Brenda's Blog: A Guide to Surviving Breast Cancer

I Cry For Women I've Never Met

Monday, April 26, 2010

©Brenda Coffee. All rights reserved.

This year I am attending numerous Komen races and walks around the country, and I find no matter where they are located, the bond of the Breast Cancer Sisterhood is so palpable you can almost touch it. The same touch that started with our discovery of a lump in our breasts. The lump that changed our lives, and the lives of our families, forever.

At a Komen event you can see the unspoken bond of shared experience in their faces; women coming together, rejoicing in a united spirit of strength and survivorship. It is a sea of pink shirts and hats and a sprinkling of closely cropped hair; the club you feared joining; the sisters you never wanted. It is a club that does not discriminate against age, race or gender. Yes, men get breast cancer, too, but for the most part, breast cancer is a sisterhood. <PREVIEWEND>

Over the weekend I did a television interview for KTVT CBS 11 in Dallas, and their sister station, KTXA 21 in Fort Worth. The interview was going well until the reporter asked “Why did you start the BreastCancerSisterhood.com?” It is a logical question and one I’ve answered before, only this time when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out. Instead I became overwhelmed with emotion. I began to cry. As I looked into the camera, I knew the answer to the question because the “why” has become the major focus of my life.

As the camera kept rolling, no one said a word, including me. I wanted to shout, “Just the thought of all those other women hearing the words, ‘You’ve got breast cancer,’ and living through the same fears and experiences I’ve lived through is heartbreaking. I want to give them the answers to questions they don’t even know to ask.” As I sat there, I tried hard to compose myself, but the words stuck in the hollow of my throat. I was overcome with love and empathy for each and every woman, and their families, for whom the Race for the Cure is not just a date on the calendar but a lifeline: the hope and promise of a cure.

Komen is more than a Race for the Cure. It is a celebration of life; a time the Breast Cancer Sisterhood unites and rejoices in the fact we are still here; that we have survived and endured this profound and sometimes, unbearable experience. While we will always be members of the Breast Cancer Sisterhood, our thoughts will shift from the constant fear and worry about when, and if, our breast cancer returns, to gradually letting the comforts of normal life become our driving force. While the “what ifs” may never leave us, our lives are in the here and now, and we are a composite of our life experiences.

Oprah Winfrey said, “I am where I am because of the bridges I have crossed.” Perhaps that should have been my answer to the television reporter. I have crossed a bridge I never wanted to cross. I have done the thing I feared most, and hopefully, this experience, along with God’s grace, is making me a more compassionate person with something to give her sisters: the gift of Survivorship. That is why I started the BreastCancerSisterhood.com. To give them the gift of Survivorship.

As breast cancer survivors, we are changing the world. We are finding ways to help our sisters, and in the process, making their bridge an easier one to cross. More importantly, we are raising the money to find a cure so our sisters and their daughters, and the sisters we will never know, may be spared the journey of crossing this bridge. I pray for the day when I will not cry for women I’ve never met.

Click here for more...

Comments | Make a Comment | 10 Previous comments

Cancer: A Life of Rebirth and Hope

Sunday, April 18, 2010

©Brenda Coffee. All rights reserved.

The spring rains have blessed us with an abundance of wildflowers this year. They are everywhere, scattered along the roads and hillsides and nestled among the nopales--the prickly pear cactus. The Texas bluebonnets, Indian paint, Mexican hat and evening primrose are signs of rebirth and renewal. These earthbound bouquets remind me of the spring my chemo came to an end.

Every day for a month, I had willed myself to drive the 45 minutes to where Eduardo and Miguel were hard at work, restoring the old ranch hand bunkhouse we affectionately call the Little House. Nature’s spring carpet paved my way, giving me energy, blossom by beautiful blossom, freeing me from a body tired from cancer and chemo. Seconds after leaving the freeway, the traffic faded away, replaced by Axis and Whitetail deer, Texas Longhorns and the daily progress on the neighbor’s new house down the way. <PREVIEWEND>

Our road twists and turns skyward, cutting through layers of time warped by billions of years of unseen forces. James and I are blessed to be temporary stewards of this beautiful land once frequented by Comanches, dotted with stagecoach stops and home to over a century of hard-working ranchers.

That spring, everyday when I got to the ranch, Eduardo and Miguel would be sanding and scraping away all evidence of the ranch hand families who’d occupied our 484-square-foot house. I wondered how many people had lived in this small space? It is a joyous home, flooded with sunshine and a gentle breeze. I like to think babies were conceived and born here; women baked pies and hung laundry while their men cleared cedar and raised cattle. Their lives were simple, but good. I prayed we would be as lucky. The promise of the life we could have here mended my soul. It gave me the hope I was cancer free with years to linger and laugh and give thanks for another spring.

For now, we have made this tiny 100-year-old house our home. It nourishes our soul and fills our spirit. The pine floors and limestone fireplace comfort us. Our house is shaded by Post Oaks that flicker shadows across the old tin roof: a patina of rust and yellow, mingled with patches of silver and gray. At night we listen to the elk bugle on a neighbor’s ranch and take solace in this respite of calm; we revel in the new directions our lives have taken.

Once again, God had blessed us with another spring of rebirth and the hope that each of you finds solid footing on your journey through cancer.

Click here for more...

Comments | Make a Comment | 8 Previous comments

Having Cancer is Hard Work

Monday, April 12, 2010

©Brenda Coffee. All rights reserved.

Having cancer may not be like building fences, bailing hay or working long hours to finish that ad campaign, but make no mistake: Cancer is hard work for you and your family, especially if you’re taking chemotherapy.

Chemo is like having a gorilla hangover on steroids except it doesn’t go away the day after treatment, or the day after that. While you may feel better, although not back to normal when it’s time for your next chemo, the next treatment will knock you down again. Chemo is cumulative, and lack of energy is a profound side effect.

There were days when I did nothing but lay in bed, and was still so exhausted, I thought the day would be my last. Seriously. Sometimes I made James get into bed with me and hold my hand and asked him, more like forced him, to reassure me. “You made it through the last chemo, and you’ll make it through this one, too,” he would say. “You’re going to be just fine.” And I was, but the severity of my exhaustion was sometimes frightening. I know this is easier said than done, but try not to fall victim to all your fears. More than likely, you will know if what you’re experiencing is more than chemo exhaustion, but if you have any doubts, do not hesitate to call your doctor or 911. <PREVIEWEND>

It is hard for someone who has not experienced chemotherapy to understand this kind of bone weary tired. Sometimes even the simplest of tasks can feel Herculean, like you’ve been forced to run a marathon or biked uphill and kept pace with best of them, and you have. Lance Armstrong has been where you are now. He went through the toughest chemotherapy his doctors could give him, but he came back. I came back, and so will you.

Your cancer is hard on your caregivers as well. Actually each separate thing a caregiver does is the easy part. It is the combined and repeated jobs of chauffeur, grocery shopper, cook, maid, childcare provider, tutor, and morale support—for as long as needed—with love, compassion, positive attitude and humor that is the hard part.

If you find yourself without a caregiver, give yourself permission to let things go. Your world will not collapse if the dry cleaning doesn’t get picked up, or the floors look like they’re breeding hairballs. Let it go. This is the time to take care of you. If your kids are old enough, ask them to do the laundry and pickup after themselves. Hey! It could happen! They might surprise you. If they need to be driven to school, perhaps there’s another parent in the neighborhood who could take them, and in return, offer to pay for some of their gas. Your friends and neighbors want to help, but they don’t know what to do, so give them a specific task like bringing dinner on Sundays, taking you to chemo, etc.

At the end of the day, perhaps you and your family can all pile up in bed together and each of you talk about your day. You’ll be especially glad you didn’t have soccer practice or have to put a new roof on Mrs. Murphy’s garage, and your family will be glad they have more energy than you do. And the dog? All of you may decide Phydaux had a better day than anyone. He got to chase squirrels, pee where he wanted and dig up the last of your petunias. I’d take that over cancer any day.

Click here for more...

Comments | Make a Comment | 6 Previous comments

Not Tonight Honey. My Feet are Cold.

Monday, April 05, 2010

©Brenda Coffee. All rights reserved.

Did you know cold feet could make it harder for some women to orgasm? I didn’t know that until Dr. Laura Berman, a highly regarded professor, researcher and sex therapist, dropped this life-changing tidbit on Oprah.

According to several studies, the key to female arousal is deep relaxation and lack of anxiety, and you can hardly be relaxed if your feet are always cold. In my case, and numerous other breast cancer survivors I’ve spoken with, my feet are not simply cold. They are usually freezing. Not even socks can warm my feet. It takes nothing short of a heating pad. <PREVIEWEND>

As a result of chemotherapy, many breast cancer survivors wind-up with chemo-induced peripheral neuropathy, or nerve damage. Areas adversely affected can be the brain, which is also known as chemo brain, along with a loss of sensation in the toes and fingertips, even to the point of being numb, and cold feet is a well-known and common side effect.

Since other medical conditions like diabetes, alcoholism, traumatic injuries, infections, nutritional deficiencies, as well as some medications, can also cause peripheral neuropathy, who knows how many women are plagued by the same problem? Because I had eight rounds of chemotherapy, I wondered if Dr. Berman’s statement about cold feet and orgasms applied to me, and maybe to some of you, but short of Dr. Berman, who do you talk to about something like this? Since I am your trusty lab rat, the answer is me!

When I told my husband I was going to experiment with a heating pad, he looked at me kind of quizzically, and then said, “OK. If you insist. But I’m just going along with this in the name of science.” Yuk, yuk… lecherous grin. Bottom line? Warm feet make all the difference in the world.

I’ve since graduated from literally keeping my feet wrapped in a heating pad during sex, which can make for some insanely funny moments that kind of ruin the mood, to turning the heating pad on high and wrapping my tootsies until they’re nice and toasty, then throwing it aside. Of course that approach takes the spontaneity out of sex. Perhaps medical science needs to develop a pill that rushes blood to women’s feet, hopefully making them warmer, and lasting for a 24-36 hour period, giving us the flexibility of Cialis. On second thought, how about a pill that warms our feet and brings us satisfaction at the same time?

We are a nation mired in technology and inventors. We can read the license plates on a speeding car from outer space, and my blow dryer has a more sophisticated microprocessor than some computers I’ve owned. Is it really asking too much to warm my feet AND increase my libido at the same time? I read somewhere that footwear made of leather has insulating properties that help keep our feet warmer. Hmm… Maybe I should just buy a pair of high-heeled, black leather boots that zip up the side. Now there’s a look most men would go for. Oh, honey… I have another experiment.

Click here for more...

Comments | Make a Comment | 4 Previous comments

Cinco Vidas

Debbie's Cancer Blog

Divine Caroline

Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer

Rear Window

I Cry For Women I've Never Met

Cancer: A Life of Rebirth and Hope

Having Cancer is Hard Work

Not Tonight Honey. My Feet are Cold.

Previous 1 Next

Brenda's Blog Main Page

Alex's Blog Main Page

Scott's Blog Main Page

Amy's Blog Main Page

Archive

Categories