Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Don't Just Put On a Happy Face






"But they caught it early right?"

"…No, no they didn't."


"…No, no it's actually pretty bad."


Originally posted at:

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Hope vs. Acceptance: The Metastatic Cancer See-Saw


"Farmer, farmer, let me down!"

The other would respond,

"What will you give me, Charlie Brown?"



Yeah, acceptance.



Surgery is not an option.

There is no cure.

"Farmer, farmer, let me down!"


Stage 4. Metastatic. Terminal.

Fear that every ache could be progression.

Another friend lost to cancer.

"Farmer, farmer!"


… and I learn of a promising clinical trial.


And I am lifted back up, Charlie Brown.


Originally posted at:

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Cancer: the World's Worst Houseguest

You are sitting down to a nice dinner when you hear a knock on the door. That's strange, I wasn't expecting anyone. You open the door a crack to see who it is. He shoves the door all the way open and barges in.

It's Cancer, the World's Worst Houseguest.

He walks right past you and leaves muddy footprints all over your carpet. You are in shock. You didn't know there was any chance of him coming over. It was the last thing on your mind, but here he is, lounging on your couch like he owns the place. Who is this? What is he doing here?

Once the shock wears off, you try to talk to him. How long will he be staying? Why did he pick you? He just shrugs, rolls over and goes to sleep, snoring loudly.

You start to question yourself. If only you hadn't left the porch light on, maybe he would have gone right past your house. The neighbors whisper that you never should have bought that welcome mat. And the charming walkway lined with flowers just encouraged him.

The visit drags on and on. The days turn into weeks, and before you know it he has been there for months destroying your house and turning your life upside-down. You are exhausted because he wakes you up at all hours of the night. He walks around in slippers and thick socks, saying that your floors hurt his tender feet. He has puked on the carpet and clogged up the shower drain with his constantly shedding hair. He alternately eats everything in sight and complains that your food tastes weird. You notice that a few friends have stopped coming over, and you know that it is because they can't stand being around this guy. You can hardly blame them; you don't want him here either.

However, you also discover that you have an amazing community that offers to bring meals, help out around the house, and even drive your nasty houseguest all over town to his various appointments.

As time goes on, you meet other people who have experienced this terrible houseguest. Yeah, the same thing happened to me. He showed up totally unannounced and made me adjust my whole life to accommodate him. You discover that you now have membership in a club that no one wants to join, and soon you are swapping tips with others. When he kept complaining that my food tasted funny, I got rid of the metal cutlery and started serving it with plastic. He said it tasted much better! You find that together you can even laugh at his bizarre quirks.

After a while you start to get used to him hanging around, but you never forget that he is there. When you are feeling relaxed and happy, you hear him run to the bathroom. Your quiet book and cup of tea are interrupted by his hacking cough from the next room. He is always present.

Finally, after a seemingly endless string months, you kick him out of the house. You celebrate your freedom, but even then you find yourself checking the closets, peeking into dark shadows to see if he might be hiding somewhere. You think you hear him following you late at night. And every few months you get a message from him. He's considering stopping by again for a visit, but he's not sure. You peek out the window and think you catch a glimpse of him turning the corner.

One thing is certain: your life is never the same again after you receive a visit from the World's Worst Houseguest.

Originally posted at:

Tuesday, January 06, 2015

Dedicated to the Caregivers

Last night renewed my admiration for caregivers.

My husband and I were getting ready for bed when we heard a strange noise coming from our daughters' room. We ran downstairs and found one of the three-year-olds standing outside her room, mouth hanging open and making a horrible gagging, coughing sound. At first we thought she was throwing up, but then she kept trying to suck in air, and it almost sounded like she was choking. "Can you breathe?" She shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks.

My husband donned his superhero cape while I grabbed her coat and hat. He whisked her into the car. I scraped the ice off the windshield while he buckled her into the car seat. And they were off.

I stood there and watched them drive away, feeling totally helpless.

How do caregivers do this?!?

Her sister had woken up, so that snapped me back to my senses.

Okay. Focus.

Get her sister back to sleep.

Run through nightmare scenarios in my head.

Check on the kids.

Feel like throwing up.

Fold laundry.

Check on the kids again.

Stare at the clock.

Calculate how long it takes to get to the ER, check in, see a doctor.

Check my phone to see if I missed a message.

Check on the kids 1,000 times.

Sit down.

Stand up.

Scroll through adorable pictures of the kiddos.

Turn my phone buzzer to max.

Stare off into space.

Jump out of my skin when I get a text.

croup text message

It's just croup, she's going to be okay. They will be home in a few hours.

Finally exhale.




Find humidifier.

Clean out humidifier.

Reflect on how caregivers live in this space of terror, being responsible and powerless at the same time.

Feel humbled and amazed.

I've been living with stage 4 lung cancer for a year and a half now. My husband has watched me struggle to breathe, seen me puke my guts out, taken me to countless doctor's appointments, taken over cooking a meal mid-stir when I was too exhausted to go on, run from floor to floor of the hospital parking ramp looking for a wheelchair for me, all the while keeping our household running and parenting our three small children. I have no idea how he does it. In sickness and in heath, indeed.


To all the caregivers out there, all you unsung superheroes, my admiration for you is greater than ever. Watching someone you love struggle to breathe, battle side effects, and deal with endless pain is its own kind of torture. We patients go through this because we have no choice. You do it out of love.

That, my friends, is truly inspirational.

Originally posted at:

Superhero image courtesy of vectorolie at