Sometimes, if you’re lucky, something comes into your life just when you need it the most. That was my introduction to The Bloggess (aka Jenny Lawson aka Amazing/Funny/Fabulous human being). I LOVED her first book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir), gifted to me by my BFF. If you haven’t read it, treat yourself. Her other books are just as poignant, engaging, and hilarious. They’re like Pokemon – gotta catch them all! Or maybe potato chips – betcha can’t read just one. Something like that.
Better yet, grab the Audiobook! Jenny narrates it, and the humor and heartache and hope just flows from her voice directly to your brain cells, releasing serotonin and making you feel better no matter what you’re going through. Which brings me back to my first point – the something-that-comes-into-your-life-just-when-you-need-it-the-most point:
The day I endured two breast biopsies was a bad day. It would have been worse without Jenny, who allowed me to escape into her world and kept me company while I was waiting to go on the slab. And guess what?
SHE FOLLOWED ME BACK ON TWITTER!!!!
This was the highlight of my year, people! It also kept me going and inspired me while writing Talking to My Tatas. Jenny’s story touched and inspired millions, and she’s saved lives, y’all! I wanted to do the same. Whenever I got frustrated, stuck, or wanted to just give up on the writing, querying, and rejections, I remembered Jenny.
Fast-forward to the present, and guess what? Jenny Lawson endorsed my book!
“I don’t know much about cancer, but I know good writing and humor, and Dana Brantley-Sieders has those in spades.” — Jenny Lawson, #1 New York Times-bestselling author of “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened”
I’m delighted, grateful, and I’m totally going to stalk visit her at The Nowhere Bookshop someday soon. Thanks, Babe!
First off, HUGE news! My amazing literary agent, Barbara Collins Rosenberg, landed a publishing deal for me with Rowman & Littlefield!!! I’m honored, thrilled, and still squee-ing! So, stay tuned for Talking to My Tatas: A Breast Cancer Researcher’s Adventure With The Disease And What You Can Learn From It.
Here’s the Working Blurb – it will likely change based on guidance from my amazing editor, Suzanne Staszak-Silva, but it will give you a taste of what I intend to share (my story) and spread (scientifically sound information) with this book:
Can I talk to you about my personal relationship with my breasts?
I’ve spent twenty years working as a biomedical breast cancer researcher. Then, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I thought I knew breast cancer before it whacked me upside my left boob and left me bleeding on the curb of uncertainty. Turns out, I had a lot to learn. The purpose of this book is to share my personal adventure with breast cancer, from the laboratory bench to my own bedside, and to provide accessible information about breast cancer biology for non-scientists. I say adventure, because I’d rather think of it as an action movie with some really cool side quests instead of another tragedy-to-triumph saga. I’m not big on sagas. I am big on kickass intellectual badassery, pathological nerdiness, and talking about my sweet, sweet rack.
Why do we need another cancer memoir? In a sea of inspirational stories, celebrity survivor stories, and physician memoirs that bring a clinical perspective, nothing I’ve found in the current market tackles breast cancer through the lens of a breast cancer researcher who became a survivor. We live in an age of fake news and pseudoscience, made worse by the pervasive anti-intellectual and anti-science political culture gripping the United States and much of the world. The Internet and social media are plagued by scammers selling “alternative medicine” and woo woo “cures” for cancer. Through Talking to My Tatas: A Breast Cancer Researcher’s Adventure With Breast Cancer And What You Can Learn From It, I offer accurate, evidence-based science that is accessible to laypersons, including the more than three hundred thousand individuals diagnosed with breast cancer every year*, their caregivers, and their loved ones.
Knowledge is power, and lack of it can lead to overtreatment, unnecessary pain and suffering, and can even be deadly. By demystifying the process from mammograms, biopsies, pathology and diagnostics, surgical options, tumor genomic testing, and new treatment options, I aim to offer hope in a story intended to blend the humor and delivery style of Jenny Lawson’sLet’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) with the integrity and scientifically sound beauty of Siddhartha Mukherjee’s The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer.
*American Cancer Society Facts & Figures 2020
I’ve got some work to do! In addition to writing and fleshing out chapters for my editor to review (and work her magic on), I’ve been busy working on figures and visuals for the book, cover art forms, marketing and promo plans, and getting a new headshot! The one I currently have on this page and all over the Internet is absolutely gorgeous, fun, and from 2012. A LOT has happened in 8 years, and I have aged. I’d like to think I’ve aged gracefully, but at any rate, it was time to update the image.
Lillian Boeskool is MAGIC! She made me look so good and captured the essence of my personality in a series of amazing headshots (If you’re in the greater Nashville area and need headshots or other photography, HIRE HER). I have two favorite images and I cannot decide which one to use for this page and the book. I invite y’all to enable my decision-making disorder vote for your favorite!
This one on the left is super fun and catches me trying not to laugh at something funny Lillian said and/or did. It captures my mischief, my sense of humor, and really makes my face look nice.
And, unlike the previous headshot for which I straightened my hair, this one highlights my popping natural curls!
I’m almost 48 years old. Anything that makes my face look nice is gold.
Told you she was MAGIC!
There’s just something about this next one on the right that speaks to me.
I think it captures my sass and tells my readers that I’m going to take them on a really funny adventure that will make them a smidge uncomfortable but will ultimately leave them laughing and glad they went along for the ride.
That’s me in a nutshell.
I can’t decide between the two!
And…just to throw a monkey wrench into this whole program…
This one is my husband’s favorite.
It’s nice, too.
I’m glad he thinks I look good in all of these photographs and still thinks I’m beautiful in spite of time marching across my face and body and in spite of cancer leaving me with a janky left breast-in-progress*.
He’s pretty awesome!
I think I’ll keep him.
*Janky left breast-in-progress on display in the first two photos as the line of discoloration just above my shirt collar. Lillian asked if I wanted to Photoshop it out, but I said no. It’s where I am right now. It’s why I’m blogging, writing this book, and becoming a breast cancer patient/survivor advocate as well as a breast cancer researcher. It’s a badge of fucking honor and it stays!
I had breast cancer. I didn’t have to have chemo. I’m lucky and benefited from decades of biomedical research that made OncoType DX testing possible (I WILL get around to blogging about this test eventually, I swear), and I happened to have a low score.
I still had cancer. I’ve had three surgeries (and I’m not done), radiation, and I’ve got a ten year sentence with estrogen blockers and medically induced menopause. I’m still lucky. I know and understand that. Very well.
I still had cancer. When someone in or out of the survivor club (it’s always worse when it’s another survivor) tells me I had “baby cancer” or “good cancer,” I get a special kind of homicidal that will probably get me locked up someday when I finally lose my .
Never, ever, EVVVVVVVVVER say that to someone who has had cancer. It’s not a contest. It’s a suck fest and no one, not even fellow survivors, should not presume to understand the level of suffering endured by cancer patients and survivors.
First off, I’m doing GREAT nine days after autologous (fancy term for my surgeon using my own fat and tissue to build a new boob) breast reconstruction! The procedure went very well, and the graft took. My amazing surgeon, Dr. Galen Perdikis (and his team, including the surgeon who assisted with the microvascular attachment work), took muscle and tissue from my right thigh and made a very nice left breast by grafting it under the skin he saved following my mastectomy back in May. The official medical lingo for this type of reconstruction is diagonal upper gracilis (DUG) flap reconstruction. I’ll blog more about the specifics and the experience later, but right now, I want to talk about something else.
I want to talk about a bit of an epiphany I had.
Disclaimer – I have NO scientific or medical data to back me up on this, partly because I couldn’t FIND IT on Google or PubMed. This could be a search strategy issue (the closest thing I did find was Post Intensive Care Syndrome, PICS), and I hope it is, because I’ll be super disappointed if no one has studied the phenomenon I’m experiencing right this very moment—a phenomenon that I’ve decided to call Wounded Animal Asshole Syndrome, or WAAS.
This should TOTALLY be included in the DSM. And I fully expect credit for it.
Here’s the deal. The first time I left the house on my own after surgery, which was yesterday, I was, for lack of a better word, a RAGING asshole. Now anyone who knows me will tell you that I can be a Grade A asshole on any given day under the right set of circumstances, but this was something else. Something visceral and deeply animalistic. I was angry, suspicious, and viewed every other human around me as a potential threat. Like a wounded animal, I gave off a heavy dose of don’t-fuck-with-me vibes that fell just short of low, guttural growls.
By the time I reached the Breast Center for my appointment, I was a little worried about the safety of those around me.
Then, it hit me. I am—quite literally—a wounded animal. Yes, I volunteered to undergo the procedure that left me with the healing surgical incisions I was subconsciously guarding. Yes, my rational mind knew that the arguably weird man in Walgreens wasn’t out to snatch me and throw me in his trunk. And yet, I was experiencing the same level of heightened awareness and suspicion of strangers around me that I felt shortly after the birth of each of my children—a time during which I was still sore, bleeding, and physically vulnerable.
That fed into the horrible postpartum depression (PPD) episodes I experienced, but that’s a story for another time…
I have no idea if this is a common thing or a me thing (I suspect it’s a common thing because I’m not special, no matter what my mom told me growing up), but it is both fascinating and disturbing. It happened again today when I took my son to the zoo and we encountered a crowd at the entrance. In addition to generalized COVID anxiety (note: the Nashville Zoo is SUPER cautious, mandates masks, and limits the number of daily visitors like a responsible organization), I was freaked the fuck out and felt the urge to turn in a circle and hiss to keep people away from me and my cub, er, I mean, son. It was weird. It doesn’t happen when I’m out with my mate (husband) or when I’m in in a small herd (of socially distanced friends)—only when I’m alone or with a child (who is almost as tall as me, which makes it weirder).
The only reason I can think of for this bizarre behavior is that it is a throwback from ancestral human days when we were running from cave lions, saber toothed cats, and wooly rhinos. Hide pain, conceal wounds, show no weakness, and act so aggressive that the big scary predator won’t bother with you and will instead seek an easier meal.
Maybe it’s a manifestation of generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), but honestly, I’ve been managing that very nicely with medication and therapy—or so I thought.
Anyone else out there have this? Drop me a note in the comments. We’ll call it an informal survey.
So I’m 5 months out from my mastectomy, waiting for reconstruction of my left breast, and I feel fugly. Not just ugly, but the kind of grotesque that can only come from looking in the mirror and STILL being shocked to see one nipple hanging significantly higher than the other. When I’m clothed it’s slightly better. I can shove my fake boob into my bra and sort of look balanced.
I say “sort of” because the damned insert moves around and is slightly bigger than my intact right boob, so I have to stuff the other freakin’ side with inserts from sports bras, which also move around, and I swear I can tell that I’m lopsided when I look at recent photos.
My family assures me that no one else notices, and maybe they’re right, but I notice, and it makes me self-conscious. It sucks. I also feel old. I’m coming up on my 48th birthday, which technically means I’m still middle-aged. But between the breast cancer diagnosis three years ago, two surgeries, radiation, and three years in medically-induced menopause plus estrogen suppression, I swear I’ve aged ten years.
Am I grateful to be alive? You bet! Do I feel lucky that my prognosis is great? Of course! Is every day a gift? Abso-fucking-lutely! But there are days when cancer and all that comes with it crashes down on me and I get sad, tired, and pissed off about what the big C has done to me.
I’m not alone. If you’re out there feeling the same way, you aren’t alone. We are strong. We are survivors. But we are also human and we will have bad days. And that’s okay. We can’t avoid them, and we have to endure them, but we don’t have to get sucked into the pit of despair. Here are some coping strategies I’ve found helpful. Maybe they’ll help you.
Put on some cute clothes
Fall is here, and that means it’s time to pull out those fuzzy sweaters, leggings, boots, and cute scarves. I’m self conscious about my neck and my cleavage, so scarves have REALLY helped. I’m not going out as much thanks to Covid, but I’ve made it a point, at least once a week, to put on real clothes (instead of the athleisure wear I’ve been rocking since work-from-home became a thing). I choose colors that make me feel bright and shiny, and select from outfits that I’ve been complimented on before. It helps! Those are the days when I can focus more on what I like about my body and face rather than what I don’t like. Have fun, wear what makes YOU feel beautiful, and don’t worry about the folks who say women of a certain age/weight/body type shouldn’t wear certain clothing. The only thing a woman should NEVER wear is the weight of other people’s expectations.
Have Fun with Makeup
I’ve always been pretty basic when it comes to makeup. Foundation, blush, concealer on the blemishes, and boom – done! Fortunately, I have a teen who is super creative, into cosplay, and LOVES makeup. Thanks to her, I’ve upped my makeup game and it has helped me feel pretty. A lovely sales associate at Sephora taught me how to contour, another fantastic salesperson at Ulta recommended primer and an eyeshadow pallet that I LOVE – dramatic eyes really work in the era of masks – and my teen routinely helps me out with the eye makeup game. The old barn does look better with some fresh paint!
Simple Self Care
Anything from drugstore face masks to bathbombs to nice-smelling lotion can be cheap ways to pamper yourself when you’re feeling like a wart on the ass end of a troll. Have a soak, wash your hair (especially if it’s been daaaaaaaaays), brush your teeth, put on some perfume, and treat yourself like the absolute fucking QUEEN you are. You are worth it.
Take a Freakin’ Selfie and Send it To Your Friends
I stole this one from “Everything is Awful and I’m Not Okay,” which I totally recommend you print out and post to your bedroom door. Take a selfie, send it to your friends and/or put it on social media – Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, hell, make a TikTok video. Speaking of TikTok, get on there and find yourself some support from Your Fairy Godmother @starr_mcqeen_, Your Non Binary Uncle @thaddeusshafer, and the aggressively supportive @angryreactions. They don’t think you are pretty, precious, loved, and worthy, and awesome, they KNOW it and they’ll tell you. Your friends and social contacts will tell you you’re pretty, and you’ll believe them and feel better.
Send ME a selfie and I’ll tell you how pretty you are!
Got any other tips? Let me know. I can use all the help I can get, and I’ll share the love!
When you’re diagnosed with breast cancer, no matter what stage or subtype, odds are you’ll be looking at surgery as part of your treatment plan. Got a tumor in your boob? Gotta have it cut out. Thankfully, patients have options when it comes to surgery, and, this is important…
THERE ARE NO RIGHT OR WRONG CHOICES – ONLY INFORMED CHOICES.
Whew, now that I got that off my chest (see what I did there?), let’s talk about two of those surgical options: lumpectomy and mastectomy (single mastectomy in my case, though many women opt for a double mastectomy and that’s okay). A lumpectomy involves removal of the tumor and surrounding tissue while preserving the rest of the natural breast tissue. A mastectomy is complete removal of breast tissue, leaving only skin and the underlying chest muscle behind. I’ve had both, so I speak from personal experience as well as through the lens of science. Here’s the scoop:
In 2018, I opted for a large lumpectomy followed by oncoplastic reconstruction. I’ll blog more about reconstruction options later, but oncoplasty refers to a breast reduction and lift. My tumors were small, I was early stage, and was a great candidate for this less invasive, breast conserving surgery. Even though I was later diagnosed with residual disease, I regret nothing. I simply got unlucky, and mastectomy was always an option if I had recurrence just as it was an option when I was diagnosed with residual disease.
In 2020, when we detected a pesky little 6 mm tumor that didn’t show up the first time, I opted for a mastectomy for the left breast. I chose this so I could maintain sensation on my right side. This was a personal choice – again, no right or wrong choices, only informed choices. I have the same risk of developing cancer in the right breast as I always had (no additional risk by having it in my left breast), and for me, being able to feel touch on the right side was important. Plus, as this 2017 article notes, “Contralateral prophylactic mastectomy (taking off both breasts including the one without cancer) is becoming increasingly common in the United States, and patients considering this option must be counseled about its lack of a survival benefit, its higher complication rate, and the fact that it is risk-reducing but not risk-eliminating.”
When combined with radiation, patients who opted for lumpectomy had outcomes that were comparable (even slightly better on average) than patients who opted for mastectomy. Bottom line – for early stage disease, outcomes are comparable for breast conserving surgery versus breast removal.
*Disclaimer – ALWAYS ask your doctor about outcomes and survival odds for your specific breast cancer type, stage, and grade.
For the lumpectomy, my surgeon removed my tumors and surrounding tissue. Before that, my tumors were marked with Savi Scout devices, radar locators inserted into my left breast with GIANT FUCKING NEEDLES THE SIZE OF SCREWDRIVERS WHILE MY LEFT BOOB WAS IN MAMMOGRAM COMPRESSION. Yes, this is horrifying, but it’s waaaaay better than wire localization, having ACTUAL WIRES STICKING OUT OF YOUR BOOBS to help the surgeon find the target area. After my breast cancer surgeon cut out the tumor, my plastic surgeon took over to perform a reduction (cutting out tissue on both sides) and lift (cutting around my nipples and jacking them up along with the attached breast tissue and stitching the whole thing up in what I like to call an “anchors away” pattern.
For my mastectomy, which was a skin and nipple-sparing procedure, my surgeon cut out all of my breast tissue except for a small portion underneath the skin that contains blood vessels necessary to sustain the remaining skin. The point is to de-epithelialize (fancy term for getting rid of the glandular epithelium that is the source of breast cancer) the tissue to make sure no cancer/pre-cancerous cells are left in the chest area. In many cases, including mine, a tissue expander was implanted between the remaining skin and my chest muscle. After recovery and removal of surgical drains (see below), you go to your plastic surgeon’s office to have a nurse locate the built in port with a magnetic port finder and then stick a GIANT FUCKING NEEDLE into the port to fill it up with saline solution, stretching your skin in preparation for reconstruction. After the final fill, you have to wait THREE MONTHS with a HELLA UNCOMFORTABLE foreign body in your chest before reconstruction. That’s where I’m at right now – waiting for my surgery date.
Pros and cons? If you opt for mastectomy, you can most likely skip post surgical radiation therapy. Radiation therapy sucks! It’s painful, causes fatigue, and it takes several months to fully recover. If you opt for a lumpectomy, your surgical recovery time is much faster! I was up and about within 2-3 weeks after lumpectomy/oncoplastic reconstruction. For my mastectomy on the left side, I was down for the count for 6 weeks and not really back to myself until after 8 weeks and completing physical therapy (didn’t need PT with lumpectomy – another advantage). For lumpectomy, I was able to maintain sensation in both breasts/nipples. I could even still feel the one that got nuked (i.e. radiation therapy). For my mastectomy, sensation on the left side is all gone and most likely will never return. Lumpectomy followed by oncoplastic reconstruction gave me a great shape and aesthetic result. My tits were GORGEOUS (as a part of the reconstruction process, I had a reduction and lift on the right breast in order to achieve symmetry)! I went from saggy D cups to very perky, pretty C cups. It was like being 18 again! But, even though the odds were low, I was one of the unlucky patients who had residual disease following lumpectomy and radiation.
Another consideration – mastectomy required surgical drains. With the removal of tissue and damage resulting from cutting into the body, fluid accumulates in the wounded area and, if undrained, can result in a seroma. To mitigate this complication, the surgeon leaves plastic tubes in the area attached to external suction devices that look like grenades and that need to be emptied several times a day. What comes out ranges from pale liquid to blood red liquid to what I can only describe as “chunky salsa” as pieces of tissue drain out and can sometimes clog the drain and/or the bulb. Yes, it’s that gross. These drains can stay in for up to two weeks, making it impossible to shower, bathe comfortably, exercise, and otherwise operate like a normal, functional human being.
Okay, you CAN function normally, but you’ll fucking pay for it when your drains start filling up faster with bloody, chunky salsa because you overdid it, dumbass. Yeah, I was a total dumbass because “the rules don’t apply to me.”
The rules totally apply to me. Chunky. Salsa.
And, as noted. spending a minimum of three months with one or two expanders in your body following a mastectomy is a level of sucktastic that I can only describe as follows: I’m kinda like a femebot but without the cool guns. I mean, if you’re going to be a cyborg, you should at least get some cool powers, right? That’s a BIG con when it comes to mastectomy. My oncoplastic reconstruction for lumpectomy happened immediately after my tumor removal surgery, which was super efficient and came with a relatively easy recovery.
Bottom line (louder, for the folks in the back): THERE ARE NO RIGHT OR WRONG CHOICES – ONLY INFORMED CHOICES. Knowledge is power. Get as much information from your healthcare team as possible. Ask questions. Do your research (using reputable sources that cite peer-reviewed data). Ask more questions. You are your own best advocate!
First off, apologies for the long absence. Between working from home, homeschooling, gardening (I’ve got a CRAPTON of veggie plants and flowers that I love, pet, kiss, and call my green babies), bread baking (while the yeast lasted), quilting (I’m seriously turning into my grandmother), I’ve been a little busy in quarantine.
Busy is good. Busy has kept me from wallowing and perseverating over my upcoming mastectomy. Two years after oncoplastic surgery to remove the tumor in my left breast and reconstruction involving a breast reduction and lift, we found residual disease. My left breast has to go.
Thanks to Covid-19, my reconstruction will be delayed. That’s not super unusual, as women who opt for implants normally get expanders to stretch their skin prior to permanent placement of the implant. But it’s still stressful. I’ll be lopsided for a while, but I opted to keep the right breast to preserve sensation on at least one side. You knew you lose ALL sensation following mastectomy, right? The new boobs look fantastic and do you no good from an intimacy standpoint.
More on that in a later post.
This post is about perspective, looking ahead to tomorrow, the next few weeks, the next few months, and how to move forward. I received the following message from a Facebook friend, and it is perfect. I’d like to share it with all of you:
“Happy Mother’s Day, Dana. The most Hallmarkesque of the Hallmark Holidays. I trust that Patrick and the brood are making a fuss over you today, and every day.
Patrick has spilled the beans about tomorrow. I imagine that you must be both determined and more than a little whacked out and scared. If you weren’t, I’d be more worried about you.
Surgery is a big deal, and you wonder what life will be like on the other side. At least I did as I prepared for mine last year, when I was blindsided by news that my prostate had to go. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I am delighted that you will be spared the indignity of having a rubber tube jammed up your wee wee for 2 weeks.
I can report that almost a year later, life is still good. Turns out that my masculinity had virtually nothing to do with the operational status of Mr Happy. Your femininity has nothing to do with your hooters, to use the most inoffensive yet funny term I can think of. Bazooms ran a close second.
The most attractive part of a woman to me is her brain. I pray that with the surgery behind you, your brain can be free from worry, and that you can fill it with more good, tranquil and beautiful thoughts.
Your family loves you, especially that bizarre Dutch guy. We are all pulling for you, and send healing thoughts, love and joy.”
Thank you, Survivor Brother. That’s exactly what I needed.
As much of America (not enough, but we’re getting there) and the world at large continue to shelter-at-home, self (or mandatory) quarantine, and take other measures to flatten the Covid-19 curve (In epidemiology, the curve refers to the projected number of new cases over a period of time), we’re facing many new challenges. We’re worried about our finances, job security, food security and the supply chain, medical supplies, and the economy, of course. We’re worried about our families, friends, communities, and the long-term impact of this pandemic. We’re worried about our childrens’ education, which like most of the rest of societal norms, has been put on hold. We’re worried about how and when the pandemic will end, and what we can do to prepare for the next one.
There will be a next pandemic. It’s inevitable.
For many of us who are classified as non-essential workers, we have more time to worry as we remain isolated from friends, family, and other social supports. It’s the perfect storm for anxiety and depression to thrive, and it’s a problem. Maintaining mental well-being, as well as physical and spiritual, can be a struggle in these difficult times. But it is essential if all of us are going to get through this.
I’m fortunate to have access to Telehealth services – hell, let’s be real: I’m fortunate to have access to healthcare and coverage in this nation, something we should ALL HAVE. I’ve been receiving tips from my wonderful therapist (and my son’s therapist, too), and I’d love to share this advice with all y’all. I hope it helps.
Keep a Regular Schedule
Keeping a routine is beneficial for health and well-being. You don’t have to be super rigid about it – flexibility is key. For us, weekdays consist of a regular wakeup time at 8:00 a.m., a loose homeschool schedule, regular healthy meals, free time in the evening, and a regular bedtime. Small steps, but they are sanity savers in uncertain times. We don’t know what’s coming tomorrow in the wider world, but we know what we need to do for the hours in the day. This is especially good for children.
Tune Out The Noise – News and Social Media
The media is a double-edged sword and has been for a long time. It’s important to keep abreast of local, national, and international news in a time of crisis, but too much apocalyptic doomsday speculation, news of tragedy, talking heads arguing back and forth, and watching our leaders at their worst isn’t healthy. Social media is much the same. Take a break. My therapist suggested having a designated 30 minute to 1 hour slot for checking in with the news and “unplugging” for the rest of the day. News is one thing, but I’m a social media addict! I love FaceBook, Twitter, and Insta, and these tools can be useful in terms of feeling connected with people during the isolation period. But avoid fights, don’t use social media as a gateway for too much bad news coverage to seep in, and don’t fall into the rabbit hole of 3 hours in TikTok land. That’s just not healthy.
Healthy Eating and Exercise – Essentials of Self-Care
This one’s been a challenge for me – eating healthy is hard when you love to bake and have time. But there are no downsides to healthy eating and exercise, and many of us have time now! The Internet is full of amazing recipes, which is especially useful when you’re working with a limited supply of ingredients. Check out this site for tools to help you plan meals based on what’s in your fridge and pantry. If you’re having trouble feeding yourself or your family, check with your school system (MNPS is continuing weekday meal service for students and families), food banks (find one near you here), and for state and local programs in your area.
For exercise, something as simple as stretches, sit ups, jumping jacks, and leg lifts are always a good choice. I’m working on strength and flexibility to manage side effects of tamoxifen and prepare for my mastectomy, so yoga is my go-to. Yoga with Adrienne is my online go-to. Walking through your neighborhood (while maintaining social distancing) is another great option, as is yard work, housework, and games like Just Dance and video game fitness options. Move your body several times a day in whatever way works for you.
Need to unwind? Warm baths and showers with extra pampering time are fantastic. Deep condition your hair, massage your scalp, practice mindfulness as you take care of your body. Whatever spiritual path you follow, rituals work to calm, heal, and comfort in difficult times. Use them, but do it safely. No mass gatherings!
Find Connections When and Where You Can
Remember when I said to avoid social media? While avoiding the negativity on social media is a great thing, using it as a tool to connect with people you cannot see in person is a beautiful thing. I’m appreciating all of the amazing talents on display in FaceBook, Twitter, and Insta videos, which is even more fun with people I know! Have an IM chat. Call a friend or family member. Use Zoom, Skype, or FaceTime if you’re so inclined and are willing to put on a bra (pants optional). Human connection, even for introverts like me, is essential.
You might consider creating content to share during quarantine. I’ve done my part with this dramatic reading of “Does It Fart” to educate and entertain the public with the subject of animal flatulence.
Don’t Drink, Sleep, or Work Too Much: Moderation
It’s tempting to use this shelter-at-home thing as an excuse to over indulge. If you’re drinking or using drugs to self-medicate, though, please stop! You’re risking your life, health, and emergency medical services are already strained due to the pandemic. Get help! You are important, you matter, and we can’t lose you!
Getting rest is a good thing, but too much sleep isn’t healthy. See above – keep a routine, including a normal sleep routine, for health and sanity.
It’s tempting to use this time to dig deep into work-related projects, as many of us feel the pressure to catch up, not get behind, and are worried about career and job security in this difficult time. But, as noted above, routine is key. Work, take regular breaks, and STOP each day. This is therapist-recommended!
Have fun and Be Weird
You’re at home with family, pets, or possibly on your own.
Embrace your weirdness and have fun with it!
In my house, we have Bob, the Halloween skeleton who we’ve decided is (a) not just for Halloween, (b) gender fluid, and (c) a being for all seasons. Bob likes to dress for the season, so he’s sporting one of my favorite sundresses, a lovely cap, and is striking a sassy pose with flowers. That’s my weird (one of them, anyway).
Resources for pandemic: Ready.gov, Benefits.gov (resources for unemployment, healthcare coverage, food), GrantSpace.org (links to resources for bill pay assistance, grants, etc.)
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not done with breast cancer yet. But I don’t have to like it, and I don’t have to pretend that I’m entirely okay. I need help. Still in therapy, meeting with my care team on Thursday to come up with a game plan to get rid of this stupid little 6 mm bastard of a tumor, and then meeting with the plastic surgeon the following Monday to discuss Tits 3.0.
It’s a lot. What’s keeping me sane right now, aside from my family, Netflix Comedy Specials, and cat videos on Facebook, is my work. Y’all, I get to kill breast cancer cells ALL THE TIME in the lab. It’s so cathartic and gratifying. I wish with all my heart it was as easy to kill cancer cells in patients as it is in little plastic dishes. It’s not, but what we discover in little plastic dishes could eventually lead to the next cancer therapy.
My amazing student, who’s working with cancer cells that are similar to mine (hormone receptor positive), saved a plate for me. Not only did she save a plate, she decorated it with an adorkable “destroy me” tag that made me giggle snort.
I adore her.
Naturally, we decided to video me killing cancer cells.
As noted in the video, please for the love of your health, do NOT drink hydrogen peroxide to kill you tumor. It’s #toxic and not in a way that will target your cancer. But, as you can (hopefully) see, it stresses out the cells in the dish, overwhelming their defenses against oxidative stress to the point of death.
But, having the power to kill tumor cells that are similar to those growing in my body helped me on a psychological level. And if any patients or survivors want me to kill cancer cells like yours in the lab, I’m down! Hit me up. I can use chemo drugs, approved and experimental cancer drugs, peroxide, detergents, soda (it totally works), you name it. Let’s get creative!