Cancer - a powerful messenger

Cancer is telling us something. Each person's message is different. For some, their bodies hold a genetic predisposition to getting cancer. For others it is environmental. The question is what do we have power over and what is out of our control?

I was genetically tested and know that my breast cancer was not due to genetics. That being said, cancer has been the cause of death for quite a few of my family members. My father, grandparents, cousin and uncle all died because of cancer. I reassured myself by the fact that my father and grandparents were all stricken later in life. But my cousin and uncle were in their 30s and 40s. No matter how I looked at it, cancer was a shadow reminding me that I could be next.

When I felt a lump in my breast I reassured myself that there was no history of breast cancer in my family. I put off having a mammogram or even going to see a doctor because of finances. I put it off until my intuition went from a whisper to an internal scream. By the time I saw a doctor and got the diagnosis, the tumor had grown beyond what would be considered early stages of development.

What caused my breast cancer? I looked hard at my physical state. I have chosen to eat organic whenever possible. But I am overweight. My battle with weight goes back to a tug of war that begins with the irony of my two grandfathers' professions. My father's father was a dentist; my mother's father was a candy maker.

My maternal grandfather, Poppy, took us to the candy factory on special occasions, allowing us to fill a large plastic bag with any kind of candy we wanted. It was a sweet tooth's dream come true.

Fast-forward 40 years later and my sweet tooth has become quite picky. I go for the high-end, dark chocolate and organic versions of sugar highs. Either way, I know it's a case of too many calories and not enough exercise to work it off.

In my younger years, I was a fast-moving, hard-working kid with an entrepreneurial spirit that kept me strong and fit. As I aged and began working in an office, sitting in a chair for hours a day, I started using sweet coffee drinks and afternoon snacks to keep me going when my body just wanted rest. I didn't realize that there was a day when my habit became an addiction. The switch was pulled and changing was a lot harder than before. I've dealt with using food as a means of self-medicating and celebrating instead of a way to refuel my body.

My doctor filled me in on a fact that had eluded me until I was diagnosed with breast cancer: My kind of cancer, which is estrogen fed, can have a direct correlation to being overweight. Excess fat in the body produces estrogen. So being overweight contributed to my cancer.

This was my wake-up call. Cancer was the messenger.

The aftermath of treatment has made it harder to do what I can to change my circumstances. When I healed enough, I was getting out and walking five to six times per week. I started to have some pain but figured that was just part of getting back into shape. Eventually I realized that I had developed tendonitis that made my Achilles tendons extremely painful.

I've learned that after chemotherapy and the start of taking post-cancer drugs to halt the production of estrogen, many patients who try to get back into shape experience the same problems. Both my arms have the potential for lymphodema so I have to wear uncomfortable tight-fitting sleeves from my wrists to my armpits whenever I exercise. This summer those sleeves, coupled with the hot flashes I now experience, made me feel like a pressure cooker.

What I can still control is what I put in my mouth. Some days I do better than others. There are so many emotional repercussions from the cancer experience. I'm taking one meal at a time as I work on controlling how I deal with them.

And there are other complications. Let me tell you, chemo-brain is real and it makes recovery harder. I forget to take my pills, when I have a doctor's appointment, and the names of people I've known for years.

I'm the first one to admit I'm not the sharpest scalpel on the tray, but I did okay at maximizing my positive attributes and mitigating the challenging ones. Chemo-brain tipped the scales and made me lose confidence in myself. That foggy brain feeling makes it harder to remember to do what I can to get healthy.

But behind all of this belly-aching is a fact I want to remember more than any other. I AM STILL HERE! I lived and have been given the chance to change what I can change and choose a different way to deal with the things I can't. I am so grateful that I'm alive. I know there are so many who didn't get the chance I have been given.

When I sink into moments of sadness and loss of hope, I pick myself up by remembering those who lost their lives because of this disease.

Through physical therapy twice a week my tendons are healing. I'm starting to get back out there and walk again. I've taken a few steps backwards but I'm at it again. I'm hoping that switching to a different drug that isn't quite so severe will limit further injuries when I exercise. So, it's time to put one foot in front of the other and see where it all leads.