Choices in Treatment

Choices in Treatment

Some may believe that making a choice as far as cancer treatment is easy. Suffer for a little bit and live, right?

The difficult part is walking down the path that you have chosen and accepting the consequences, whether good or bad. No matter the decision–strictly allopathic medicine, natural remedies, or something in between–the results may be positive or negative, and often not even the most experienced doctor can predict survival.

And when it comes to long term treatment like anti-estrogen therapy, the choice may be a bit more complicated. For a friend, ten years of medication only added 3% to her survival rate, which was more than enough for her to begin the medicine. On the other hand, considering I had inflammatory breast cancer, a cancer that is much more aggressive and difficult to treat, anti-estrogen therapy added 30% to my survival rate.

So if I follow all of the advice from my doctors–all based on world-wide research–my possibility of living a full life is currently at 80%.

What is often not discussed is the pain associated with these medications. I have been on Anastrozole for a few months now, and the body-wide bone pain has begun to increase dramatically. This may be possibly due to the current stress in my life, or simply just the medication itself building up in my body. Needless to say,  the pain some days can be unbearable.

So in the latest visit with my oncologist, he encouraged me to try Letrozole. This might be a better medication for me in the long run, but it will put me back to square one as far as pain. My body will have to become used to the new medicine, which means more pain in the short term. And this could all turn out to be a fool’s errand, becoming an even worse experience and leading me back to Anastrozole.

Honestly, it would be easier to quit the medication totally.

Reading The Last Arrow by Erwin McManus, I found a passage that made me reconsider that possibility:

“Sometimes the only way to set people free from the past is to create a different future that gives those all around you the inspiration and hope to set their own past on fire.”

Or as a friend told me after my most recent diagnosis, “Perhaps you were not meant to learn something from your suffering. Maybe you were meant to teach others how to live through it.”

So pain will be my companion for awhile. Some days I will break from the exhaustion, but I will not quit. And perhaps my continually rising up after defeat, even in the midst of pain, will give others hope.

 

Now What?

Now What

With cancer treatment, you seem to be maneuvering through an obstacle course in the fog. Just when you scale one wall and begin to run again, you encounter a bunch of rocks that make you slow to a crawl. It’s sort of an endless cycle of doctors and medications and scans and side effects.

You’re often left wondering, “Now what?”

Having finished radiation, I began to recover strength, both of body and mind. After a bit of a break, I started the Tamoxifen. For a while, I experienced no side effects. I was sure I was going to get off scot-free. I congratulated myself on being one of the lucky ones.

“Not so fast,” life said.

The pain and fogginess began gradually. I thought at first that it was simply my body recovering from the radiation, or perhaps just a bit too much exercise. But the side effects only grew stronger each day, and I knew it was the anti-estrogen pill.

I’ve struggled to recall names and facts, or sometimes even form a coherent thought. And the pain is similar to when I was receiving the Neulasta shots. Pain that is constant and limiting, very similar to some of my worst days during chemotherapy.

I’ve found myself thinking, “What fresh hell is this?”

I now understand why women often say that anti-estrogen therapy changed their lives more than chemotherapy or even surgery. And I also know the desire to quit taking those darn pills.

I will be on Tamoxifen for three months, after which I will again meet with my oncologist and schedule a hysterectomy. After that surgery, however, I will begin taking another anti-estrogen medication, a medication regimen that will last for ten years.

It’s possible that the side effects may lessen as my body becomes used to the medication. However, I think it’s pretty certain that my body and my life will never be what it once was. Learning how to live with these changes is now my current challenge.

As Mike Foster says in Rescue Academy, we often let our pain define God. When your life becomes centered around medications and pain and doctor visits and scans and whatnot, it can seem like that’s all that’s left, a shell of a life that once was. But maybe we can turn it around, let God define the pain.

That’s what I’m trying to do at this point. Turn my view around and live.

Just a Totally Honest Post…

Totally Honest PostI have finished radiation treatment and have begun Tamoxifen, with a hysterectomy to follow in a few months.

Since beginning this drug, I just feel empty, discouraged, and have had trouble concentrating, among other things. And writing? That’s flown out the window and is now in the ether.

Luckily, I wrote an article for The Underbelly before all of this nonsense.

Please bear with me while I attempt to reassemble myself while on Tamoxifen. I feel like a bucket full of lego bricks that has been shaken violently.