Online Payday Loans Online Payday Loans

Cancer and media

You are currently browsing the archive for the Cancer and media category.

Synchronicity sometimes plays an important part in your life.  This week I was faced with what I thought was the most important decision I’ve had to make since I began my cancer treatment.  I’m on stage 4 terminal cancer, with, most likely, only a few months ahead of me.  I have to make a decision whether to spend those months fighting off the cancer with chemo, or doing palliative care, taking painkillers and steroids to keep me awake.  It was all very confusing, and I was blithering, worried, studying, speaking to people, and along came the earthquake and ensuing crises in Japan.

I feel connected to Japan, having been a Japanese Buddhist, and made several trips there.  But the kind of decision you have to make when you’re hanging from a building wondering what to do next made my cancer dilemma seem trivial. And now on the news today, they’re wondering what to do with the nuclear plants – this must be the kind of decision that’s worthy of people’s time and attention.  I can’t imagine what decision you have to make when you’re floating in the ocean on a piece of roof, or a tatami; and what kind of decision you have to make when you have to abandon your home, and know you may never see loved ones, loved possessions again – all that made you who you are.

I sit looking at my options, I’m so lucky to have options. I have options about my treatment, about who takes care of me, and much more important I have time to speak to my son and my grandchildren, time to meet with my friends and have quiet evenings.  I see the woman trying to understand how to feed her baby hard rice, because she has no alternative, and here I decide between full supermarkets, or restaurants.  How do you keep things in perspective?

Is it arrogant to compare my quandary with any of the problems faced by the Japanese people?  They don’t get many options, it all happened – is happening – so quickly.

I feel very strange writing about this but at the same time I feel compelled to say something.

Tags: , , , , , ,

My worst fear – cancer returns

I would like to say that I’ve spent the last few months in a stress-free remission, climbing mountains for charity, but anyone who has been through this will know I am lying.  Just because you are in a remission doesn’t mean you are not stressed, exhausted and plain old sick.

I list the stages I went through during my five months of remission.

Reality sucks – first stage

I wondered why I didn’t feel elated.  I should have been over the moon, plotting my next trip to the five star resorts, spend it now! Instead I was doing what I had been doing over the last year or more, that is I was comatose, nauseous, vomiting, bowel problems, the usual. The treatments were finished but the side effects lingered on. I kept telling my body the treatments were over but it wouldn’t listen.  I was still seeing my oncologist, Dr Spittle, who kept encouraging me to get out of bed and start moving around before I forgot how to walk.

Escape second stage

So doing my best to feel more positive, I signed up for a Pilates weekend at an expensive health resort.  I curmudgeoned the weekend away, and found it difficult to get to Pilates, much less do exercises.  I had a list of what I couldn’t do which included all the activities on offer, like hiking and aerobics, and I hated the food, and I growled at the other guests. My optimistic phase had become my over-optimistic phase and when I got home I went back to bed to rest up from my weekend.

Smart ass third stage

I spend hours looking for the next cure and futilely try to keep one step ahead of my oncologist.  This stage began thirteen years ago when my first cancer sprouted and will continue until my last breath, with diminishing returns and diminishing enthusiasm. I won’t go into the details of my findings but let’s just say the new cancer doesn’t conform to anything I came up with in my research, so trips to Japan and the leading medical centers of the world are cancelled.  I should have gone when I had the chance, now I couldn’t do the traveling. I need to go to the website ‘cancer to order’ and ask them to send cancer that allows for extensive travel.

Getting it before it gets you fourth stage

After five months I thought it was time to have fun.  My friend in Miami had air miles and a week off. This happened at the same time as the white truffle festival in Alba. It would be great to celebrate a weekend of gourmet food after months of nausea. It was a wonderful week for me, but I was tired and not my usual adventurous self. I had a feeling cancer was looming.

The final charge fifth stage

I decided to make a huge effort to be a superwoman. I kept up acupuncture, went to Pilates four times a week, and signed up at a place called Bowskill Clinic for physical therapy and serious training. Everything was going well for about a month, which is a long time in stage 4 cancer remission.

Maybe I was stretching my luck,  signing up for 20 sessions at Pilates.  Just as I was about to ask for heavier weights so I could have a macho moment, my right arm folded.  It couldn’t lift an ounce.  My teacher looked at me with pity.  I looked at my arm in amazement.  What happened?

By the time I got home I was in severe pain.  I figured I had broken my arm; but how?

This was the first time I had a physical problem that I didn’t immediately think was to do with cancer.  I took every medication I could find in my apartment and nothing worked, not even the codeine pills I had left over from one of my cancer operations.  Not even my Adval smuggled from USA.

Sixth stage no, seventh Cancer returns

How did I know cancer was back?  Even after months of remission and seeing my oncologist every week. Dr Spittle has the manner of a psychoanalyst. She always greets me brightly, dressed as if she was greeting a great dignity rather than a woebegone patient; ‘Dr Walker’ she says, beckoning me into her consulting room.  She felt the lump on my throat and immediately concluded that I needed a biopsy and of course her instinct was right.  The tests showed cancer.

I’m writing this waiting to go into see Dr Spittle and start my treatment. I’ve had my Pet/CT scan and MRI. Cancer is back with a vengeance.  Good news it hasn’t gone to my vital organs; bad news the cancer can now be seen: lumps on my neck, bumps on my chest and a lifeless right arm. Cancer ought to at least stay out of sight.

I can think of many things to write about and will try to keep on to ‘restore sanity’.  This feels like a sequel;  ’The Revenge of the Cell”.  There will be more to come.

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I woke up one morning and discovered via the leading newspapers that the FDA is withdrawing the cancer drug Avastin, the main focus of my cancer treatment.  It seems that women with stage 1V breast cancer do not live long after taking the drug and may die of its side effects.  Oh my god I thought, I must be dead.

I went immediately to my calendar to count the months between my last treatment and now.  I had finished treatment with Avastin and parataxal on the fifteenth of April and now it was five months later, I had just passed my live by date.  The news reported that I had six more months to live at best.  I’ve had Avastin and Paclitaxel together and according to the report my last few months have been easier but my life span has not been increased.

I must be having terrible side effects … or so it said in the news.  In actual fact, I feel better all the time, and most of my lasting side effects come from surgeries.  Although I still have a tiny bit of cancer, it is inactive.  Embarrassed by not living up to the newspaper statistics, I didn’t know where to put myself: was I dead, dying, or suffering silent but deathly side effects?

The FDA decided against Avestin as a treatment for Stage 1V breast cancer because it does not extend your life expectancy or add to your quality of life.  OK I understand that – officially I am dead or soon to be dead, and my improved life quality is imaginary.

So what about the 17,000 American women who are being treated at this very moment with Avastin and have just heard the news that it was being withdrawn?  The reason for this was supposedly nothing to do with the cost or politics.  Right, we all believe that, don’t we?

The last people we should feel sorry for are Roche, the drug company who lost a significant amount of money off their shares. But the point is that according to our congressmen their decisions have nothing to do with the cost of the drug, only its efficiency.  PLEASE  – the media has made sure that everyone knows that Avastin is expensive;  Congress would have to be idiots to disregard this information.  But of course politics doesn’t come in to it.  OH NO?

When have I ever asked the government of the USA (where I was born) or the UK (where I now live) what drug I should take?  I get led all over the planet by media proposing cancer cures but the government now wants to have its say. I think if my medical treatment is left to this cumbersome bureaucracy I should take an overdose and be done with it. Reading the scope of responsibility for the Federal Drug Administration described in wikipedia is enough to make you shudder.

The argument pro the FDA decision to withdraw the drug says that patients (women) are desperate to do anything to save them from dying from breast cancer.  They would even have the government pay – or self pay – for treatment that extends life for a couple of months.  OH MY we are naughty, naughty women.

Since American women may now have to pay for their own Avastin, they will have to ask themselves if a few months of life is worth it.  I think about how much my illness has cost, and I wonder.  It is a horrible question to have to ask yourself, and it is a question only answered in TV – Hollywood fiction land.  ‘She was alive to see her daughter married.’   Whether you should take the drug or not is as difficult to answer as ‘What is life?’ or ‘What happens when we die?’.  All the medical ethics courses in the world can’t answer that question for us, nor can a government committee.

Just as I was made certain that death was inevitable; and then, guess what?

Reuters:  WASHINGTON – The U.S. Food and Drug Administration Friday (Sept 17) delayed a decision involving the use of Roche Holding AG (RHHBY, ROG.VX)’s top-selling cancer drug Avastin in advanced breast cancer.

Roche’s Genentech unit, which sells Avastin in the U.S., said the drug’s review was extended by three months to Dec. 17. The company said it submitted additional information to the agency, but wouldn’t provide details.  The FDA usually follows the advice of its panels of nonmedical experts, but isn’t required to do so.

Since the July panel decision, the FDA has been bombarded with letters and petitions from women, some congressional lawmakers, and groups such as Susan G. Komen for the Cure and the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance. In a recent letter to the FDA, the cancer groups urged the agency to allow use of Avastin for breast cancer because the drug has been shown to work well in some patients.

OK I get it, I may not be dead yet.  I have got to the point where I am uncomfortable in purgatory.  PLEASE let them make up their minds.  Thank goodness my oncologist the renowned Dr Margaret Spittle doesn’t have to consult a committee every time she makes a decision about my care.

Meanwhile, let’s consider the financial aspect.

The Avastin (which no doubt put my cancer on hold) was according to the FDA a waste of money.

Readers of my blog, Cancer Curmudgeon, know I fantasize about going around the world on a jet plane.  It only takes a month and without any drugs at all I might have still lived that month. Avastin is probably at least a contributing reason I am still alive and my insurance company wisely covered this medication; but they will not cover the next part of my plan, the travelling.

Darn! I could have saved someone some money.

Tags: , , , ,

Linney with hair and bursting with positive attitude

I’ve just watched the first episode of ‘The big C’ – a blockbuster series run by Showtime about cancer. It’s clearly written by people who’ve never had terminal cancer or they wouldn’t be around to write the script.

If it was meant to be funny I didn’t get the joke. I think Americans are funniest when in British terms they ‘take the piss’ out of trying to be funny.

It’s about a woman, played by US star Laura Linney, who dominates every scene.  It’s in part a beauty and the beast, story.  She is beautiful and her husband is the ugliest, least appealing spouse I’ve ever seen on a series. OK, she threw him out, but she touches him during the program which makes me cringe.  The most believable moment is the description of him pissing on the lawn drunk and playing video games with his friends.

Her son, beast two, is the quintessential spoiled brat who adds to our stereotype of US children.  He thinks it’s funny to pretend to cut off his finger when chopping a carrot.  Since he does little else to help out, it’s unrealistic that he would help out with lunch.

Beast three is her brother who eats from trash cans to save the planet.

In the meantime, a handsome young doctor has diagnosed our star with melanoma.

Just like doctors do (sic) he takes her out to lunch and tells her she is the first patient he has told that has cancer.

OK, this is a little unreal, but it’s Hollywood and we know reality stops at their border.  But it is supposed to be about the humorous side of cancer.  Is this funny?

1.         She tells no one about her cancer.

2.          She refuses treatment

3.         She builds an illegal pool in her backyard. It has to be finished immediately because she will be dead soon.

4.         She begins to tell people exactly what she thinks about them.

5.          Her major reason for refusing chemo is her love of her long hair.

6.          For some reason, she feels inclined to show people her beautiful breast. Perhaps the breast cancer has yet to be revealed.

After 13 years with cancer (on and off) I’ve had those tell no-one moments.  They last a few seconds and then it all blurts out.  I don’t mean to generalize but the chemo day centre is not full of patients with tape over their mouths and the large number of cancer blogs around indicates the opposite of silent victims.

I have a few friends who refused treatment. Most of them did it at a late stage when they’ve simply had enough.  Without being flippant, when you refuse treatment, death follows.  A few slip through – possibly due to a faulty diagnosis – but more die without treatment than with it.  Most of us with children, at whatever stage of life, or however bratty we have become, do not want to die.

Saving your hair is not a primary reason for refusing chemo.  Women are not happy about it but give us a break we are not that narcissistic.  Men are feckless; women self-absorbed; children spoiled brats.  Maybe no treatment is a smart way out.

Telling people off in a sarcastic nasty way is probably not the best card to play when you are first diagnosed.  ‘The Big C’ and Laura Linney will find that they need all the friends they can get, even the fat, flippant ones.

I’m on my way back to London now, without access to ‘The Big C’.  I will miss it, my hour to snigger.

Tags: , , ,