Wednesday, November 25, 2020

AsSeenBySusan

Life After Chemoradiation
On Becoming a Thriver


It's been two weeks since I had my last chemoradiation treatment for my anal cancer at St. Mary's Cancer Center in Walla Walla. I looked forward to the day like a child crossing off the days until Christmas. During that last radiation session, I  silently counted the three 60-second arcs of the machine while apparently keeping time with my right big toe. "Please keep still," a voice boomed into the room! I guess my excitement was hard to contain as I had never been similarly chastised before. 

Next, I received my certificate of completion and then rang the ceremonial gong at the front desk. Yay me! I had done it.



Outside my friends were waiting  to have a small yet socially distanced parking lot celebration. Included were my three trusty and loyal patient advocates -- Kathryn Barron, Jackie Scholl, and Suzanne Towery -- as well as the Conductor of my Meal Train, Carol J. Lee. And of course, my beloved partner and soulmate, Doug. Kind words and oceans of thanks were exchanged along with a few tears on my part, and then we went our separate ways. On to recovery.

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At my last appointment I was forewarned by my radiation oncologist that I may go through a period of depression in the early stages of recovery, not unlike post-partum depression. She also warned me that my physical symptoms may stay the same or perhaps get a bit worse as the chemoradiation stays in the body doing its magic for some weeks. But in time, I should begin to feel "better."

One of the misleading side effects of my kind of cancer and its treatment is that I really never showed outward symptoms that I was undergoing chemoradiation. Because I kept my full, bushy white head of hair, I never looked like a balding chemo patient. But little did people know that I was losing hair down below, which ultimately left me with a partial Brazilian, kind of a final parting gift. Ole'. I also timed my public appearances to when I was feeling secure in my bowels and could be on my best behavior. Only Doug got to see and hear the other me, moaning and screaming in pain as I tried to poop for the umpteenth time that day. I often felt like I was pooping multi-faceted diamonds when in reality it was only one or two, teeny tiny soft turds. 

Fortunately, I was given a product by my radiation oncologist that helped some with the excruciating anal pain due to radiation sores. It's a paste containing zinc oxide, calamine, menthol and other ingredients that I liberally applied several times a day to my anus. I also used Aquaphor liberally along the creases between my legs and abdomen. I have to say I was reminded yet again of my Big Ride Across America where I was one of several self-proclaimed "Slather Sisters" who liberally applied Bag Balm in the nether regions to prevent saddle sores and the like. Twenty-two years later, I was still slathering. 

And apparently, it worked because I was one of the fortunate ones not to experience extensive radiation burns across my abdomen and buttocks. Like a very bad sunburn, the skin blisters and then peels leaving large areas of open wounds that are painful and  ripe for infection. The only peeling I experienced was in the inner creases of my legs and in my butt crack, and that I only noticed in the first week of recovery. It was more of a nuisance than a pain so I  consider myself very lucky on that account.

Another on-going side effect is the deep aching of my tailbone extending outward across my buttocks.  No upright sitting position is comfortable for very long, with the way-back position in my lounge chair being the most tolerable. However, the  best place, since we don't have a sofa or couch is in bed on my left side. And then I go to sleep.

But the depression; it has really hit me hard. I frequently have to force myself to go swimming at the Y three days a week despite the overwhelming positive effects. It's only in the pool where the water envelopes my body that  I feel a freedom from the gravity on land that constantly pulls on my anus and groin. Plus, I feel an energized after-effect that lasts for several hours.  But then the blahs hit me again. Hard. My attention span is diminished so reading or trying to concentrate on a project is worthless. My body is fatigued and lethargic, so all the cleaning and organizing projects that have been left undone continue to stare me in the face and overwhelm any motivation I might have. Thank goodness for the Meal Train, or Doug and I would never eat. Even then, doing the dishes becomes a Herculean task some nights. 

I have been assured by other anal cancer thrivers that this feeling is perfectly normal, and it too shall pass. So I try to lean into it and be gentle on myself, which for me is not as easy as it sounds. Waiting has never been my strong suit. 

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But wait, there's more! Besides the more common side effects mentioned above, there is a host of other effects that anal cancer survivors commonly experience in the weeks, months and even years after the end of chemoradiation treatment. All are a result of a build up of scar tissue as a result of the radiation. As they say, radiation is the gift that keeps on giving. These effects include but are not limited to the following:
  • Bladder dysfunction
  • Bowel dysfunction
  • Chronic diarrhea
  • Hormonal changes
  • Vaginal stenosis
  • Anal stenosis
  • Lymphedema
  • Pelvic bone fragility
  • Hairline fractures and/or brittleness caused by the radiation
  • Long-term fatigue
  • Small bowel obstructions

With most of these side effects, it's a matter wait and see. There is little a person can do proactively to prevent any of them. But one thing I can do is Pelvic Floor Therapy. This specialized physical therapy can support the pelvic organs, assist in bowel and bladder control, and treat chronic pelvic pain. Who knew? And we're lucky enough to have such a specialist right here in Walla Walla at Providence St. Mary's Outpatient Rehab. My first appointment is scheduled for next week.

I'll also start vaginal dilation with my radiation oncologist with my next visit with her in December. This is the treatment for vaginal stenosis, a narrowing of the vaginal canal caused by a buildup of scar tissue.  A similar condition is anal stenosis. Both are treated with dilators which are medical grade, hypoallergenic silicone tube-shaped inserts that come in a set of increasing sizes.  Beginning with the smallest size, you insert a lubricated dilator and hold it there using pelvic floor muscles for 5-10 minutes. This isn't a sex toy; rather, it's painful therapy for the private, tender areas of the body that have been ravaged by radiation. 

The bottom line is that in order to kill the original cancer, other healthy body parts take a hit. I'm quickly discovering that the chemoradiation was the easy part. For me, the real work is now in recovery and healing. 



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Another important thing I have learned from this cancer journey is how little I knew about cancer. I still know next to nothing because my cancer is different from every other kind of cancer. And every person is unique and experiences his or her cancer in their own way. My objective in keeping this blog is to process all the information I have been learning about anal cancer. As my radiation oncologist said early on, I'm taking the condensed course in what took her and the radiation therapists years to learn. 

In writing about my experience, I am in no way diminishing the experience of every other cancer survivor who may read this. Rather, I speak from my experience only in an effort to understand and to teach. My heart and my admiration go out to each and every person who has suffered and survived this dreadful disease known as cancer.




 

Sunday, November 1, 2020

AsSeenBySusan

Life Is Like a Bicycle Ride

Weeks 3-4



Last century, in the late 1990s, I took up road cycling. My neighbor and teaching colleague, Ann Weatherill, had been doing long distance road cycling for years, and after questioning her sanity many times, the cycling bug bit me, and she became my inspiration and hero. I started out slowly, adding miles weekly, until that first summer I decided to try my first sponsored ride -- Walla Walla Wheatland Wheelers' 4,000 in 40. The ride began in Pioneer Park and went to the top of Tollgate Pass in Oregon, a distance of 40 miles with a climb of 4,000 vertical feet. Of course, then there was the ride back to Walla Walla which was all downhill, sort of. Suffice it to say, I eventually made it home on my own strength, tired and sore but feeling like a champion.

But what I learned on that ride about eating, hydrating and building strength and endurance by riding miles and miles every week served me well. In fact, by the following summer when I received a flyer in the mail to participate in the Big Ride Across America in the summer of 1998, I didn't think twice about signing up. This was just the challenge I needed.

For over a year I trained for the biggest physical challenge I had ever embarked upon. The ride was to begin in Seattle and end in Washington D.C., 47 days and 3,254 +/- miles later. During that training year, I also changed my eating style, added regular weight training to my schedule, and in the process lost 70 pounds. By June 1998 I was as ready as I could be.

My physical preparation served me well over those thousands of miles despite days of cold drenching rain, unrelenting sun, side winds that tipped my bike and head winds that made every pedal forward an extra effort. And snow! Yes, snow on a pass outside Helena, Montana. But there were also plenty of days with perfect temperatures, tail winds that pushed me along, and enough hills and flats to vary the terrain.

But the long hill climbs and mountain passes were what really tested my metal. Some days it was nothing but one long climb. So I quickly learned when that happened to recite this mantra: head down and keep pedaling. 

And therein was my epiphany that life is like a bicycle ride.

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Some days life brings me good weather and a tail wind. I am grateful. Other days, annoyances and inconveniences are like a headwind and make moving forward hard. It's then I remember to put my head down and put one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.

But then there are the major life challenges that drop me to my knees. Death. Divorce. A life threatening illness. These life events are like the mountain pass when it snowed and iced over the road. Or pedaling in the 100% humidity in western Pennsylvania when some angry passing motorist threw an empty glass bottle at my wheel. Or cycling the interminably long, flat concrete road into Billings, Montana and counting the bump-bumps every time my wheels went over the miles of seams. Head down, keep pedaling.

This anal cancer is now my biggest mental and emotional challenge of my life. While extremely painful at times, I can honestly say riding my bicycle cross-country remains my biggest physical challenge, followed by backpacking in 2005 for three days out of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to the Bearing Sea.

But I am not finished with my treatment, and I am told, it still can get worse. So far, however, I consider myself lucky. That said, I have no appetite at all, and my mouth tastes like cardboard. The BEST news is the meals from my Meal Train have provided Doug and me with hot, home-cooked meals filled with LOVE. Without them I'm afraid we would be on a rotation of Progresso Chicken and Rice soup, Frosted Flakes and Cream of Wheat. Bland and easy to digest. 

And the fatigue. All cancer patients know of this side effect which at times is overwhelming. But since exercise is so important during chemoradiation, I am trying to keep swimming. I missed last week because of bowel issues, but did go Saturday. It felt good. I'm signed up for three days this next week. Head down, keep pedaling.

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NOTE: The following may be TMI for some.


The hardest and most painful part for me has been elimination. With anal cancer, the radiation targets the anal canal, the anus, the perineum, with lower doses still hitting the vagina, the colon and the lymph nodes along the crotch. Radiation is like a severe sunburn, and as you can imagine, these nether regions rarely, if ever, see the light of day. So as they burn, they tend to blister, open and peel. I've been lucky, so far, to avoid that, but there's still a possibility. My pain, however, is at the anus as a result of new or old hemorrhoids that make eliminating a  painful challenge. (I was supposed to be rid of them as a result of a previous surgery, but that's another story.) I also have a constant nagging feeling of having to poop, called tenesmus. As a result, I am at the toilet 8-10 times a day.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rectal_tenesmus This makes making daily plans difficult because I don't know how long I have in between successful attempts. And if I do go out, I make sure I know the location of every public toilet. 

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If you happen to see me at the YMCA, you may be surprised that I look quite healthy. I still have a my full head of white hair, although it needs cutting, and since I'm not in pain, I physically look quite normal. You may notice, however, a slower pace some days and a bit of a mental fog (chemo brain is real), but all-in-all I'm hanging in there. And when and if it does get harder in the coming days/weeks, I'll simply put my head down and keep pedaling. Life is like that.