Fight(ing) With Food or, Do I Fight Cancer with Food, or Am I Fighting with Stuff On My Plate?

“Hey, wait, I’ve got a new complaint”

-Kurt Cobain/Nirvana, Heart-Shaped Box

Yes, I am going to complain about another one of those pieces of advice on how to reduce risk of cancer.

I recently stumbled over a couple of articles touting the positive impact of plant-based diets on cancer. One of the articles extolled the virtues of veganism, encouraging the reader to go one step beyond simple vegetarianism. But this article held a tad of controversy; as one clicks the various links to the studies sited within, one will see the vegan diet actually increases the chance of colorectal cancer. Another article simply focused on eating “colorfully”, as carotenoids may be directly anticarcinogenic. I was especially interested in this article, because it says this is especially helpful to breast cancer patients who are NOT ER positive, as in more helpful for those of us that are triple negative or HER2+. It seems most info/advice for breast cancer out there pertains to estrogen positives, rightly so, as it is the most common form.

These two articles sited various nutrition or oncology resources, and were written using language explaining how the properties of the vegetables work in the body to fight cancer. They are certainly more persuasive than the headlines on those stupid women’s magazines my mother read each week during my infusions, and that I would read after she finished, while waiting for the last drop of liquid poison to get into my port. Reading those quotes while sitting there, and while standing in line at the grocery store, and just about anywhere on anything about food and/or health, really began to irk me.

These proclamations are NOT news. I’ve noticed the pervasiveness of the “eat this for a better heart/to prevent cancer/to lower cholesterol” articles for ages. Enough already—we get it! (Yes, I know that the underserved populations do not always know this info, but they are not the target audience; preaching to the choir will never change that fact).

Hey, I like vegetables. I constantly ate carrots as a little girl, to emulate my hero/boyfriend, Bugs Bunny. And I never once went to Acme to buy an anvil to drop on anyone’s head, proving that it is possible for little kids to learn the good habits, and not the bad things, from cartoons and other violent forms of entertainment (don’t think old time cartoons are violent? Watch them again upon reaching parenting age).

No I have not eaten the perfect anti-cancer diet, but I daresay my diet is better than lots of people without cancer. I vacillate between blaming myself– “I got cancer because I hate tomatoes, if I’d just learned to eat them, I would not be in this mess” and—“this is ridiculous, I ate enough garlic/spinach/walnuts to prevent cancer, the study must be wrong”. But I know I am not the only one with this feeling, one of the comments on the vegan article says “well then I never should have gotten damn cancer”. This comment breaks my heart. Just another example of the way the body can betray a person—do everything right, and still get cancer. Just another person perhaps thinking “yeah, what about me, is this my fault”.  Makes me want to drop an anvil on someone’s head.

I know this is just another case of me allowing myself to be irritated by something that was not put out there specifically to irk me. I know this info is out there to encourage people to take better care of themselves, and that these studies and headlines never guarantee “eat this food and you won’t get cancer!” I know that much of this internal struggle has to do with my desire for control…my wish that there is something, anything, I can do to prevent going through cancer again. But there isn’t, and I’ve somehow twisted this in my mind, making myself believe that the headlines and news articles are lying to me, and to people without cancer…filling them/us with false hope, when the truth is that cancer just isn’t all that picky about what person it strikes.

All of this has made me develop a hateful relationship with food. I now force myself to eat tomatoes by cutting them up tiny as possible in my salad, which I eat more of now, even though I prefer my veggies lightly cooked. I no longer cook my food in plastic in the microwave, in fact I avoid using the microwave whenever possible. But then I get angry and am overcome with the desire to eat fried chicken smothered in cheesecake for dinner (not really, I am exaggerating for effect, I eat those things separately). I mean, screw it….I’ve had cancer, might as well eat what I please!

So, now I have food issues, where none existed before. I just…never know what to eat, so I don’t. So to end this post how I started, I present the song lyric from above, but the misheard version, which sums up my feelings some days as much as the real version!

“Hey, wait, I’ve got a naked plate”

Nirvana’s Heart-Shaped Box mondegreen (misheard lyric)

P. S. I LOVE misheard lyrics, check out books by Gavin Edwards, great titles like When A Man Loves a Walnut, and for the holidays Deck the Halls with Buddy Holly. The books have great illustrations of the misheard lyrics; my personal favorite drawing just has to be for “slow motion Walter, fire engine guy”, which really means “smoke on the water, fire in the sky”.

Could’ve Been Worse

A few days ago I re-blogged a post from The Sarcastic Boob called Just. The post made me reflective. In my early clumsy attempts to be a “good cancer patient”, I often thought about things that were not so bad for me.

  • I was Stage III, not IV.
  • My blood count never got so low I needed a transfusion, and it seemed all the other cancer patients I spoke to were getting transfusions.
  • I don’t think I ever actually threw up during chemo (waking up from surgery, another matter).
  • My hair started coming back almost as soon as I finished Adriamycin; the Taxol seemed to have little impact on it. So, my hair issues were not as bad as others’.
  • I did not really suffer any neuropathy. I think one time I had a little loss of sense in my fingertips; I dropped a mug I did not seem to feel (shattering into a million pieces of course). But this did not last long, and I still have feelings in my fingers and toes. In fact, it seems these extremities are more sensitive; I no longer tolerate extreme cold—always were gloves and socks…so much for wearing stylish flats once the temps dip below 55!
  • The few food aversions I developed I got over eventually, except for fast food French fries, and I’m better off having that particular aversion.
  • And finally, I was estrogen & progesterone negative, I was HER2+, meaning 1) I would not have to put up with taking Tamoxifen for 5 (now 10????) years with all its side effects and baggage and 2) I could have Herceptin every 3 weeks for a year, which is super effective in preventing recurrence (pay no attention to that pesky $8,000-a-pop price tag behind the curtain…). So, I could keep on taking birth control pills, I do not have to go through an early menopause.

I feel guilty about being so “lucky”, especially on that last count. See, the girls in my cancer support group either have kids or want them, and all of them can no longer have them, and the ones that do have them also face the reality of knowing they will not be able to watch them grow up—which I cannot imagine how to handle. And I know it is especially galling for them when the issue of “delaying childbirth/breastfeeding” as a risk factor comes up. It annoys me because I would never do something so idiotic as have a kid just to reduce cancer risk when I am so unsuited to be a mother—I cannot imagine the pain of my friends who really did not even “delay” childbirth (they are all a bit younger than I), and yet they still got nailed with cancer. This is the only situation in which I will feel guilty or apologetic for never wanting kids.

Maybe my “it could’ve been worse” attitude, or my making light of some of the more ridiculous aspects of the past two years, are my way of toning down my complaints, because I certainly have plenty of those. Or maybe it is just my “bah, humbug” curmudgeonly way of counting small pieces of good fortune.

Exactly what I’ve been trying to say….

Scorchy's avatarThe Sarcastic Boob

I have to tell you, every twist and turn of this cancer experience always reveals something new.  There is the physical stuff: physiology, biology, and chemistry.  There is the psychological stuff: fear, resolve, sadness. happiness, and uncertainty.  And then there are the intangibles.  You could argue these are part of the psychological, but I disagree.  By intangibles I mean support and empathy, both real and virtual.

Over the last three weeks or so I’ve had the distinct displeasure of witnessing individuals who, on discussion boards, rage and lash out at other people with insulting, judgmental, and patronizing comments.  Online rudeness doesn’t surprise me at all.  Indeed, it’s pretty standard in the virtual world.  When I first used email for a class in college, I was shocked when a classmate of mine, in addressing a woman with whom he disagreed, wrote “See ya!  Wouldn’t want to be ya!”  He was reprimanded…

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Me

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when people would rub my shaved head, without asking

The Thing About the Hair

So I’m addicted to Top 10/20/100/500 lists. Every time Rolling Stone magazine lists top x amount hip hop songs or albums of the rock era or guitarists, I’m all over it. When VH-1 shows top one hit wonders of the 90s or whatever, I tune in, even if I’ve seen it before. So the other day I was watching for the umpteenth time top shocking moments in music—you know, like that time Ozzy bit the head off a dove, or when R. Kelly got arrested for sex with a minor, and all the horrible deaths of icons. Of course, high on this list is that time Britney Spears left rehab and went directly on to shave her head, and then a few days later, attack a photographer with something (an umbrella maybe?) looking especially crazy with that bald head.

I thought, man, when I shaved my head after my second chemo infusion, I wish I’d had the energy to reenact that scene, maybe record it, put it on Youtube. In fact, a friend of mine, in an effort to cheer me up when I called him to say “well, my head is shaved,” said, “good, come over and let’s reenact that time Sinead O’Connor tore up a picture of the Pope on SNL.” If I had not been so nauseous all the time, I totally would have done it. I LOVE to rip pieces of paper in half and yell dramatically (still do, but now I have hair). Lots of my lesbian acquaintances loved my G.I. Jane look, and the gay men loved it too. One man rubbed my head and said joyously, “you look like a little boy!”  Argh, flashback to kindergarten, my mother always kept my fine, thin hair short, and a little boy said to me one day, “you look like a little boy!” I cried and cried (give me a break, I was 4). The man’s words sent me spinning back to that awful moment for a split second, until it dawned on me “oh wait, this is a compliment, he likes my boyish new look.” Yeah, that was definitely one of my stranger cancer moments.

As I progressed from little kid to teen, my fine, thin hair became coarse, curly to the point of bushy-like so I kept it long to weigh down and eliminate some of the curl. It was half way down my back in college, and as I grew older, I kept it trimmed, but a strange thing happened. It seemed to get to my shoulders, and stop growing. No matter how long I went without a trim, it just refused to get any longer, to get back to my college era glorious length. I worried as my hair returned after cancer if my hair would do that reach-a-point-and-stop thing again. And I desperately need the length. When my hair finally reached the 2-4 inches length, I began to resemble Willy Wonka-era Gene Wilder. I’m a bit past that with the hair growth now, but it is not as long as it was when I shaved it, and it is still very curly. I look forward to that going away.

Hair is a big deal in cancer world. Some women fear the loss of their hair more than the loss of their breast(s). Not I, but that’s another post. I heard a lot of “it’s just hair, your health is more important, so you have to endure it to get the healing chemo” type of comments. For me, the issue wasn’t the actual hair, it was what it meant: my normal, pre-cancer, healthy life. Before cancer, the first thing I did each morning as I woke up was throw it into a ponytail to keep it out of my face as I made coffee, walked the dog, etc. After I shaved it, each morning I sleepily reached up to put my hair in a ponytail, and was immediately shocked into the reality of “I have cancer”. Without my hair, it was like I never had even a split second of respite from the knowledge of cancer and my mortality.

The unruliness of my freshly re-grown hair, along with numerous other marks and pains residing in and on my body, are constant reminders of what happened to me, and the fact that it might happen again, and if and when it does, that it might kill me. I did my best at the time to be lighthearted about it, to joke that I’d become Britney, Sinead, and Demi, but as I got further along in treatment and the “whole cancer thing”, my sense of humor about it diminished. Well, my sense of socially acceptable humor, anyway—I still like tumor humor, but some folks, especially those not directly involved with cancer, don’t like it. So thanks to all y’all who make “you look great” comments about the newly shaved cancer patient’s ‘do, but remember some patients don’t like the look, and I don’t think you’d be willing to shave your head unless you had to.

P.S. Attention Film Industry, Hollywood: When you make a movie including a character with cancer, it’s “nice” they shave their heads (ahem, being a tiny bit sarcastic here). But understand that chemo causes HAIR LOSS, not BALD HEAD. That means all hair. Yes all of it. Even the hair on your special place and your eyebrows. So at least have actors thin out the eyebrows for crying out loud. I’m looking at you Joseph Gordon-Levitt (50/50) and Emma Thompson (Wit). Both great actors (I love you Joe!), but grow a pair and really show us hair loss. And you should probably keep your pants on for the role.

Clarification on Earlier Post about Stress & Cancer

I post on a number of blog sites, and I recently posted—on all the sites I use—Art Therapy and Mindfulness Training Lower Stress in Breast Cancer Patients. Basically I posted a link to the article on HuffPost, along with the comments I left on HuffPost’s comment section. I’ve experienced some strange reactions, which I might discuss in a later post. I may have gone off on the article “half-cocked”, but I still stand by my comments.

I am not against lowering stress, using meditation, art, yoga, or anything anyone wants to do/indulge in, to feel better, cancer patient or not. I do some of these things and more, which works for me. But I must express what bothers me about the article and its presentation, (not the methods or the idea of de-stressing). Here are the first few words of the article: “Stress is especially dangerous for those with cancer — it’s even been tied to lower survival rates…”

I don’t doubt that this is true…hasn’t it been said for years that less stress is better for your heart, your immune system, your…everything? So less stress should also be beneficial to cancer patients….and some articles even note all the reasons we are stressed. Well, duh-huh. It’s like this report my friend told me about, which pointed out that women who want children and experience failed IFV attempts are often more depressed/stressed and consequently more likely to become ill and/or die than women who successfully had children. Captain Obvious strikes again. Who the hell awards grant money for this stupidity?

To get to the cancer-n-stress report I am babbling about, you have to click a few times to get to a page written in medical-ese, which is a little challenging for non-medical professionals to understand, and the casual reader is not going to jump through these hoops. They will only see the sound bites. And that is why I am worried. Those words—stress as dangerous to those with cancer—good grief. Guess what is really dangerous? Cancer!! Know what makes cancer patients stressed? Cancer! Know why cancer is so stressful? It kills!! How about I point a loaded gun, safety off, at your head and tell you to not be stressed?

My point is that it is natural to be stressed in a stressful situation, and in the beginning I felt an unreasonable pressure to be a “good cancer patient” as a result of interactions with people I know and exposure to various news articles constantly lecturing why stress is bad and how to get rid of it as if it were unnatural, and that all of human society must collectively strive to obliterate, not just alleviate it. I used to watch that show Charmed, about three good witches charged with protecting innocents with their magical powers. In one episode they upset some cosmic balance and every one had to be happy all of the time, and the merest hint of an expression of a slightly negative emotion could get a person arrested/killed…except the characters could not talk about death, because everyone was acting like it did not exist.

Sometimes I felt like that television episode in Cancer Land, especially the cancer swathed in the cheery pink ribbons. When assaulted with this don’t worry be happy attitude, I felt as though my legitimate emotions were being dismissed—that  I was being dismissed for not getting on the rah rah train. I no longer feel this pressure, because mainly it was self imposed because I thought I needed to fulfill everyone else’s expectations. Now I feel: fuck your expectations! I am ALLOWED to feel the bad along with the good, and so are you. I know I am not the only one who just gets more stressed when told not to be stressed. For a much better expression of this concept (because I think I am starting to suck here), please check out The Human Side of Cancer, Jimmie C. Holland, M.D., chapter 2, The Tyranny of Positive Thinking.

But worst of all, those words, stress is dangerous to cancer patients, once again suggest the notion that anyone can exert control over cancer, or life, even. One of the worst interactions non-cancer patients have with cancer patients is when “they” start asking those slightly accusatory questions…did you smoke to the lung cancer patient…did you get a pap smear to the ovarian cancer patient (which does not detect ovarian cancer, but that question was asked of my friend nonetheless)….did you drink too much in your youth/do you exercise/what is your diet like/are you stressed—to any type of cancer patient. Those without cancer wish to almost blame us, to put “us” on the other side of an imaginary line so “they” can remain safe, and therefore unlikely to get cancer. I know, I was once a “they” or an “I”. “I” thought quietly to myself, “I” do or don’t do xyz, “I” am safe, “I” won’t get cancer. WRONG! I’m sure everyone can think of that one anecdotal situation of someone so healthy, running miles every day, happy as I don’t know what, etc, and the person still got cancer. It happens, we are powerless, and the randomness and meaningless is still a struggle for me, as is the lack of control, but that is a whole other post!

The cause of cancer is unknown, which is why people still get it. And it’s nice some medical research is advocating for recognizing the health benefits of less stress—hell if it results in medical insurance coverage of yoga classes or whatever, wonderful. But what would really relieve my stress is the knowledge there will be better, easier-to-take treatments, should my cancer return. Less nausea = less stress. Less burnt skin = less stress. No more disfiguring surgery = less stress. Better yet, find a way to PREVENT cancer altogether. That is why I get so frustrated when I see a report like this, in which money and energy were spent studying something that seems so damn obvious.

Just

Scorchy's avatarThe Sarcastic Boob

We’re all so programmed to minimize our experiences.  I hear it a lot among women with breast cancer.  Whether it be in a discussion board or face-to-face conversation, it doesn’t take long for someone to say “I’m just dealing with hair loss” or “I’m only just stage two.”   I think there are two sides to this coin.  On one side, we know that someone else always has it worse.  And, on the other side, we’re relieved that we’re not that someone else.

Even at Stage IV I can preface a statement with “I’m just.”  I’m just taking Tamoxifen and haven’t had to deal with the horrors of chemical warfare; I have had no surgery and still have my breasts.  I just have metastasis to two spots in my spine, not every bone in my body.   I just have some spots on my lung, but not in my liver.  …

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Cognitive Dysfunction & Cancer Treatment: Old News

Read this from the Accidental Amazon

Cancer in My Thirties's avatarcancer in my thirties

This will probably seem like an odd post, but I’m going to present a snippet of my afternoon from two different perspectives for no other reason than “just because.”  Thanks for indulging me.

Scenario 1:

Across the room, a girl sits in a recliner with a small table beside her.  She is sipping a large cup of tea.  The tea bag tag dangles gently over the edge of her cup. The girl stares off into the distance and a smile crosses her lips.  What is she thinking about?  Perhaps she is remembering a lover from her college days?  Maybe she is picturing a basket of puppies?

Wait… judging from a frame most would describe as thin and a belly that is unmistakably large and rounded, it’s clear that she must be pregnant — she must be thinking of the baby growing in her womb.  Yes.

Her eyes light up as…

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Inspirational Blog Nomination

Inspirational Blog Nomination

Thank you, Tracy at FEC-THis for nominating me for this award. I am shocked; I have not been blogging long, and I am touched that I am inspiring anyone at all.

From what I understand, I am to post about this award and the blogger that nominated (see above), tell 7 (random) things about myself and nominate & notify 15 other very inspiring bloggers. Here goes!

1. I am an only child.
2. I have no children, and have never wanted any.
3. I love punk rock, classic rock, alt rock, and hip hop.
4. As much as I wanted to move to the big bad city when I was in high school, I have remained in my small town//rural area, and I love it.
5. A talking tropical bird with limited vocabulary once bit me on the foot.
6. I am a liberal, but I think I look conservative (few piercings, no tattoos, despite coming of age at a time everyone got them to express “individuality”).
7. As much as I kick against the idea that because I had cancer I was supposed to learn a big life changing lesson, I did actually learn that while I cannot expect life to be all rainbows and puppy dogs after cancer, I can sure as hell work to make it NOT miserable. I spent the last year excising things, people, and situations that made me miserable. So I am going through a mini-mid-life crisis in which I have reverted to behaving like my late teen/early 20s bratty self, and I LOVE it.

Since I am still new to blogging, I hope I am following proper etiquette in my nominations:

Lindsay Sarah Interrupted
Riding the BC Roller Coaster
cancerfree2b
My cancer journey
I Can’t Complain Any More Than Usual
cancerinmythirties
My Eyes Are Up Here
The Pink Underbelly
Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer
regrounding
Telling Knots
Being Sarah
The Sarcastic Boob
Pink Goose
Susan’s Blog from Advocates 4 Breast Cancer (A4BC)