Health

Opposite views of aging

/ edebock / 2 Comments

Logo by SamSince reading Breaking the Age Code and featuring it as my July Book of the Month, I’ve been doing what the author, Dr. Becca Levy, suggested and looking more closely at the messages that I see about aging in the media, in advertising, and on social media. While this topic is much broader than just fashion, I think it’s appropriate for a Friday post because so much of what we see about age is directed at women and their appearance. Take the article that I saw posted on Facebook recently for example. “40+ Short Haircut Tips and Styles That Make Us Look 20 Years Younger”  sounds innocent enough until you ask yourself, why should we want to look 20 years younger? What’s wrong with looking 40, 50, or even 80? The message is that young is good, young is beautiful, and old is not. 

Thankfully, there are positive messages to be found too. “72 is the new 30! Get fit at any age along with this 72 year old fitness star!” implores an ad for an online fitness program. Scientists claim that life expectancy has increased to such an extent that a 72-year-old person today has the same probability of dying as a 30-year-old primitive hunter-gatherer would have had. Hence the saying, 72 is the new 30. That’s good news, I think, but the real message of the ad is that at 72 we can still be active and physically fit.

In contrast, look at this meme taken from Facebook.

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What? We’re old and washed up at 50? Maybe this is supposed to be funny, but it’s exactly the kind of self-defeating, negative message about aging that Dr. Levy wrote about.

Instead, here’s the kind of message we should be seeing.

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This the the kind of age belief that can add years to your life and quality to your years. In the long run, you’ll probably look better than the gal who’s lying on the heating pad eating nachos too!

Progression

/ edebock / 6 Comments

As a neuroendocrine cancer (NETS) patient for the past ten years, stable became one of my favourite words. After each set of tests and scans, stable was the word that my doctors used to tell me that my cancer had not grown or spread. Unfortunately, when I saw my specialist on Friday, that was not what I heard. Instead, I heard the word progression.

In the cancer world, progression is the word that is used to describe growth or spread of the disease. It didn’t come as a shock to me. Over the past few months, we’ve been carefully watching test results that appeared to indicate that my tumours were likely becoming more active again. The news we heard on Friday was actually better than I feared. There has been a tiny bit of growth to a couple of tumours on my liver, but no spread anywhere else. That part is very good news!

Thankfully, I’m a cup half-full kind of person. I think I’d be a basket case by now if I wasn’t!

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So, what’s the good news in this? What happens next and what’s there to be optimistic or hopeful about?

After 126 monthly injections of a drug called Sandostatin, it would appear that it’s no longer doing its job and I’ll be switching to a different medication. Since Lanreotide is also given as an injection every 28 days there will be little change to the routine that we’ve become accustomed to over the years. There are, however, some real benefits to this medication.

Unlike Sandostatin which is know to suppress the production of the hormones that these tumours produce and thus reduce symptoms, Lanreotide is also known to actually delay their growth. Secondly, Novartis, the company that produces Sandostatin, cut out their in-home injection program over a year ago and I had to arrange for my family doctor to begin giving me my injections. Lanreotide is produced by Ipsen and I’ve been assured that once again, a nurse will begin visiting my home to administer my butt jabs. Not only is that more convenient for me, but it frees up my doctor’s time for other patients which is an important issue in a rural area where there’s a doctor shortage. Perhaps the most exciting part of all this for me, if there can be excitement in receiving news of progression, is the fact that hubby and/or I can be taught to administer the Lanreotide injections ourselves! Why is that exciting, you ask? Why would I want to poke myself if a visiting nurse could do it for me? For someone who loves to travel, as I do, the idea that I might be able to pack my medication and leave the country for more than 28 days at a time is actually quite exhilarating!

I’m already somewhat familiar with the new drug because many people in my online patient groups are on it and seem to tolerate it well. Hopefully I will too. I’ll have tests and scans again in late October to see if it’s having the desired effect. In the meantime, it’s summer in Alberta. There’s camping, hiking, and kayaking to be done and golf to play. In spite of the change from stable to progression, I still feel 100% and I’m determined to keep on living life to the fullest.

Living my cancer life out loud

/ edebock / 6 Comments

This post was inspired by an interesting discussion that took place awhile ago on one of the online neuroendocrine cancer patient groups that I’m a member of. It started with a younger patient asking for advice about when to tell the person she was going on a first date with about her cancer. I was surprised to learn that most of the patients who responded to her question had told very few people outside their immediate families about their diagnosis. I’m quite the opposite. Though I’m naturally an introvert, I’ve been living my cancer journey out loud since the very first day I heard that fateful C word!

In the summer of 2013, when my doctor called and told me that I had cancer, I’m sure that I was in shock. One of the first things I did was sit down and make a list of who I needed to call and then I started. I called our pastor, several close friends, and of course, our family. Just three days later, I wrote the blog post that shared my diagnosis with the rest of the world. At that time, we didn’t even know what kind of cancer I had. I shared that news a couple of weeks later in this post.

Why? Why did I choose to share my diagnosis so openly?

Learning that you have cancer is overwhelming and I knew that this wasn’t something I could handle on my own. As a Christian, my first instinct was to call the people I knew would pray for me. Without realizing it, I was beginning to build an invaluable support system that would make the journey so much easier.

There were two reasons for sharing my diagnosis on the blog. Writing helps me process things and boy did I need to process! Since I’d already been blogging for several years, that seemed like the logical place to start writing about what I was going through. Secondly, posting updates on the blog was an easy way to communicate what was happening with our large extended family and with friends who are literally spread around the world. It meant that I didn’t have to repeat myself over and over again which would have been mentally and emotionally exhausting.

As time went by, however, sharing my journey openly and online also became a way to educate people about neuroendocrine cancer. Ten years ago, NETS was considered a rare cancer, but the number of people diagnosed with this type of tumour has been increasing over the years and it’s no longer fair to say that it’s rare. Sadly, however, it’s still not well-known, so education and advocacy are extremely important. Like any other cancer, early detection means more likelihood of successful treatment and long-term survival. Family doctors need to know that when a patient presents with symptoms such as abdominal pain, diarrhea, shortness of breath, wheezing, heart palpitations, high blood pressure, and/or flushing, neuroendocrine cancer is a possibility. Patients need to know that when their symptoms persist after a more common diagnosis is made, they need to persevere until they get a correct one. It could be NETS. Patients with neuroendocrine cancer, particularly the newly diagnosed, need to know that there is hope. More research is needed to find better treatments and ultimately a cure. Until these things happens, I’ll continue living my cancer life out loud!

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Hiking again!

/ edebock / 4 Comments

We’ve tried to go for a walk almost every day since hubby’s prostate surgery. The first was a very slow shuffle to the end of our short block and back, but it wasn’t long before he was able to handle a couple of kilometres. Last week, when we saw the surgeon for his six week check-up, we got the good news that he is cancer-free and that with the exception of very heavy lifting, he could resume his normal activities. Today, exactly seven weeks post surgery, we did a fairly strenuous 6.5 km hike!

About an hour from home, the Willow Canyon Trail at Donalda, Alberta has become one of our favourite hiking spots. The tiny village of Donalda is perched on the rim of picturesque Meeting Creek Coulee, the northernmost point of the Canadian badlands. It is best known for the 42 foot high replica of an oil lamp that lights up at dusk each day and and sheds its light over the coulee.

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The trailhead is located just north of the lamp and the old restored train station located nearby.

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The hike begins as a woodland trail that passes through private land to access 120 acres of fenced Donalda Ag Society property where visitors are free to leave the marked trails and explore to their hearts content.

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The established trails, which have been enhanced with signage and maps since our last visit, are generally quite easy and stay for the most part along the upper edge of the coulee. We, however, like to leave the beaten track and drop down into the valley wandering up, down, and around the bluffs that form its walls.

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We climbed to the top of that little knoll because… well, just because we could!

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I was delighted to discover that we were early enough in the season to find a few prairie crocuses still in bloom. It was a windy day, but these two were in a slightly sheltered spot where I could get a reasonably good photo.

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Eventually, after a couple of hours of wandering and eating the picnic lunch that we brought with us, we made our way up out of the canyon and back to town where we enjoyed a treat at the recently reopened Coulee Tea House. Under new management, it’s a delightful little restaurant serving a wide variety of teas as well as other beverages, sandwiches, soup, salads, and wonderful desserts. Since we often pass by Donalda on the highway, we’ll definitely plan to stop in for lunch another day even if we aren’t there to hike!

Golden years?

/ edebock / 13 Comments

Have you ever wondered why they call our retirement years, the years from 65 to 80 and beyond, the golden years? The phrase was actually coined in 1959 as part of an advertising campaign for Sun City, Arizona, the world’s first large-scale retirement community for active seniors. The goal, of course, was to portray retirement as a life of leisure; a time to travel, play golf, and pursue hobbies, but is it true?

For Christmas, I gave hubby a sweatshirt with one of his favourite sayings on the front. Retired: The ability to do what I want when I want. Lately whenever he wears it, he hastens to point out that it isn’t entirely true. These days, our lives seem to revolve around countless trips to the city for tests, scans, specialist appointments, and most recently, his prostate surgery. Maybe these should actually be called our rusty years because parts are continually breaking down and our bodies aren’t running as smoothly as they once did!

We certainly aren’t alone in this. At our recent senior bowling windup I looked around the table at our team and realized that all five of us either have or have had cancer. Many of our peers have had hip or knee replacements. Another has recently had a stroke and still others are waiting for biopsy results and/or surgery. No, retirement isn’t all traveling and playing!

I’m not really complaining… well, maybe just a little! I love the fact that we no longer have to rush off to work every day and that the government pays us for simply waking up every morning. I also realize that I’m fortunate to be alive. When I glance at the obituaries these days, many of the deceased are younger than me!

Some people claim that our true golden years are between 40 and 60 when we’re still physically and mentally fit and have probably reached some level of financial security. That led me to wonder, when were my golden years? When were yours? The first decade of my life, living in a waterfront house on the coast of British Columbia with the beach as my playground and the sound of the surf as my lullaby at night, was definitely golden. I look back on the years when my children were at home as golden. I loved that time of my life. There was a dark interval during the fourteen months that our oldest daughter fought her losing battle with leukemia, but even during that time, there were golden moments. When we were in our fifties, the year that we spent teaching English in Japan was golden.

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2 Corinthians 4:16b says, “Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” In spite of the limitations of physical aging, I have no intention of passively resigning myself to coasting along and waiting for my name to show up in the obituaries! It was Abraham Lincoln who said, “In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” So what can we do to make these years count, whether they are golden or rusty?

We may not be able to travel as often or for as long as we once could, but I’ll cherish the relationships that we have with people both near and far and when I can’t be together with them in person, I’ll remind myself how fortunate we are to have the internet, something that we didn’t have in our younger years. When I can’t explore far away places, I’ll seek out and appreciate ones that are closer to home. I’ll continue to offer the best of myself through volunteer work. I’ll read and learn and stay as physically active as I can for as long as I can. Always, I’ll remember to be thankful!

And finally, a message for those of you who are younger, don’t waste what might be the best years of your life yearning for the golden years. After all, they might turn out to be a little bit rusty!

Role reversal

/ edebock / 10 Comments

It’s been quite awhile since my last health update on here, so for those of you who follow our cancer journeys, I thought it was about time for another one. I say journeys because you may remember that, in addition to my cancers, hubby was diagnosed with prostate cancer last summer. Fast forward eight and a half months and as of this week, he no longer has a prostate and as far as we know, he no longer has cancer!

Surgical removal of the prostate, in spite of the fact that it has some negative effects, is thought to be the best choice for long-term survival, but when we saw the urologist in August, he warned us that many specialists consider 70 to be the upper age for performing that surgery. At 73, Richard is otherwise in excellent health and physical condition, so he was referred to a specialist who does robotic prostate surgery, the most advanced treatment option available, with the hope that he would agree to do the procedure. Had he not, there were several other options that we would have had to consider.

On October 31, after the appointment was delayed by a few weeks due to us both having Covid, we finally met with the surgeon. He had clearly reviewed Richard’s case and had absolutely no qualms about performing the surgery on someone in his physical condition. As Dr D said, we could easily look around his waiting room and see men a decade younger than Richard who weren’t in the shape he was in and who would be much higher risk. We were told at that appointment that the wait time for surgery would be five to six months.

Almost five months later, we arrived at the hospital in Edmonton at 5:30 a.m. on Monday and by noon Richard was in the recovery room with no prostate and hopefully no cancer. After one night in hospital, he was released the following day and I suddenly went from patient to caregiver! Total role reversal!

Over the nine and a half years since my first cancer diagnosis, Richard has stood by me and provided excellent care when I’ve needed it. He’s accompanied me to countless specialist appointments and seen me through numerous scans, two major surgeries, 30 radiation treatments, and 14 PRRT treatments. Now it was my turn and I wondered how I would do! Thankfully, he’s been a model patient and things have been going well so far.

The biggest challenge facing us when we got home was the fact that he has a catheter which won’t come out until April 6. The first evening, as we figured out how to change from day bag to night bag (including cleaning the day bag and tubing for the next day’s use), we were both all thumbs. Once we figured everything out though, he’s been able to manage it with minimal assistance from me. A bigger challenge for me might come when our snow finally melts and I’m suddenly in charge of the early spring yard work that Richard usually takes care of! He has very clear instructions not to do any heavy lifting, snow shovelling, or lawn mowing for six weeks. At that point, we’ll also see the surgeon for a follow-up appointment. It’s then that we’ll receive the pathology report and know for sure that he’s cancer free.

And what about my cancer journey? Since early December, I’ve had a CT scan and three different PET scans. Two of those were part of a study. All four scans agreed… no change; no growth or spread. As far as we can tell, my neuroendocrine cancer (NETS) continues to be stable. We’re somewhat puzzled by the fact that a couple of markers in my blood and urine that are specific to NETS have been climbing, but since I’m having absolutely no symptoms, we’ll simply continue to monitor those with more frequent testing. Last week I had my annual check up with the wonderful surgeon who removed both of my other cancers and the good news is that there is no sign of recurrence of either one of those. This is as close as I’ll ever get to a clean bill of health, so I’m in good shape for my present role of caregiver instead of patient!

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One word for 2023

/ edebock / 15 Comments

For each of the past six years I’ve chosen one word to inspire or guide me in the new year as well as a scripture verse to go along with it. My past words have been Still, Grace, Inspire, Bold, Truth, and Freedom.

Little did I know when I chose Freedom as my word for 2022 what a contentious topic it would soon become here in Canada. At the beginning of January, I couldn’t possibly have imagined that less than two months later hordes of protesting truckers would close Canada/US border crossings and take control of the streets surrounding our capital buildings in Ottawa, all in the name of freedom. As I wrote at this time last year, there are really two kinds of freedom, freedom to and freedom from. The so-called Freedom Convoy was fighting for freedom from Covid-19 vaccination mandates. There is no doubt that the pandemic did, at least temporarily, curtail our freedom to travel, to gather in large groups, to celebrate special moments with those we love, and to enjoy many of the activities that we once took for granted, but in my opinion, the protesters were forgetting that with freedom comes responsibility. When I chose Freedom as my one word for 2022, it wasn’t Covid that I had in mind. I was thinking on a very personal level of freedom from trauma induced bitterness that had taken hold in my life.

When it came to choosing a new word for 2023, I considered several possibilities. When I first started thinking about this in late November, I was suffering from scanxiety. As I worried about whether or not my neuroendocrine cancer was spreading throughout my body and thought ahead to hubby’s upcoming prostate cancer surgery, I thought that perhaps Courage was the word I wanted. Once I learned the results of my most recent CT scans, however, that didn’t feel like the right word anymore. For several years I’ve considered choosing Intentional as my one word, but as I thought about that one I realized that I already live quite intentionally. I wanted a word that would give me something more to aspire to in the coming year. But what would that word be?

I thought about how good I feel at the end of a productive day, a day that has gone really well, and tried to come up with a word to describe that feeling. Surely that would be a good word for the coming year. Accomplish came to mind and I almost settled on it, but then I decided that it was too work or task oriented. I do feel great at the end of the day if I’ve accomplished a lot, but I also feel that way when we’ve spent the day hiking or paddling the kayak.

After pondering some more, I finally settled on the right word.

Contentment

According to the Collins English Dictionary, contentment is “a feeling of quiet happiness and satisfaction”. Perfect!

Once I’d finally settled on my word, choosing a scripture verse to go with it was easy. I knew right away that it would be Philippians 4:12b.

“I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”

Whether my health continues to be stable or begins to deteriorate, whether the Covid pandemic is truly over or not, whatever my circumstances are in the coming year, I want to be able to say with the apostle Paul that I have learned to be content in any and every situation. As I plan my days, I’ll consider what I need to do to end each day with that feeling of quiet happiness and satisfaction and hopefully act accordingly.

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Have you ever chosen a word to inspire or guide you in a new year? What would your one word for 2023 be?

Mostly good news

/ edebock / 9 Comments

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been riding a roller coaster that is known in the cancer world as scanxiety (scan + anxiety = scanxiety). 

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Over the 9+ years since my stage 4 neuroendocrine cancer (NETS) was diagnosed, I’ve had more scans of various kinds than I want to count. The morning after each of my 12 radioactive PRRT treatments I had an octreotide scan to determine whether or not my tumours had grown or spread since the previous treatment. Any scanxiety that I experienced back then was short-lived because I met with the doctor immediately after the scan to review the results. Not so with the CT scans that I’ve had at 6 month, and more recently 9 month, intervals since completing my treatments in June of 2019. After each of those, I’ve had to wait about a week to find out the results. A week can feel like a very long time if you’re riding the scanxiety roller coaster, but because I’ve been doing so well for so long, that hasn’t usually been a big problem for me. 

This time was different. About three weeks prior to each scan, I have a whole battery of lab tests. The results of those are available to me online, so before I even had the CT scan, I knew that something might be amiss. Two markers that are of particular significance for NETS patients are chromogranin A in the blood and 5-HIAA (5-hydroxyindoleacetic acid) in the urine. Both had been gradually climbing and were now flagged as being higher than the normal range. That’s when the roller coaster ride began! 

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In my lowest moments, I was sure that cancer was rapidly spreading throughout my body, but I did what I’ve done before in times like this. I called on a dozen godly women who share my belief in the power of prayer and asked them to pray. The ride was smoother after that. I still knew that something might be wrong, but I felt more at peace. I’d be a liar if I said that I wasn’t anxious at all, but I didn’t dwell in the low spots any longer. I also focused on one of my favourite passages from scripture, Philippians 4:6-7. 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

By the time the doctor phoned today for our follow-up appointment (saving us a 5 hour round trip to the city) I truly did feel at peace about whatever it was that she was about to tell me. She gave me the good news first. Nothing of concern appeared on the scans. In fact, a tumour in a lymph node that had been there since diagnosis in 2013 has completely disappeared! That’s amazing news, especially considering how long it’s been since I had my last treatment. I don’t think anyone expected that the PRRT would still be resulting in shrinkage of tumours three and a half years later. The good news was somewhat overshadowed though by the fact that those elevated levels in my blood and urine still indicated that something is happening. So what happens next? 

I’m going to be going for a Gallium-68 dotatate PET scan sometime in January. This newer imaging technique is similar to the octreotide scans that I’ve had in the past, but much more sensitive. It will be able to pick up even the tiniest growths that might have been overlooked on the conventional CT scan. The results of that will dictate what the next steps will be, but for now I’m not going to worry about it. I’m determined not to climb back on that roller coaster. Instead, I’m going to focus on having an enjoyable Christmas!

The scan did reveal something totally unrelated to my cancer. Apparently, I now have a 1.3 cm Thornwaldt cyst lurking in my head! This is a rare, benign growth that develops in the nasopharynx, above the soft palate and behind the nose. If it continues to grow or becomes infected, it has the potential to start causing things like headaches, postnasal drip, blockage of the eustachian tubes, and/or halitosis. If that occurs, it can be drained or removed surgically. I’ll cross that bridge if and when I get there. For now, it’s just one more thing to add to my long list of weird and not so weird diagnoses! 

70!

/ edebock / 29 Comments

Today is the day that I’ve been looking forward to for a long time… my 70th birthday! When I was diagnosed with my first cancer nine years ago, I didn’t expect to live to see this day, but here I am and it feels like a victory!

Months ago, I began to think about what I wanted to do to celebrate this milestone. Being an avid traveler, the first thing that came to mind was a trip. I visualized us packing a suitcase and climbing aboard a plane for the first time in over three years. Where would we go? The possibilities were endless, but Newfoundland was high on my list. We’d explore its rugged landscape, visit isolated coastal villages, and eat our fill of fresh seafood! Yes, Newfoundland was a definite possibility.

Then came hubby’s cancer diagnosis and the all-important consultation with a specialist to determine whether or not he’d be able to have surgery was booked for October 4. So, we’d be in Edmonton, not Newfoundland or some other more exotic location. The iconic “going to Winnipeg” ad that used to air on Canadian TV came to mind.

Oh well, there are lots of things to do in Edmonton. I looked into booking a hot air balloon ride as that’s been on my unwritten bucket list for a long time. We’d enjoy the fall colours in the river valley as we drifted silently over the city and then we’d sip champagne when we came back to earth. Unfortunately, however, the hot air balloon season closed last week! I’d have to think of something else. 

Then came Covid and even the long awaited doctor’s appointment had to be postponed. So here we are at home, doing nothing but watching rain fall outside the window! Earlier in the week, I felt pretty depressed about the lack of a plan for celebrating this special day, but we’re both feeling better and we’ve put in our five plus days of isolation. Regardless of where we are (or aren’t) and what we’re doing (or not doing) I’m 70 and I’m excited to be here! 

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Now, what will I do with the rest of this day?

An entire month of wearing second-hand!

/ edebock / 6 Comments

Logo by SamI did it! Second Hand September wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I spent the entire month wearing only second-hand clothes and to top it off, I didn’t buy any clothes, footwear, or accessories this month, new or second-hand! To clarify, for those who didn’t read my initial Second Hand September post, I did wear underwear, socks, and pyjamas that were purchased new. They always are. I wore a mix of new and second-hand accessories, and as it turned out, all my outerwear was second-hand.

I think I’ve said enough this month about shopping second-hand and reducing our fashion footprint, so today I’m just going to share two more outfits that I wore this week.

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You’ve seen the jeans before, but Sunday was the first time I wore the oatmeal coloured sweater. I bought it at Goodwill in Edmonton in the middle of August when the weather was much too hot for sweaters and didn’t notice until I got it home that the label actually said “maternity”! Apparently the person sorting clothes behind the scenes at Goodwill didn’t notice either as it wasn’t in the maternity section. I can’t help wondering what the young mom who donated it would think if she knew that it was now being worn by a grandmother! Personally, I like the slightly loose fit as it hides my muffin top!

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I bought the necklace at the same time because I thought it went so well with the sweater. My granddaughter who was shopping with me agreed.

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I tested positive for Covid on Monday, so here’s a comfy, casual, stay-at-home outfit… patterned leggings and a solid coloured waffle weave top with three quarter length sleeves. Perfect for a long afternoon nap, it looks and feels a lot like pjs! 

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Again, I bought the necklace on the same second-hand shopping trip as the top because they went so well together. In this case, I actually spent more for the necklace than I did for the top as I bought it at a consignment store. Second-hand shopping is a great way to pick up inexpensive accessories. 

Thanks to being fully vaccinated, mine has been a very mild case of Covid. Aside from being more tired than usual, I’ve had nothing more than a runny nose and a cough. I look forward to being out and about again soon and I especially look forward to delving back into the rest of my wardrobe beginning tomorrow!