carcinista's Cancer Blog

March 16, 2010

Don’t hate me because I’m in good shape.

When I was younger, I was a sloth. My mom signed me up for gymnastics classes, diving classes, riding lessons, the local swim team. I didn’t last long in any of them. The problem was, they all involved exercise and effort. I was much more of a sit-down-and-read-a-book kind of girl. Because sports were mandatory at my school, I volunteered to be the goalie for both field hockey and lacrosse, if the coach would let me get out of running laps with the rest of the team. (Hey, if I could stand in one place for the whole game, why did I have to get in shape?) I was even voted “Class Couch Potato” in my senior yearbook.

Then, when I was 21, I met this guy. He never sat still. Rollerblading, cycling, running, hiking, sightseeing… if I wanted to spend time with him, I had to get up. But still it took an engagement ring before I really got serious about working out. (Holy crap, a wedding gown? I better get my rear in gear.)

Fast-forward to the birth of my first son. All of a sudden, working out became a treat (sort of), a ninety-minute period of alone time when I was responsible for no one but myself. And, as any mother, stay-at-home or otherwise, can tell you, we don’t even get that in the loo. If I had to exercise for some peace by myself, I’d do it. (Never mind that it had to be at 5:30 a.m.; that just gave me the excuse to nap when the baby napped.) It turns out I am vainer than I am lazy.

Fast-forward again to my life P.C. (post-cancer). When I recovered from my first surgery, I realized that without all those tumors inside me, I felt better than I had in at least a year. Possibly since before I had had kids. So I kept working out. And during the IP chemo, which I was told came with “crushing fatigue” (boy, did it ever), I kept working out. Some days just a lurch down to the bottom of the hill and back, but I got moving. It helped me to feel in control of my body, in control of my life, in a disease process that is totally out of the patient’s hands in so many ways. It gave me time to think things through while I staggered, and make some personal decisions without interruption. I’m convinced that having a pretty high percentage of muscle mass helped me come through the six rounds of IP cisplatin as strongly as I did.

Once chemo is over, every time, and I start crawling out of the pit, exercise helps me feel like a normal person (at least until I catch sight of my squishy, pale, bald self in the weight room mirror). It helps me get my energy back sooner than I would have just waiting inside my house. It helps me get rid of the carbo-belt that develops around the waistband of chemo patients, thanks to the fabulous anti-emetics available nowadays and the raging cells looking for sugar.

Today, I found a study that shows how cancer patients that get regular exercise have more vigor and less emotional distress than cancer patients who don’t. (Sign up for a free MedScape.com account to read it – they have great articles.) Which I probably could have told you without the grants and the patients and all that time, but now we have proof.

So my advice for cancer patients: GET UP. Lurch down the hallway and back again. Once you can do that five times, add some stairs. Go for a swim. Walk the dog. Go down to the end of the driveway and get the mail. Once you finish chemo, treat yourself to a gym membership or a daily walk with a friend, and keep moving. The oxygen will help your body recover; the muscles will burn off the spare tire, and the companionship will keep you coming back.

Look, I love an afternoon in a comfy armchair with the cat and a good book as much (and probably more) than the next girl. But it isn’t going to prolong my life the way being in shape will.

Besides, the chair and the cat will still be there in an hour.

Posted on March 16, 2010 at 6:59:06 PM by Sarah ( Get Up Offa That Thing: Exercise Helps Cancer Patients!, 1 comment)

March 11, 2010

A friend posted an article today about how most Americans think God gets involved in what happens in their daily lives. One in three of the surveyed respondents agreed with the statement that “’There is no point in planning a lot because ultimately my fate is in God’s hands.’” Once I’d recovered from my initial shock at the statistics, I read some of the comments at the bottom. Which proved to me that: a) NYT.com readers are either cynics, or liberals, or both; and b) the pollsters whose data is represented in this article were not asking questions in Manhattan.

I also started down the long path I’ve been on a few other times since 2006, about where my religious flag should be planted. Raised in the Protestant tradition but with an overarching sense of scientific skepticism, I did the whole Sunday School thing, and even confirmation and Youth Group through high school, but more to meet boys (yet another bonus of single-sex education) than for any church-y stuff, which made me more than a bit uncomfortable.

There’s probably nothing that’ll get you thinking about God quicker than a serious illness. Not so much when I was first diagnosed, but definitely when I found out about my first recurrence; I was making deals with God (or whoever) like Monty Hall on speed. Just one more month and I’ll never ask for anything else. Just one more year with my kids and I’ll never complain again. Just let me see them into middle school and I promise I’ll enjoy even the crappy weather. Just let me make fun of them at their rehearsal dinners and I promise I’ll go quietly. But I wasn’t really sure who I was petitioning.

And I can’t really tell you that I believe my bargaining worked. I get surgery from one of the best gyn/oncs in the Northeast, and I get medical and chemical treatment from one of the top cancer centers anywhere. Do I think God guided me to live in Boston? Um, no, that was a cute guy with a great smile. Do I think there’s some mystical, divine force behind my getting sick in the first place? Wow, I hope not. Lord knows (sorry) I don’t think that whole “You only get given what you can handle” thing holds any water, because there are people who get sick who can’t handle it. They’re also deceased. And I don’t think it’s fair to those of us who pull ourselves out of bed by our wigs every day and march onward, for our families, our kids, our sanity, to say it’s all in God’s hands. That’s selling us a little short.

This summer I had a long conversation with the Reverend who is the head of the church I got married in; I wanted to put a more adult spin on my views than my previous what-I-think-about-God chats, which were brief, giggly, and in the ‘80s. Maybe I was looking for proof (I know, that’s not what happens – that’s why they call it “faith”), or an explanation of how this stuff can happen, or validation that it’s okay to be confused. The result of our hour-plus-long chat was…hmmm. He didn’t try to get me to make up my mind, which I appreciated. And he didn’t try to convince me that this was all part of some grand plan, which I appreciated even more. I’m certainly not any closer to understanding how some people can so blithely relinquish control of their fates and responsibility for their actions to a divine being that no one can ever prove exists.

So for now, I’ll continue to put my faith in the vanguard of western medicine, top-notch whole food, vigorous exercise, a healthy dose of laughter, and a good under-eye concealer. But if I make it to my kids’ rehearsal dinners, I hope I don’t have to go apologize to someone. Not a big fan of crow-burgers.

Posted on March 11, 2010 at 1:46:52 PM by Sarah ( 'Cause You Gotta Have Faith (?), 2 comments)

Sarah:

The God thing…that’s hard and I’ve been there also with no definitive answers. Bargaining has been constant. Let me see my girl out of high school, then maybe college, then through her first pregnancy etc. The time when we say, okay I’m ready really never comes cause there is always something.

What makes me stop cold with that is seeing the children at MD Anderson every week with cancer. Why do I think I’m so special to get the get out of cancer free card? I’ve had a good life so far.

Keep up the questions and the fight…it’s gotta turn out good for one of us here right?

Teresa

Posted on March 11, 2010 at 9:12:04 PM by tmay

“divine being whom no one can prove exists”....hmmm…every time I see a gorgeous sunrise, sunset, the vast oceans, mountain tops, animals of every different design and amusing characteristics, a newborn child, I am reminded of creation. These things could not have happened by chance. There is definitely a Divine Creator with an infinte sense of humor and creative genuis. So I think the quesstions to ask are not, “Is there a God?”, but who is this God, why was I born, what is my purpose in this life, and what happens when I die? We are all here for a purpose and we all obviously have free will. I think the clue is if we were placed here for a divine purpose, how do we tap into that. I believe there is even a purpose for our lives when we are hit with an illness, terminal or otherwise. What do we do with this? We are inherently born self-centered with our own selfish interests. Sometimes hardships come into our lives to help us look beyond ourselves. What can we contribute in this lifetime, even in the midst of our illnesses. The best person to ask these questions of is God Himself. He is not oblivious to our little meaningless lives down here. He created them. He has an abundant love for us. And He has an abundant life for us to live if we learn how to live for that which we were created. God does not force anyone to do anything….but He has much that He wants to give us. The most often quoted commandment in the Bible is “do not fear”. “Oh do not fear, for I am with you, do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10. If you have a Bible with a concordance, look up fear. God stresses again and again that He is our rock and our strength. Yet we don’t reach out to him. He is there for anyone and everyone. Just ask and He will give. It is good to ask those questions and to seek answers. Don’t give up so easily. He hears, He sees, He feels, He knows, He cares, He loves, and He wants you to join His family. God Bless. Gail

Posted on March 12, 2010 at 9:43:06 AM by Gail (unverified)