Breast cancer is a gift for life. And death.

It’s October, which means it’s Pink Ribbon Month, Breast Cancer Awareness Month (for your national wesite, check out NO, UK, US). In Norway the focus this year has been on long-term effects of cancer treatment. Guess what – a large percentage of women who have undergone breast cancer treatment never return to the work force.

And guess what else? The number of cases are under-reported and most of these women feel shame because they are unable to return to the activity levels of their previous job & personal life.

The Norwegian Directorate of Health/Helsedirektoratet have made a nice report of potential long-term side effects which can be found here (downloadable pdf); it’s in Norwegian.

Not because they don’t want to, but because somewhere along the line, they got some unpleasant side effects that turned out to be irreversible. I’ve already mentioned CIPN. CIPN can actually appear up to two years after end of treatment, can appear in women who weren’t bothered by neuropathic pain during treatment, and can be completely debilitating.

F(l)atigue can also turn chronic. Fatigue sufferers often find themselves ridiculed as lazy. They often receive little or no understanding for lying on the couch or in bed all day.

If you’re one of those people who call fatigue sufferers lazy, please read my blogs about it again. And again. And again. Until you realise that no, we’re not lazy. We would feel like we’re dying inside except that requires thinking which again requires energy which WE DON’T HAVE.

I’m not even going to venture into the psychological hell that a (single/double) mastectomy can send any woman into. Or chronic alopecia. Me, I don’t care. It’s not the first time I’m a skinhead and I’m loving having an arsenal of wigs to play around with – but that’s me. Permanent baldness is still a taboo.

I almost forgot about chemo brain. It is an actual diagnosis, can start long before you actually have chemo, can last for years, and is a mental fog that just won’t let go.

“Doctors and researchers call chemo brain many things, such as cancer treatment-related cognitive impairment, cancer-therapy associated cognitive change, or post-chemotherapy cognitive impairment. Most define it as a decrease in mental “sharpness” – being unable to remember certain things and having trouble finishing tasks or learning new skills” (American Cancer Society)

If the tumour is hormone-sensitive and you get anti-hormonal treatment, menopause may set in prematurely. It’ll probably be worse than natural menopause (due to it happening much faster on drugs) and you probably won’t be allowed to get hormone treatment to lessen the symptoms. Even if the tumour isn’t hormone sensitive, you may experience early menopause.

Osteoporosis is also a common long-term effect but as it is a well-known effect, bone density is usually monitored.

These symptoms are diagnosible and are, at least medically, accepted as such. Docs may not know of any treatment that can help, but at least they can give you a black-on-white diagnosis to help with insurance and/or benefits.

But not all women get easy diagnoses. Some of them get a mixture. Light fatigue, enough to make looking after your grand kids a nightmare, not enough to make you connect the dots. Aches and pains all over the system. Complaining to friends and family doesn’t really help cos they think you’re lazy. You need to work out more, exercise more, get out more, it’s your own fault.

So you go for power walks four days a week and go to the gym four days a week and you just feel weaker, but everybody’s saying that you’re just lazy and need to up the ante, power walks seven days a week and the gym five days and you just feel more and more tired. Only thing is – aching muscles and joints is another long-term side effect, and no amount of exercise or bad-mouthing is going to fix it.

Oh, and make sure you have a good dentist and get a full check-up before treatment, during and after. Many women end up having to draw several teeth and that’s expensive if you can’t prove that it was due to chemo.

A common side effect of taxanes is having your nails loosen and fall off. Yes, that is a thing. They shrivel and fall off. They can keep falling off for at least a couple of years and it is as painful and uncomfortable as it sounds. The exact mechanisms are unknown, but using nail hardener and dark nail polish, just not on the part furthest down where the nail “breathes” may help. Or not. The problem with not knowing the mechanisms is that one can only assume that it helps – statistically, who knows. At least iut’s a good excuse to wear lots of fun nail polish!

After a mastectomy there’s also a really big chance that you will experience a lymphedema and/or reduced mobility in the shoulder/arm of the op. Physical therapy can help with the mobility issues – but some patients will never regain full mobility.

There’s also the probability that you’ll find a lump in your remaining, so-called healthy breast. It’s probably just a cyst or benign tumour, but you’ll most likely have to wait days or weeks to get it checked out – thousands of minutes in hell waiting to find out if it’s malignant or not.

If you’re unlucky enough that the tumour is in your left breast and you need radiation over your heart, you may be at risk of cardiovascular problems.

And there is a large risk of getting cancer again. Just cos you’re cancer-free doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way always. The meds may cause cervical cancer and/or endometriosis so annual pap smears and ultrasounds are a good idea. Radiation will make you more prone to skin cancer, so you’ll have to take extra care whilst sun-bathing and never ever use a tanning salon/solarium again.

Oncologists no longer say that you’re healthy even if they’ve removed every cancerous cell from your body. If you’ve had breast cancer, it’s a bit like being an alcoholic – you might not have touched a drop in 50 years, you’re still an alcoholic. You’re temporarily cancer free, and you will never feel safe from cancer ever again.

“Breast cancer can come back or metastasize (spread) in three general areas:

  • the breast area where the cancer was originally diagnosed; this is called local recurrence
  • the lymph nodes in the armpit or collarbone area near where the cancer was originally diagnosed; this is called regional recurrence
  • another part of the body such as the lungs, bones, or brain; rarely, the opposite breast; this is called metastatic or distant recurrence” (breastcancer.org)

25% of all women who have breast cancer will experience recurring cancer (cervical cancer or skin cancer as a nasty, long-term side effect aren’t “recurring” so those cases are in addition to the 25%). The good news is that we now have a lot of drugs and treatment regimes so even with metastatic spread, chances are quite good that you can live for many years with chronic cancer.

The bad news is that recurring cancer can appear many years after you were treated and labeled cancer-free.

The really bad news is that metastatic cancer can be difficult to catch, even with yearly check-ups, and the longer the cancer can spread, the greater the risk for it being terminal and not chronic.

Five year survival rate for primary breast cancer is 89% (Norway, 2006-10). The same rate for metastatic cancer is 20%.

So … early detection is important. Use the lemon chart and visit knowyourlemons.com as there is a lot of great info there. See your doc if you’re in doubt. Don’t think “It won’t happen to me” cos it can. Cancer doesn’t discriminate and it doesn’t matter how rich, smart, beautiful, funny, young or amazing you are – you still might get it.

 

The flat blog (cos flatlining would be over the top)

I tend to blog when I have energy. But now that I’m on chemo, there are more flat days and they take more space than before – so here’s the flat blog. Just in case you think I’m happy and energetic and out doing fun stuff all the time!

Second bout of chemo and it’s developing as expected. I spent most of treatment day in bed (cos going to the hospital and spending hours there fatigues me). Thursday and Friday weren’t bad – I’m thinking that the meds don’t really hit the system until day three.

Yesterday I was flat. Not Runaway pancake flat, just flat. No energy. No strength. No inspiration. But this was as expected (after the first bout) so I’d been smart and made arrangements to go mushroom hunting with a friend. Not because I expected to be re-energized, but because I wanted to see how far I could push my body even if I was flat!

We ended up with a really nice, three hour walk. Hunting means straying from the path more often than not so we walked about 2 km and I ended up with 8 kg mushrooms, she probably got twice that. That’s not a big haul in my world. When I was at my fittest I could pick 30-50 kg per trip, but that’s a few years ago – and I am most grateful to have dear friends who will accompany me on foraging trips and pick the foods I don’t have the energy to pick & clean!

Probably one of the smartest things I’ve bought this year. Pink, fluffy, soft, gigantic socks.

Got home and collapsed – slept for five hours. Watched a silly movie and slept for ten hours. Woke up and was void of energy. I’ve noted ‘flat’ in my calendar for the first weekend after chemo. I’ve tried to clean the mushrooms but only managed ten-fifteen minutes at a time. I’ve slept – and slept – and slept – and my feet are in pain. Neuropathic pain in the feet is expected, normal, and quite debilitating – it feels as if I’ve danced for a couple of weeks in flimsy high heels.

I’ve been wearing these fluffy pink socks to try to alleviate some of the pain. At least walking is slightly less painful but I’ve tried to keep my feet off the floor most of the day. And tomorrow will be worse. I asked the oncologist about my disco ball of pain and she told me “That’s a common side effect from the Neulasta, here, have some pain killers“. Preparing myself for pain day – I might actually take a sleeping pill to get through the day.

In the mean time I’m going to dream about my new, favourite boots from Demonia – wow! I’m in luuurrrrrrve!!! Wish list, people. Wish list. You know you want to see me in those.

First round of chemo – first round of side effects

You can read all you want about chemo, but every person’s experience is different so hope for the best, expect the worst, and you’ll find out what you end up with somewhere in the middle.

Most chemo meds require anti side effect meds as well. For my paclitaxel/taxotere I get dexamethasone, a synthetic corticosteroid (two doses before, four after) and one injection of Neulasta 24 hours after the chemo.

And although I’m still waiting for the side effects of my yew meds to set in – I have most certainly met those of my companion drugs.

Dexamethasone gives night sweats. Just as bad as the tamoxifen before I went off carbs. Swimming in sweat all night, waking up every hour or so, four nights of interrupted sleep. Now that autumn (and a chilly one at that) has set in, jumping between hot flashes and cold ones is not much fun – all through the day and night – and me being worried about getting an infection or a cold – not much fun.

But all things pass. Night sweats started on Tuesday evening and I got a good night’s sleep on Sunday. Thursday through Sunday gave me some pretty flat times – of the “I hope I make it to bed before I melt like an ice cube”.

Then comes Monday with slight rays of neuropathic pain in my lumbar region throughout the day. Not bad enough to knock me out, more of an annoyance. I much prefer constant pain – I can deal with that. These lightning bolts were completely different and they got worse as the day wore on.

I’m no stranger to pain. I can deal with constant pain (usually in bed with the duvet over my head) but this – this was really bad. It felt as if I had a disco ball in my lumbar that was sending out shards of painful lightning rather than fancy lights, and not only was the frequency increasing, the shards were getting longer and being sent down into my feet and up into my neck and shoulders and even got my tears going – and that’s a really bad sign. I took a couple of Celebra cos they’re the “nastiest” meds I have and figured that if this was how the next four months are going to be, I am staying under the duvet for the duration…

But the shards dulled slightly after a couple of hours, and although I was completely knackered at least I was able to sleep. No pain, no sweats, just blissful, dreamless sleep.

And Tuesday there was no disco ball.

I have to admit that I have been good and had naps most days – it’s not as if fatigue isn’t a natural part of my life – and I have been very happy that apart from these incidents, I’ve been pretty much side effect free. I have got chemo brain though (what’s new) so memory even worse than normal!

I probably jinxed it now – but we’ll see in a fortnight how things are developing…