Tea and Talk
Back in September, my friend Angelia, gave me a wonderful gift. She signed both of us up to attend a retreat for breast cancer survivors, an annual event organized by Dr. D, my radiologist. (The psychology of it is kind of strange… I had seen the flyer at the Women’s Imaging Center, but because I still had the tumor in my breast, I didn’t consider myself a survivor yet, and so I wasn’t planning to go to the retreat.) Angelia, knock on wood, hasn’t had breast cancer, but has spent a fair amount of time at the Women’s Imaging Center. When she saw the flyer, she immediately called me and asked if she could sign us up.
I am so glad we went. The retreat was wonderful. The day was spent with 20 other women who had had breast cancer or who were currently undergoing treatment for breast cancer. We were treated to yoga (by my instructor, Joy), a chair massage, a drumming circle, tea with the doctors, discussions with a counselor who works with individuals dealing with serious illnesses and their families, and really yummy food. The day also offered the opportunity to spend time with others who could really understand and relate to the shared experiences of breast cancer as well as an opportunity to hear each other’s unique perspectives.
It was at this event, I met Renee, a woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer in her early 50s and decided her approach to overcoming the disease would be humor. Thus, her alter ego was born. An instructor at the William and Mary Law School by day, Renee becomes the Good Health Fairy when a different kind of assistance is in demand. This attractive and dignified women dons an elegant evening gown and tiara, ties her pink high top tennis shoes, and armed with wand, goes where smiles are needed. It is not just our heroine’s costume that elicits smiles, but her own bright countenance and sincere concern for all. Her presence can’t help but warm the heart and spirit.
Due to the nature of breast cancer, and its typical onset being later in a women’s life, most of the other women at the retreat were in their 50’s, 60’s and even 70’s. There was a woman who was 35, and another who was 39. I began to talk to Renee about how many wonderful breast cancer survivors had reached out to me in love and support, but before that day, I hadn’t found any in the Williamsburg area around my own age. She agreed that breast cancer at any age is a scary experience, but that younger women may be dealing with different issues, like raising small children. Thus the seeds for “Tea and Talk” were planted.
Our heroine collected names and e-mail addresses and shortly after our initial conversation, sent an invitation to five young breast cancer victors to meet at her home on a Sunday afternoon in October for tea and talk. Our second gathering was this past Sunday. Three of the original five of us were in attendance, and we were joined by a lymphedema specialist, Amy, from one of the local oncology practices.
Amy was great to share both her Sunday and her extensive knowledge of lymphedema with us. I became a little overwhelmed by the information, and as I expressed my initial response to it all, “This really sucks!”, my voice began to quaver, and my eyes became watery. Renee went in search of tissues. You survive the cancer and its severe treatments, you think everything is going to be fine and that you can return to your pre-cancer state of health (or better) and then you learn that you have to deal with the risk of lymphedema the rest of your life. It does suck, but how wonderful that I could be in a room with three other women who could understand my pain and frustration and who could both validate my feelings and encourage me.
Like all the other times on this path when I received new information that wasn't what I may have wanted to hear, I just needed a little bit of time to absorb, adjust to, and accept what I heard. Here's the lowdown in one paragraph or less: Because most of the lymph nodes on my right side have been removed, my lymphatic system is compromised. This puts me at risk for severe swelling of that arm if the lymphatic fluid isn't able to drain properly. I should wear a compression sleeve and glove from this point forward when I fly or when I am exercising. I shouldn't go into hot tubs or saunas. I shouldn't lift anything heavy, even grocery bags, on that side, or carry my purse on that shoulder. I have to be careful not to get any cuts, bug bites, sunburn, etc. on that arm, hand, or surrounding area. If I go for a full body massage, I shouldn't have the arm or surrounding areas massaged. (Alas, this last one will have little to no impact on my life.) When I write it down now, it doesn't sound that bad, and it really isn't in the grand scheme of things. Afterall, I am alive, and that is the most important thing, but it is still just a big pain in the butt, a lifelong health consequence of the cancer I thought I could put behind me.
Amy mentioned some of the symptons that would warrant a call to your doctor. "Which doctor?" I asked. "I have one who poisons me, one who burns me, and one who slices and dices me." Ironically, while it is the radiation and surgery that puts one at risk for lymphedema, it is the oncologist who pretty much coordinates the various components of treatment, so Dr. P is the one I would call. The overall risk of lymphedema is pretty low, but one of the woman in our group does have it and was able to relate her experiences. The good news is that I am now armed with information and can take the necessary precautions. I left the group feeling a little depressed but also buoyed by the strength and support of my new friends.
I am so glad we went. The retreat was wonderful. The day was spent with 20 other women who had had breast cancer or who were currently undergoing treatment for breast cancer. We were treated to yoga (by my instructor, Joy), a chair massage, a drumming circle, tea with the doctors, discussions with a counselor who works with individuals dealing with serious illnesses and their families, and really yummy food. The day also offered the opportunity to spend time with others who could really understand and relate to the shared experiences of breast cancer as well as an opportunity to hear each other’s unique perspectives.
It was at this event, I met Renee, a woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer in her early 50s and decided her approach to overcoming the disease would be humor. Thus, her alter ego was born. An instructor at the William and Mary Law School by day, Renee becomes the Good Health Fairy when a different kind of assistance is in demand. This attractive and dignified women dons an elegant evening gown and tiara, ties her pink high top tennis shoes, and armed with wand, goes where smiles are needed. It is not just our heroine’s costume that elicits smiles, but her own bright countenance and sincere concern for all. Her presence can’t help but warm the heart and spirit.
Due to the nature of breast cancer, and its typical onset being later in a women’s life, most of the other women at the retreat were in their 50’s, 60’s and even 70’s. There was a woman who was 35, and another who was 39. I began to talk to Renee about how many wonderful breast cancer survivors had reached out to me in love and support, but before that day, I hadn’t found any in the Williamsburg area around my own age. She agreed that breast cancer at any age is a scary experience, but that younger women may be dealing with different issues, like raising small children. Thus the seeds for “Tea and Talk” were planted.
Our heroine collected names and e-mail addresses and shortly after our initial conversation, sent an invitation to five young breast cancer victors to meet at her home on a Sunday afternoon in October for tea and talk. Our second gathering was this past Sunday. Three of the original five of us were in attendance, and we were joined by a lymphedema specialist, Amy, from one of the local oncology practices.
Amy was great to share both her Sunday and her extensive knowledge of lymphedema with us. I became a little overwhelmed by the information, and as I expressed my initial response to it all, “This really sucks!”, my voice began to quaver, and my eyes became watery. Renee went in search of tissues. You survive the cancer and its severe treatments, you think everything is going to be fine and that you can return to your pre-cancer state of health (or better) and then you learn that you have to deal with the risk of lymphedema the rest of your life. It does suck, but how wonderful that I could be in a room with three other women who could understand my pain and frustration and who could both validate my feelings and encourage me.
Like all the other times on this path when I received new information that wasn't what I may have wanted to hear, I just needed a little bit of time to absorb, adjust to, and accept what I heard. Here's the lowdown in one paragraph or less: Because most of the lymph nodes on my right side have been removed, my lymphatic system is compromised. This puts me at risk for severe swelling of that arm if the lymphatic fluid isn't able to drain properly. I should wear a compression sleeve and glove from this point forward when I fly or when I am exercising. I shouldn't go into hot tubs or saunas. I shouldn't lift anything heavy, even grocery bags, on that side, or carry my purse on that shoulder. I have to be careful not to get any cuts, bug bites, sunburn, etc. on that arm, hand, or surrounding area. If I go for a full body massage, I shouldn't have the arm or surrounding areas massaged. (Alas, this last one will have little to no impact on my life.) When I write it down now, it doesn't sound that bad, and it really isn't in the grand scheme of things. Afterall, I am alive, and that is the most important thing, but it is still just a big pain in the butt, a lifelong health consequence of the cancer I thought I could put behind me.
Amy mentioned some of the symptons that would warrant a call to your doctor. "Which doctor?" I asked. "I have one who poisons me, one who burns me, and one who slices and dices me." Ironically, while it is the radiation and surgery that puts one at risk for lymphedema, it is the oncologist who pretty much coordinates the various components of treatment, so Dr. P is the one I would call. The overall risk of lymphedema is pretty low, but one of the woman in our group does have it and was able to relate her experiences. The good news is that I am now armed with information and can take the necessary precautions. I left the group feeling a little depressed but also buoyed by the strength and support of my new friends.
posted by Mary @ 11:30 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home