m sure scans will still be part of our lives, I’m not worrying about it tonight.
There is more to the incredible story—people we met today and yesterday just starting down the road we’ve been traveling, the responses of our physicians, people who have read the book and been encouraged. I will have to write another book for those who don’t know how the story ends. Our cup is overflowing and I can’t wait to tell anyone who will listen about the faithful, loving God we serve.
“Now unto him that is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us,
Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus through all ages, world without end. Amen.”
Thursday, January 14, 2010
update on Jim
Just as well I didn't contact everyone sooner because the prayer requests have changed day by day for the past week. As you know Jim had chemo last Thursday. He also had an appointment with his oncologist at West Clinic the same day. Jim was concerned about a new development--a swelling and pain in his neck actually under the jaw. He has suffered with mouth sores since early summer resulting from one or another of the chemo drugs, but this was different. The Dr. told him that it was not a lymph node, which relieved us somewhat because that is always a fear. However the pain continued.
The chemo side-effects were as bad or maybe the worst yet. Certainly the duration was longer. He was in bed from Friday until Tuesday morning. On Tuesday, we made an appointment with our internist to see about the pain in the jaw area. Dr. Castellaw was quite concerned because the bone in the mouth was visible in 2 places. He then sent us to an ENT to determine whether this should be biopsied. In other words, he wanted to be sure it wasn't a metastasis or a new primary cancer.
The ENT said no biopsy necessary, once again relieving our minds, but not much help with the pain. She said the lump in the neck was a salivary gland, gave him a decadron shot which temporarily helped with inflammation, and made the pain more tolerable.
As the shot wore off the pain increased. Today he made an appointment with our trusted prosthodontist who recognized the severity of the problem and sent him immediately to the oral surgeon. By this time Jim was frustrated, frightened and in excruciating pain.
The oral surgeon confirmed that this is osteonecrosis (dead bone essentially) resulting from the Zometa Jim has taken monthly to treat the bone metastasis of the lung cancer. Osteonecrosis is very difficult to treat and there are several options but for us right now the most important consideration is treating the infection which is causing the pain.
Pray for:
1. relief from the pain (he is taking oxycodone).
2. healing from the infection (Augmentin)
3. that he will be able to eat soon
4. that he won't have to be under the care of an infectious disease specialist, hospitalized for IV antibiotics
We are grateful that the x-rays show the damage to in both areas of the jaw is less than expected, although if I understand it correctly, the Zometa has a long half-life ( stays in the system for years), continuing to do its good work and its bad. We are also thankful that his teeth aren't loose yet.
This is a very serious infection, doubly hard to treat because of the other chemotherapy drugs he is taking and his resulting compromised immune system. We will address the other problems later.
Under His wing,
cyndi
The chemo side-effects were as bad or maybe the worst yet. Certainly the duration was longer. He was in bed from Friday until Tuesday morning. On Tuesday, we made an appointment with our internist to see about the pain in the jaw area. Dr. Castellaw was quite concerned because the bone in the mouth was visible in 2 places. He then sent us to an ENT to determine whether this should be biopsied. In other words, he wanted to be sure it wasn't a metastasis or a new primary cancer.
The ENT said no biopsy necessary, once again relieving our minds, but not much help with the pain. She said the lump in the neck was a salivary gland, gave him a decadron shot which temporarily helped with inflammation, and made the pain more tolerable.
As the shot wore off the pain increased. Today he made an appointment with our trusted prosthodontist who recognized the severity of the problem and sent him immediately to the oral surgeon. By this time Jim was frustrated, frightened and in excruciating pain.
The oral surgeon confirmed that this is osteonecrosis (dead bone essentially) resulting from the Zometa Jim has taken monthly to treat the bone metastasis of the lung cancer. Osteonecrosis is very difficult to treat and there are several options but for us right now the most important consideration is treating the infection which is causing the pain.
Pray for:
1. relief from the pain (he is taking oxycodone).
2. healing from the infection (Augmentin)
3. that he will be able to eat soon
4. that he won't have to be under the care of an infectious disease specialist, hospitalized for IV antibiotics
We are grateful that the x-rays show the damage to in both areas of the jaw is less than expected, although if I understand it correctly, the Zometa has a long half-life ( stays in the system for years), continuing to do its good work and its bad. We are also thankful that his teeth aren't loose yet.
This is a very serious infection, doubly hard to treat because of the other chemotherapy drugs he is taking and his resulting compromised immune system. We will address the other problems later.
Under His wing,
cyndi
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