Uncategorized

Bragg on Survivors

Rick Bragg is one of my favorite Southern writers. A Pulitzer Prize winner and former correspondent for the New York Times, Bragg owns one of the most memorable voices I’ve ever heard. Last month, I was reading Somebody Told Me, a collection of his newspaper stories, when I came across his definition of survivor. Although he’s not explicitly referring to breast cancer survivors (a phrase I’ve always disliked), his explanation of why he chose to use the word survivor instead of victim hit home with me:

At first I wanted to call this chapter “Victims,” but that cheapened the people I wrote about. I decided on “Survivors” because so many of the people herein were seized by an outside force, terrified or damaged, and let loose to try and live again. I like these people because of their backbone. I do not mind that some of them became haters. Some of them had a right.

Bugged out to Boston

At the beginning of January, Mary and I relocated to the Boston area for six months. The change of scenery has been a true gift. That’s a topic for another time…first, I feel like an explanation is in order. Maybe not a big one, but a little one would be nice. I’d like to pin my absence on sheer distraction. And, it’s true. I’ve been caught up in moving, settling in, and exploring an amazing new city. But a chunk of my being AWOL is the breast cancer fatigue that settled over me once I finished “active” treatment. (I don’t know if “active” is an official term or not, but I’m using it to refer to the outrageous stuff, like surgery, chemo, and radiation.) But then I realized that, by not writing about my “passive” treatment, I might be contributing to a common misconception about breast cancer —that treatment ends after the “big” stuff. Unfortunately not even close. Those aggressive, we-need-to-almost-kill-you-before-we-cure-you interventions are just the beginning. For 5 to 10 years post-diagnosis, the majority of us must swallow daily pills and/or receive monthly injections of anti-estrogenics, drugs that deprive our bodies of estrogen. (That’s because most breast cancers cells feed on estrogen and the goal is to starve the little buggers.) But these powerful anti-estrogens have huge repercussions, especially in pre-menopausal women. The list of common side effects includes joint pain, insomnia, fatigue, hot flashes and loss of libido. I’m not sure why I want people to understand that treatment goes on for years and years. Maybe because it’s just too depressing to see the mixture of relief and worry in people’s eyes when they look at me and say, “well, at least it’s over.” The one shitty thing I know for sure about cancer is that it’s not over ’til it’s over.

On Turning 40

I’ve been dreading this day for as long as I can remember. Three years ago, when Mary brought up the fact that I was closing in on the big 4-0, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, indignant that she would say such a hateful thing. But, after two years of arm wrestling with breast cancer, I can honestly say I’m thrilled to be turning 40. Cancer changed me, whether for better or worse is still to be seen. But it struck me recently when I heard someone say that aging is a privilege not a right. Today, I feel extremely privileged.

Spoke too soon

Oy, I finished radiation and immediately got walking pneumonia. I know…I’m the luckiest girl you know, right? Apparently radiation to the chest wall makes one more vulnerable to the lung crud. So I hacked myself silly for two weeks, during which time I barely crawled out of bed and had to bug out of some assignments. But, thank goodness, a round of antibiotics did the trick and I’m feeling MUCH better. My immune system needs some serious TLC, but I recovered just in time to go on a hiking trip with Mary and my family over Thanksgiving, so I’m grateful for small favors, as my grandmother used to say, “bigger ones solicited.”

A Day for Pancakes

Please forgive the silence on my blog these past few weeks. Sometimes the best way to get through cancer treatment is just to shut up and put up. So, that’s what I did. I’m happy to report that I just completed six weeks of radiation (28 treatments in all). This morning Mary took me out for cornmeal blueberry pancakes to celebrate. My energy is excellent. I’m back to writing and teaching yoga. And my hair is almost, well, hair (not fluff). Thanks for being patient with my process and for continuing to hold me in your thoughts.