#cancerstories

[musicmanstuff]

⏳

Victoria Jackson #Cancer Update:

I have 34.8 months to live if I don’t get hit by a meteor, shot by a MAGA hater, get Covid again or WWIII breaks out.

https://www.instagram.com/victoriajacksonofficial/

[iamthearcher171]

On the one hand I’m really drunk.

On the other hand, that usually means I feel things more clearly because I’m not inhibited by how I *think* I *should* feel/behave.

I want him to be happy. Even if that isn’t with me. Even though I think it could be with me.

I fuck up. A lot. But it’s always been about you. If time is short, I want you to be happy. However that comes. Because you deserve to be happy. Even if it isn’t with me. I’ll find a way to make my peace with that. I’ll have to. That’s what love is, right?

[justalittlebitbroken]

Four years on (An ode to life before Cancer)

Four years on and not a day seems to have passed , since that moment in time, I feared could be my last.

I woke up that morning not knowing how it would go, would I even awake and would I even know?

It may sound dramatic, but it happened before. I trusted the Dr's and ended up knocking on heavens door.

My heart was scared, the cancer grew and I was a mess because I had to deal with things no young women should ever have to.

I longed to be a Mum. A mother. A friend. Someones everything and a love that would know no ends. But that wasn't my story. Wake up you stupid girl. You have cancer my dear, you have to let that dream go.

The dreams I had in that moment as she counted down. One....I HATE THIS. Two...Make it STOP. Three....This feels alright and by Four, I start to drop.

Nicola......

Nicola....

I awake....Nicola. Look at me, it's done sweetie. It's all over. I smile with glee. The wave of shock washes over me. Im alive. One, two, three...lets wheel you round back to reality.

The cancer is gone, it was a success but little did I know as I digress.

The damage was done, I'd never be the same. On that day I awoke a different Nicola than the one that came....

Hello to your new life. One of constant pain, because after cancer you're never quite the same.

[drrajeevkapoor]

There are 3 types of treatment Options for Piles-

1. Home Care

2. Herbal Treatment

3. Surgery

[kallmaker]

The Short Life and Excellent Death of Darth Lumpius

    Back in August I knew I would be writing this post and that this would be the title.

Darth Lumpius had visions of immortality. Its evilness was about the size of two Cheerios. A routine mammogram screening discovered the nasty little bugger. Three weeks later Darth Lumpius was no more, aspirations of takeover all for nothing, thanks to a crack team of Resistance fighters: one surgeon, one radiologist, one radiation oncologist, one therapeutic oncologist, and a platoon of technicians and nurses. They each had their own light saber and the Force was with them.

All Star Wars references aside, I found out I had breast cancer in August. By the beginning of September, I no longer had breast cancer due to quick outpatient surgery. Radiation treatments followed to discourage any hangers on of trying to attempt their own takeover. I am now cancer free with no greater risk of another case than the general population.

All in all, start to finish, the best possible breast cancer story a person can have.

Less than Three Months

It's hard to believe that the entire sequence from first detection at the routine screening, pre-surgical tests, a trip to nuclear medicine (that sounds so cool, doesn't it?!), surgery, recovery, and radiation took not quite three months

Trust me when I say that this year I am profoundly grateful for a great many things:

Imaging breakthroughs - the machine that detected this tiny tumor is about 1,000 times more sensitive that a machine 10 years ago.

Medical treatment breakthroughs - the only other female in my family I know that has had breast cancer was an aunt decades ago; her treatment option was a double mastectomy. I have a completely healed four-inch scar and a minor amount of residual numbness that is slowly going away.

The Affordable Care Act which mandates annual mammograms as a free and covered screening, and requires health plans to repeatedly remind their patients to have one. I didn't need persuasion, but the reminders were useful to avoid any gaps where Darth Lumpius would continue to grow.

Health care professionals who have been relentlessly vilified and terrorized by science deniers still showing up to the job, and doing it with compassion.

Researchers - from the first measurement to the ultimate biopsy of the lump after surgery, multiple tests now exist that made it possible me to always choose the least invasive option that offered the best long-term outcome. I left my final radiation session knowing my chances of another case are the same as the general population.

Peeps who took on work on short notice with no more info than "I have a schedule crunch, can you help?" are rock stars.

My wife Maria, kids Kelson and Lee, and friends who knew who took the news without drama and gave boundless support, and who fell in with my quirky humor but succeeded in discouraging me from getting a tattoo on my scar that said "Ha ha! Missed me!" because that's a Wile E Coyote move, and I don't need an Acme anvil dropping on my head.

Most of all, since they determine as much as 80% of our body's resistance to cancer, I am thankful for the genes I got from my parents and their ancestors. I have no doubt that Darth Lumpius's plans for evil takeover of my right boob were hampered by the Force that I inherited from them. They're all Skywalkers to me.

  All the News Was Good

There is no question that I'm grateful for this outcome.

From my earliest follow ups, every doctor underscored the continuing good news. Darth Lumpius was small and nowhere near the chest wall or my armpit. After biopsy, they knew it was feeding on estrogen and therefore any undetected remnants could be easily starved. Other than it being malignant, all the news was good.

My surgeon (a delightful thirty-something Resistance leader) said flat out, "This is 100% curable." Just before surgery she asked me to decide if I wanted a more cosmetic final appearance or a potentially shorter surgery and recovery. She nodded in agreement when I said, "Whatever approach is best to kill it, please do that." Though I'm sure she'd heard the joke before, she laughed when I said that my days as a boob model were over anyway.

There's one final score that comes from the sample itself which predicts the likelihood of another cell going over to the Dark Side. On a scale of 1 to 100, the happy place is 25 or less. My oncologist lit up with joy when she told me my score was 12. Darth Lumpius, for all its attempted evil, was pitifully ineffective.

(One caveat - I do have to take estrogen blockers for five years. Yes, I will have even less estrogen floating around than I already do. I'm going to have to write my name on my hand at this rate. Yes, I'm truly looking forward to gaining weight even more easily. However, all of that is better than having breast cancer again.)

  A bowl of Inspiration we keep on the piano.

Certainty and Uncertainty

Knowing that the word "cancer" rightly fills people with dread, I kept the news to myself and the closest of family and friends. There was some uncertainty, of course, but I knew I was going to be mostly okay (and I am better than okay) and I wanted to save everyone needless worry. At some point I may need those healing thoughts and prayers. Should that come to pass I'll ask for them then.

Though I was certain I was going to be fine, I had no way of planning my time in September or October. I presumed surgery, recovery, and radiation treatments would all be the worst possible experience, so I pushed deadlines and projects around in case I was not up to working. The time loss didn't happen so I was able to resume some of those projects much more quickly than I had thought, including finalizing an audiobook and releasing a new series. As I said above, I'm grateful to the people who helped when I couldn't plan ahead more than a few days at times.

Not All Women are This Lucky

I am well aware that my diagnosis and treatment are not what many women experience. Given all the good news, I was calm enough to be fascinated by the science, machines, nuclear medicine dye injection, and the cool glued-shut-zero-post-surgical-wound-care scar. I was assigned a social worker for mental health support that I didn't need, and I was more than happy to yield my time to someone who did need it.

The process was like an assembly line where I moved from specialist to specialist guided by many different techs and nurses in between. I found comfort in always knowing the next step, and that there was nothing about my case that caused any of the professionals intent on saving my life from breaking stride. Everyone was kind, listened, and happy to speed me on my way.

Genetics is the real wild card in how cancer progresses and how successful treatment is. We can't change our genes. But we can get the screenings and use those results to have control over our own destiny. And we lucky breast cancer survivors can continue to insist that early detection and rapid treatment are a universal right.

I know many women who could have had my outcome didn't, or won't, because of where they live, how much money they have, and the color of their skin.

Please research charities before you donate to be sure they are doing the work you want to support. My opinion is that "awareness" campaigns are worthless if an aware person can't get the screening.

All that said, the bottom line in fighting breast cancer is early detection. What you don't know can kill you. Knowledge is power. Early detection may have literally saved my life. At the very least it spared me more invasive and painful treatments that may have proven less effective.

  And Then There Were the Bills . . .

My wife and I are both accountants and both skilled when it comes to the forensic side - following the money. It took us 2 hours working together to understand how billing worked, where copays had been applied, and how to match EOBs (the statement that says what the bill is and what the insurance company will pay of it) to claims numbers (which weren't on the EOBs) to services rendered (with claim numbers but no descriptive relationship to the EOBs except date, and/or the name of the doctor vs the location of the services which was not always correct).

I had to make a color-coded spreadsheet. I may have said more than once, "They shall come to fear my accounting powers."

There were obvious simple fixes that could have made it much easier, like universal use of the claim number. I assume they're not implemented because making it easier is not a goal. I imagine many people give up and just pay. We found multiple errors in both directions, but mostly in theirs. It finally squared up in subsequent months. I do not miss my days of doing reconciliations.

  This is a Happy Ending

During radiation treatments they played various songs that ranged from Motown to cozy 90s. The first song during radiation treatment was "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel which made the lasers and scanners moving all around me a truly surreal dance of technology. The final one was "Turn, Turn, Turn" by the Byrds.

So I am turn, turn, turning to the new season, this one filled with gratitude for the community I live in, and the love I know is there for me. A lot in the world is broken but this story is not one of them. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and this year I have much to celebrate.

To everyone reading: You are part of this happy ending. Thank you.

  Copyrighted Material

[tinadonahue]

Lynda Wolters is here to tell us about Voices of Cancer, What We Really Want - What We Really Need, her non-fiction book about cancer patien...

[stemcell-survivor]

This saying is so real 🙏🙏🙏👋👌👌😊😊 Posted @withregram • @cancer.woes_hope.grows ⭐️HOPE GROWS⭐️ . Don’t look back in Anger... . I, for one, need to practice this more. Far too much, I mourn the life I should have had, the life I had before, the person I was before...before melanoma slammed into my life and set up lodgings. Yes there are a lot of ‘what could have been’ in my life but melanoma aside, there are also so many ‘what can be’. Most importantly, my daughter, Heidi. She was 4 months old when I was told I had progressed to stage 4 - which came with a 6-9 month prognosis. At that time, I could not see any ‘what can be’ moments. Since than I have seen Heidi’s first day at school, her last day at infant school, her starting junior school and yesterday I got to see her complete her last day of junior school. I got to comfort her, hug and hold her and wipe away her tears as she mourned this massive change in her life. On Thursday my little girl turns 11 and In September she will start secondary school. A moment, 10 years ago, I can never have dared dream I would be here to see. So in your darkest of days and your hardest of times, allow yourself to think of the HAPPY ‘what can be’ moments, those are the thoughts that will get you through. 💫 There is Always Hope 💫 . Keep on keeping on 💚 #cancer #cancersucks #cancersurvivor #cancerwarrior #cancerfighter #cancerthriver #cancersupport #cancerjourney #cancerblog #cancerinspiration #fuckcancer #cancerstory #cancerstories #storiesofhope #cancercommunity #mysurvivalstory #hopecancer #cancerhope #hopeforcancer #melanoma #melanomasurvivor #melanomasucks #livingwithcancer #lifeaftercancer #hope #thereisalwayshope #keeponkeepingon #hopegrows #cancerwoeshopegrows (at Around the World) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFU5TRAA6UR/?igshid=1m8rzmf4hsjzj

[gayhostesstwinkie]

Trying not to get too personal on main but,

It’s been 2 years since I finished my final round of high dose chemotherapy! And I’ve been feeling great all year. All except for one of my blood counts not recovering. Recently, I got some blood work back that was lower than my last one and I might need to have bone marrow work to check if I’m still cancer free. These last few weeks have been really hard and it’s been really tough mentally! I have more tests next week and would love if you could keep me in your prayers. Trying not to feel so alone

-Pic is from 2 years ago during treatment’

[dwjensen]

Upon Death While Dying... The Last Resolution

January 01, 2018

Being born in the southern hemisphere, the term “Summer Solstice,” its date (21/12) and its history were not significant in my education if my memory serves me correctly. However having lived in Canada for several years, this all changed when this date became the first day of winter and reversed to be the Winter Solstice. The date was also revered by many of our Canadian friends as one to be celebrated for it marked the date of the longest night of the year; its origins steeped in some pagan ritual of seasonal change. While in Australia, its already summer and the longest day of the year (to my knowledge) isn’t something that you celebrate, rather than bitch about the bloody heat that could fry an egg on your forehead. Yet the term Summer Solstice itself means “The Sun Stays Still” and that’s what it felt like on the Solstice just passed.

 R.I.P. Beloved Neils Victor Jensen  April 17, 1928 - December 21, 2017

Laurie and I were driving to the Hospital that morning to receive my latest scan results and to lock in some serious palliative care strategies with the Oncologist. My brother rang me during this hour and a bit trip in to inform me that our Father had passed away early that morning. The highway that we travelled is notorious for black spots of mobile phone reception, so the message took time with recalls and outages until finally all of the details could be relayed with any kind of accuracy. I had no words, just outbursts of sobbing that felt uncontrolled. My stomach pitched with the roll of the road and my heart felt literally torn with a sadness that I hadn’t expected. As we ended the call with a promise to call again that afternoon, the sun did indeed stay still; the longest day was well underway. 

Dad was 89 and had been suffering from “vascular dementia” for several years. He had also been recovering from a fractured femur, suffered in April of this past year and had been gradually deteriorating ever since. During our last face-to-face conversation in April, he had told me with a vulnerability that I had never seen in his eyes before, “I don’t want to die here.” Ironically during one of our last phone conversations not too long ago, I finally told him that I had terminal cancer and bid him my confessional of gratitude for being a wonderful Father to me and that I loved him dearly. The irony lay in his concern for me, not for himself or his situation, but simply for me. He had lost his vulnerability toward his own demise and turned that into a vicarious strength to feed me in what he considered to be my time of need. He had chosen to die well and lead me, yet again by example, into another layer of his generosity and strength.

  Our Dad died in his sleep in the early hours of that Thursday morning. In my mind’s eye I can see my deceased mother taking him by the hand through that gossamer curtain that had separated them for 15 years. Dad had no fear and no pain; he had simply tired of this world and the shell that had served its purpose for perhaps too long. He had served his country, his community and his family and friends with due diligence, honor and loyalty as a member of the armed services (RAN) post WW2, as a Police Officer (ranked Inspector 30 years + service) and as a much loved Father, Grandfather and Great Grandfather.

  As I drifted in and out of the conversation with the Doctor that morning, trying to remember items of discussion or listening to the ambiguous scan findings, I found myself becoming resolute that today…this very long day…would be for Dad and that the words that I was attempting to filter had little to no relevance for me. I was dying anyway and no when or why could benefit me. I was offered radium and different chemotherapy almost as an afterthought, and declined with a surety that bordered on aggression toward this exercise in futility. It was if somehow the death of my own Father had completed this cycle of avoidance of my own death and allowed my true perspective of “going home” a greater insight.

From the beginning of my diagnosis this journey had always felt like I was being called home by the nature of the universe. Everything is mortal and if life feeds death then so to does death feed life. Those of us who are so fortunate to have time to contemplate our own mortality (all of us) should therefore revere both ends of the spectrum with an appreciation of fulfillment. Therefore, my contentment with my life must give true measure to my death and embrace it as my interpretation of the poetry of the universe; or as it sings to me during the chorus of my last breaths…I’m going home.

  And this is what Dad’s dying has gifted me; his last lessons to me were how to die well. I have felt enough fear in my life up to this point and I have no more use for it now. Given the nature of this disease, the amount of pain that I might suffer from now until I die, can and hopefully will be managed from a medical perspective. I would prefer to have some degree of consciousness during my last moments, though this ideal is reliant on many differentials. I am no longer content to say that I accept my death and its process, rather than now I am beginning to embrace it, to love it, as I did my life. This triad of no fear, no pain and to love the nature of the process of dying and death itself is what I believe that it takes to die well. This is my last resolution.

  So now, if this is my “Last Post,” I thank you for reading, for your generous comments and for allowing me to detail this journey. I will soon be joining those waiting for me, yet the next journey will not set me adrift from this one. I’m simply going home.

[laughterwithcancer]

Smiling away at Peter Mac book launch. Collected stories from @catherinedeveny 's writing workshop at Peter Mac written by patients, carers, family and staffs. Beautiful stories and amazing design by my lovely friend @jenclarkmelb . I found out my story is on page 88. Book is available to buy for $25 with profit donated to @petermaccancercentre well-being center #book #story #cancersupport #cancerstories #storybook #allsmiles #hope #strength #healingjourney #cancerawarenesscommunity https://www.instagram.com/p/B5C1s2fFpaf/?igshid=1wdvf73m6zqge

[thegossipmongers]

Ayushmann Khurrana and Tahira Kashyap Recalls their First ever Love Song

http://www.thegossipmongers.com/ayushmann-khurrana-and-tahira-kashyap/

Recently, the cute conversation happened between Ayushmann Khurrana and Tahira Kashyap. Tahira shared a song and asked Ayushmann if he remembers when he sang that song for her! Ayushmann like the loving husband that he is, mentioned all the details about when, where and what song was it!

Ayushmann Khurrana and Tahira Kashyap is one strongest couple of Bollywood. They both speak love and commitment in every action. Firstly, Tahira not being from the industry understands Ayushmann and his work very well. Secondly, Ayushmann also proves to be a loving supportive husband.

Recently Tahira has fought a long battle with Cancer and she came out as a winner. Tahira is one strong woman who took the situation very bravely and fought her battles with sheer courage. After she came out victorious, Tahira motivated other women as well as she posted the picture of her scar. She wrote, “Today is my day! Wish you all a happy #worldcancerdayand hope each one of us celebrates this day in an embracing way. That we remove any stigma or taboo associated with it. That we spread awareness about it and that we have self love no matter what.

http://www.thegossipmongers.com/ayushmann-khurrana-and-tahira-kashyap/

[musicmanstuff]

💕❤

https://grythealth.com/

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https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCGyNgYPurVoxCzAoOqZbh0w/videos

[mamas-boye]

#lifeaftercancer #bookoncancer #bookstagram #bookonmothers #goodreads #goodreadschallenge #cancersurvivor #CancerAwareness #cancerjourney #cancerstories #cancerresearch #cancersurvivor #CancerAwareness #cancerjourney #chemotherapy #cancermedicine #biopsy #bookstagram #bookonmothers #cancersurvivor #CancerResearch #cancerfree #breastcancer https://www.instagram.com/p/CRd3DiyNDGj/?utm_medium=tumblr

[preciouslysparkled]

Stand by me

In a distant memory, somewhere between dream and reality, I was on a lonely road. A dark path I really didn't want to walk down. Like watching a horror movie, where you scream at the screen not to go there, but the character does anyway. So did I. Because the other paths were impassable. And as I did, I got braver and I decided to face the monsters, mostly on my own. In doing so I became a bloody slayer. A champion of dark solitaire paths and running the gauntlet.

I had cancer. A word I had hardly wanted to pronounce before my diagnosis. As if it would make me more likely to get it if I talked about it or by watching cancer charity ad on TV that made me squirm and reach for the remote... Reason being, I didn't understand enough about it.

I was, like most people, in avoidance, in denial that such a thing could ever happen to me. It happens to other people, right? Well, duh, it clearly doesn't. And boy did I learn the hard way. But that story has already been told. And so has some of the following shocker years of operations and harsh treatments. There is no need to revisit today.

However 'the now' is a more difficult story to tell. Because it has no proper direction nor does it have a set end. It silently rolls along. The combative mind continues its daily quest to the gym for pain relief and prolongation of life. Where dark thoughts are quashed in the leg press or Smith machine.

It's a story of living in coexistence with an endless long post cancer medicated void, where the dark clouds are always lurking somewhere not too far away. You can see them in the distance and you can hear the rumble. If you choose to. But I don't, most of the time. I used to hate thunder by the way, when I was little. I was afraid. So much so I vomited profusely sometimes. Reason being, I didn't understand enough about it.

During the last couple of years I have been caught up in a few potential storms but they were avoided in the end. Going through the mental torture of investigations and waiting for results become part of the parcel, so to speak. But it never gets easier. I am just better at dealing. Reason being, I understand enough about it.

Now we have entered a new decade. Glancing back, the last decennary was one to remember. Many would argue, to forget. But I disagree. Although I admittedly look back with sobriety of silent mournfulness, I also uphold abundant pride. For what I see is someone facing up to fears and dealing with tribulation. Finding that inner strength when the body is weak. When bedridden for months on end, in chemo haze and morphined benumbed existence. When crying in exhaustion and pain. When looking like a ghost of former self.

Humbled by the care received and the selflessness in those who tend to us in our darkest hours, gives dauntless force of mind. I learned so many things. Most of all I learned to know more of myself and the unvarnished truth of life. Reason being, I understand.

So, a new year. And a new storm might be forming. I'll face the eye of the storm if it turns out I need to. But this time all I ask, most humbly, instead of being in solitude on that lonely road, will you stand by me?

Soundtrack

https://open.spotify.com/track/6rrmZBm4bowX4QgbeeSXaT?si=1yMVedX9QMWtqDCaUFq3Lg

Stand by Me,

Camishe, Max Oazo

[cancer-n-champagne]

#rest #relax #breath #meditation my #happyplace #cancersucks #cancerstory #cancerstrong @kauai (at Salt Pond Beach Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0wTyjKJZFj/?igshid=xhlpy3c99ii5