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I did not find a lump. There was nothing to feel – just a slight puckering in
my skin that appeared on the side of my breast. Something new that led me to
follow up on an overdue annual mammogram.
The mammogram led to a diagnosis of stage II breast cancer.
My surgery took place on December 23rd. I was told that I didn't need
chemotherapy and considered myself lucky. However, several weeks later, when the
pathology report came in, everything changed. My doctors recommended adjunct
therapy – I would need chemo.
My New Year had begun.
Firsthand Experience
At the time, I was employed as a social worker on a busy cancer ward, and I knew
the language. I had seen the effects of cancer on individuals and their
families. I had even coped with cancer in my own family. Now it was my turn to
experience cancer, firsthand.
When I started chemo, my symptoms were classic. For several days after a
treatment, first thing every morning, I would take a reading of my nausea level.
Then, I would scan the fridge for something to eat – anything that might appeal
to me and would stay down. I obsessed about food, but the pleasure of eating had
vanished along with my taste buds. Nothing was palatable, except white rice.
I knew it was not uncommon to see different reactions amongst family members,
friends, and children. Some children withdraw into themselves; others become
angry, fearful, and want to avoid the whole situation. So when my teenaged
daughter shouted, "yeah, well I'm not going to take care of you when you're
sick," I understood. My youngest was upset: " Mom never gets out of bed any
more." Another was concerned about appearances, "Mom, why do you have to wear
that hat, can't you wear a wig?" I understood my children's struggles. At the
ages of seven, 15 and 16, they each had their individual needs and worries about
my illness. And as a single parent, my diagnosis of cancer added to my
children's issues of loss and security and each responded in their own way.
One day, when I was vomiting in the local grocery store parking lot, my daughter
asked, "Mom, when I had cancer, did I throw up?" "Yes," I said calmly. "Good,"
she said. "If I stopped throwing up, then you will, too!" Yes, we had gone
through this many years before when my second daughter was diagnosed with
leukemia at age three. She recovered – so could I.
Sometimes my family or friends could not support me, mostly because they had
their own fears or didn't understand the complexity of the diagnosis, treatment,
and medical system. They felt helpless and would often say the wrong things. I
felt I had to spend too much energy taking care of their feelings or explaining
the treatment.
It seemed as though my whole life, in those cold winter months, revolved around
doctor's appointments and fatigue. Reading was impossible. I couldn't
concentrate and didn't have the energy anyway. The TV news reported too many
tragedies and the regular programming seemed irrelevant. To make matters worse,
all my friends were at work, my kids were at school, and I was isolated and
alone. I had lost my hair, my health, and my professional identity.
Questions arose: What had I done to cause my cancer? Who could I talk to about
my fears? But my deepest worry was one I could hardly admit to myself: Would I
recover?
I had to reach out. I joined a support group. Although I had been part of these
shared experiences professionally, now I could truly share the experience of
cancer treatment – woman to woman. Women with breast cancer attend support
groups for a number of reasons: to maintain self-esteem and confidence; to deal
with loneliness and isolation; to develop a telephone network; to learn coping
skills and stress management; to share success stories; and, most importantly,
to normalize their experiences. Hearing the stories of other women, I knew that
I was not alone. Open and honest discussions gave me the strength to develop a
new understanding of the journey.
Surviving
In the past few years, I have talked with many women diagnosed with breast
cancer. Last year, while attending a conference called the Myths of Cancer, I
was struck by the most recent reports on the after-effects of chemotherapy on
cognitive functions as experienced by many professional women. Every day, new
information is available on the impact of the diagnosis on the lives of women
and their work experiences. And new information brings us closer to answering
the question: Why me? I had always wondered about the link between my cancer and
my daughter's. It wasn't until recently that I saw the first research confirming
that mothers of children with leukemia are at greater risk of being diagnosed
with breast cancer.
Today, I belong to a network of professional social workers who have had cancer.
This network brings a whole new dimension to my work and echoes my experiences
with the women's support group that I participated in during my year of
treatment. I encourage all professionals experiencing a diagnosis of cancer to
reach out and to network – both personally and professionally. Professional
networks allow for frank discussions about disclosure issues, secondary trauma,
projection, the ability to integrate personal experience into everyday work with
clients, and various ethical parameters for working in the field. But most of
all, knowing that your experience is shared offers great comfort at a time when
you need it most.
Source :
http://www.medhunters.com/articles/breastCancerAProfessionalsExperience.html