Cancer is nothing when you have hope!! This site is all about living … and living well … with late-stage cancer. I hope you will journey along with me through the ups and downs of living with lung cancer.
Like with all of us, my cancer diagnosis threw a real wrench into my life. Suddenly, what was easy and taken-for-granted was no longer easy at all. For instance, working at an 8-5 job became a true challenge.
Feelings of guilt
I was actually fortunate that my employer was fairly generous with the time off they gave me. They never complained about me leaving early when I became so fatigued I had to go home, the multitude of hours I missed to see the doctor, or the days when I was simply too sick from chemo to go to the office. Even though they didn’t complain, I felt terribly guilty.
You may know CSC as Gilda’s Club, named after the famed comedian, Gilda Radner, who passed away from ovarian cancer in 1989. Regardless of the name your center goes by, its mission is to ensure that “no one faces cancer alone.”
Do you remember when you were first diagnosed or when you received word that your tumors were on the move again? It was a very scary time, without a doubt. But, in my mind, it was also a time when life slowed down. Not in terms of doctor appointments and all manner of tests, but in general. All of a sudden, I started looking at and seeing everything around me.
Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Melody Beattie
Begin your day with gratitude
Sometimes when we are delivered a blow, like learning that we or a loved one has lung cancer, it is hard to find reasons to be grateful. But, I believe that searching for and finding gratitude, even in the face of adversity, is vital.
Several days ago, I got a text message telling me that a former colleague and friend had passed away unexpectedly. I had seen her recently and she was her usual happy self. We made plans to get together for lunch soon. I guess none of us realized that her days here on earth were coming to a close. …More
I recently saw a study that found that lung cancer patients who do not have anxiety or depression live longer than those who do.1 I was surprised to find this information because I have always been told that attitude might make your remaining life happier, but it has no impact on how long you live.
When I was diagnosed with lung cancer, I didn’t know anyone else who was still alive and fighting the disease. I started searching around and ultimately landed on a group where I feel totally at home – it is called WhatNext.
I am going to post two links below that will help you know if you think WhatNext will be a good fit for you. I go to a lot of different lung-cancer related forums, but I spend most of my time on WhatNext. It feels like home to me.
On WhatNext, there are caregivers and loved ones, survivors, and people from the medical field for all kinds of cancer from skin cancer to liver, lung, or lymphoma cancers. Take a look at the information below and please join, if it sounds like a place you’d like to be a part of!
I have lung cancer. My husband has diabetes and heart disease, along with PTSD, thanks to his service in Vietnam years ago. So, while he helps take care of me if my treatments make me sick and weak, I try to help keep him healthy, too.
It is frustrating sometimes. Because he faces multiple issues, he takes handfuls of pills morning and night. Some he has to have twice a day, several have to be cut in half, one has to be removed from one of those packages where each pill is separate and has to be pushed through paper and foil. I don’t know what that package is called, but let me tell you, I hate it. I always lose at least one fingernail to it and my fingers are sore for hours after pushing those stupid pills out of the package.
I’ve tried everything to make it easier to get them out of the foil pack. I stab each little compartment. The black iron pills all have little specks of white on them because the scissors I stab with take some of the black coating off.
Since it is a time-consuming duty to manage his pill-taking, I do six weeks worth at a time. We have stacks of those pill reminder boxes. Let me tell you, it is amazing how quickly six weeks passes and it is time to fill them again.
But, here’s the deal. If I don’t fill the boxes, he just won’t take his pills. Last night we thought about having a bowl of ice cream. (Hmmmm, maybe that’s why I don’t lose any weight!!) He said, “Let me check my blood before we get the ice cream out.” Yikes, it was over 300 … It should have been between 90 and 130.
I was astounded that it was so high. He’d had a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner, but an apple rather than chips. When I worried about what could have caused it to go so high, he said, “I didn’t have my meds today.”
Well, that explains a lot. I asked him, “Are you out of pills?” meaning, are all of the little pill boxes empty. Answer, “yes.” Now, I have no idea when he finished taking the sorted pills or why in the world he didn’t mention to me that he was out. I don’t particularly enjoy spending the hour or so that it takes separating out the pills, but I never fail to do it! After all, his health depends on it.
If he runs out, he will just do without his medications. That’s worrisome to me. It is entirely possible that he will outlive me. So, then what? I am pretty sure the VA isn’t going to spring for those nice little pill packs I see advertised on TV sometimes. (I sure wish they would! Those look really handy!)
How do those of you in a similar boat handle this? And, does anyone have suggestions on how to get into those foil packs things without breaking fingernails and ending up with sore fingers from all of the pushing and fighting you have to do to get the pills out? What is the purpose of making it so difficult anyway?
I am sitting here staring at a blank sheet of paper, wondering what I have to say to you that will be worth your time reading it. I am no scientist. With the advent of chemo brain, I don’t even really enjoy reading and researching like I once did. So I have no great wisdom to impart.
What I do have to pass along is hope. Such a little word but one that has the ability to change your life. Hope crowds out anxiety and pushes away fear. It fills you with peace and can motivate you. ….More