April 2013 archive

Cancer Etiquette

Is there really such a thing as “cancer etiquette?” The answer is a booming “Yes!”

I have been asked frequently about what not to say to someone going through a cancer battle, and have decided to finally take the plunge and address the issue publicly. Fact is, although cancer is becoming more and more prevalent in our world, most people still don’t understand how to properly talk with someone facing this diagnosis. Do you say “You’ll be fine,” “That sucks,” or “How much longer do you have?” No. Yet, while there are many things you should avoid talking about with a cancer patient, there are also phrases that can be beneficial. Everyone handles a cancer diagnosis differently. Family, friends, acquaintances, strangers, and the patient themselves will have emotions greatly differing from one another. Though you may feel right in your feelings, always be mindful, respectful, and considerate for the one on the front lines in the fight for survival.

Disclaimer: While reading these, you might think, “Oh crap! I’ve said that!” but please don’t feel bad. We are all humans and make mistakes. I know that it’s not your intention to offend or hurt me (or fellow cancer warriors) when you say certain things. And personally, I don’t keep a tally when I hear something that rubs me the wrong way. Frankly, my brain is pretty liquified from all the chemo I’ve ingested, and I might not even remember your name, let alone something you might have said months ago! In addition, please hear my sarcasm in some of these tips. I’m not intending to be mean, but only trying to add a little twist of humor. And last but not least, please note that not all of the below “do’s and dont’s” may properly apply to everyone with a cancer diagnosis. When in doubt, use your sense. Before word-vomiting on the person, stop and think first. And, when all else fails, treat them as you would like to be treated…Unless you like pity. Ain’t nobody got time for that. 

  1. Don’t offer to help unless you really mean it. Sometimes when you see someone close to you get the news that they have cancer, you think that by offering help, we (the patient) will automatically feel better. Think first. Do you really intend to step out on a limb, interrupt your own schedule, and put yourself aside to lend us a hand? If you are willing to help, by all means, tell us. If not, don’t even bring it up. We won’t be offended. If you would like to help in certain areas (providing meals, running errands, financial support) let us know. Being more specific will benefit everyone involved. And don’t expect us to let you know when we need something. Being sick and asking for help is tiring.
  2. Is that a bad kind? Believe it or not, many people unknowingly ask this question. Unless you don’t know what cancer is, you can assume that all kinds of this disease are bad. Yes, there are diagnoses that have greater survival rates, while others have lower success, but the truth remains: cancer sucks no matter what the diagnosis or prognosis.
  3.  You’ll be fine. Do you know this for certain? If not, please don’t throw this into this mix. It will only leave us feeling guilty for being sad. Truth is, no one knows how our story will end…except God. And last time I checked, that wasn’t your name.
  4. Don’t ignore us because we now have cancer. I promise, it’s not contagious. Ignoring us will make us feel diseased and isolated from all you healthy folks.
  5. Know-It-All. Yes, there are numerous sources for information in our world today. But just because you have spent hours on the internet researching cancer does not mean you can now put an “MD” in front of your name. Unless you have gone through the same process as us, you don’t know what it’s like. When you uninvitingly share your vast knowledge, there’s a high likelihood we will feel more scared and alone.
  6. Death Sentence. “Oh wow! My grandmother/uncle/sister died from cancer.” This is not helpful in any way, shape, or form.
  7. I can imagine. Really? You must have a very creative imagination. Fact is, no, you can’t imagine what this is like. Have you ingested poison day after day in hopes that it won’t only kill the good cells but also the bad? Have you laid under laser beams that shoot fire into your body? Didn’t think so. Also, pneumonia/pregnancy/migraines are not even slightly comparable to cancer.
  8. Don’t put pressure on us to change doctors or therapy. You may have good-intentions and you may actually be right, but suggesting that we switch doctors or treatment may cause us anxiety. Be mindful of how you offer input, and try not to push it on us. It’s our body and our decision. What worked for your friend may not work for us.
  9. That sucks. Yes, we know it sucks. Please spare us the reminder.
  10. How much longer do you have? Although you may be very curious about our life expectancy, we may not have the answer. And unless we offer this information willingly, assume that it’s a private subject. After all, how much longer do YOU have?
  11. I don’t know how you do it! This statement is laughable. Sometimes, we don’t know how we do it, either. But when it comes down to it and you have to choose between life and death, I bet you would put your shit-kicker boots on and choose life as well.

Now that you know what NOT to say to us cancer patients… are you worried you have nothing left in your arsenal? While there are the obvious no-no’s, you still have options when conversing with us. Believe it or not, there are things you can say and do that are highly beneficial. And sometimes, it’s not always about offering your words, but rather, offering listening ears.

  1. Reach out. While you’ve learned that ignoring us can be harmful, reaching out can do just the opposite. Sometimes we feel forgotten after a few months and years into our journey. Most people forget and move on with their own lives, leaving us feeling stuck and alone. Simply sending a text message, email, or phone call can change our day drastically.
  2. Give us a pat on the back. It may sound weird, but most of us appreciate physical touch. A hug, handshake, or pat on the back shows us that you are concerned. No, ass-grabbing will not be received well.
  3. Listening ears and strong shoulders. When asking us how we are doing, expect a long answer. Sometimes we might just respond with “I’m fine.” But other times, our responses may be long-winded. There are moments where words of wisdom are not necessary. Sometimes we just want to vent or cry or both. Offer to sit patiently and listen.
  4. Encouragement! You like encouragement don’t you? We are no different, besides being bald, weak, and sick. Most likely we are feeling the worst we ever have in our lives. We could be sad, depressed, anxious, and upset. Though you may not see the emotions from the outside, an inner turmoil might be brewing. Simply sharing that you are excited for us to be a cancer survivor, that we still look so beautiful/handsome, and that you know we are strong enough to get through this will lift our spirits. Our physical bodies may be weak, so offering strength and encouragement can inspire us tremendously.
  5. Ask  about treatment with no agenda. Be prepared for scientific terms that you may not be aware of, extensive explanations, and confusing answers. Remember, you don’t have to respond. Sometimes we want to share what we are going through, because more than likely, treatment is at the forefront of our lives.
  6. If you don’t know what to say, tell us. We understand, sometimes we don’t even know what to say about our current circumstance. Coming up with a counterfeit response will be noticed. Be authentic, sometimes words aren’t necessary.
  7. Ask if you can pray for us. While some people may politely say “No thank you,” some of us appreciate and value a prayer…or two, or five, or one hundred.
  8. Admiration. We are trying our hardest to hold on and keep fighting. It’s hard. Reminding us that we are brave, strong, and/or courageous (even though we may feel like none of the above) can help.
  9. I’m sorry. This has potential to be slightly controversial. Sure we can say, “What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.” But equally, I believe we all know that offering this statement is a generic condolence. Most of us will appreciate your concern.
  10. You’re an inspiration. If we have inspired you or someone you know, please share that with us over and over again. Sometimes we feel like our battle means nothing, and simply knowing that our sufferings are helping others in similar circumstances fills our spirit with gratitude. To know that we are making a difference through our journey to help others through theirs is a blessing.
  11. Sharing is caring. This compliments the previous point. If we have done something that has impacted your life for the better, tell us. If you have shared our story and offered hope to a fellow cancer patient, let us know. Not only will it inspire our fellow peers, but it inspires and motivates us to keep up the fight.
  12. Boring and mundane topics are valuable, too. While, there are many times we do appreciate sharing about treatment, struggles, and the journey, we would also like you to remember that we are living life just like you. In most cases, we still go to the grocery store, travel, cook, and clean our homes. Asking us about daily life outside of our diagnosis helps us all remember we are more than a walking science experiment. Ask us what what our favorite foods are… unless we’re sick from chemo. But you get the idea.

1 Thessalonians 5:13-18 (MSG Version)

“Get along among yourselves, each of you doing your part. Our counsel is that you warn the freeloaders to get a move on. Gently encourage the stragglers, and reach out for the exhausted, pulling them to their feet. Be patient with each person, attentive to individual needs. And be careful that when you get on each other’s nerves you don’t snap at each other. Look for the best in each other, and always do your best to bring it out. Be cheerful no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live.”

Defeated. Triumphant. Confused.

One month before diagnosis. Completely unaware of what was to come. (December 2011)

One month before diagnosis. Completely unaware of what was to come. (December 2011)

It’s been about a week since my very last chemotherapy treatment, and I’m feeling different than I expected. Physically, I’ve rebounded a lot quicker this round, and in fact, was at church only three days after chemo (that’s unheard of for me). I’ve continued to get better and better faster than I ever have before. I’m not sure why that is, but I’ll take it. Emotionally, it’s a whole different story.

I expected to be jumping for joy on the last day of sippin’ chemo cocktails. But, boy was I wrong. I cried that night. I was both happy and sad that this chapter was ending. Sad, unsure, nervous, drained, and exhausted. Happy, anxious, excited, and overwhelmed. My emotions poured out through tears staining my cheeks. I felt both defeated and triumphant. Alongside my husband, I was utterly confused… and still am.

Shouldn’t I be over the moon, swimming in glitter, and running through fields proclaiming that I’m cancer-free? Shouldn’t I be thrilled? Shouldn’t I be proud when I receive congratulatory wishes? I don’t know, but this isn’t streamers and confetti like I expected.

I find myself feeling lost. I feel as though I was dropped down in a land I know very little about. I’m unsure of what path to take and where to find the roads leading to the dreams Matt and I have harbored. I can barely put my right foot in front of my left. I’m lost. My job for over a year has been fighting an epic battle against this potentially fatal enemy called cancer. I am a professional cancer warrior. I know the ins, outs, ups, downs, sides, and in-betweens of this journey. I have more medical knowledge than I ever knew I could possess. Although my identity is not in this diagnosis, it has been a huge part of my life for a long time. It’s been my job, my responsibility, my purpose. And now that it is potentially over, I don’t know where to go or what to do next.

The truth remains- I am thankful. I don’t wish to be in this battle any longer. If I have to, I will, but I am desperately praying and exhaustedly believing that this monster will no longer see my body as it’s residence. I want to live. I want to see our dreams come to fruition. I want to move on. As I think on and analyze my feelings, I can’t help but understand that I must accept this as a part of my life’s story. Of course, I continue to know that this has forever changed our future as we saw it, but I suppose, somewhere deep inside of me, I believed that we could pick up and move on. As if all of this was just a chapter, and we could turn the page. As much as I would like to forget about this diagnosis and continue on my merry way like nothing ever happened, I simply cannot. And I will forever bare the scars as a reminder of what will no longer be.

We ushered in 2012 joyfully and expectant. We were taking action and beginning to see our dreams playing out. Our metaphorical bags were packed and we were ready to move forward with plans for the new year. Then only a few short weeks later, our luggage of life was removed from our hands and spilled all over the floor. Dreams, wishes, and hopes were scattered and put on hold. More than a year later, I find myself looking at all the pieces and wondering which dream to pick up first. Which piece of the puzzle will be our next step? Where do we even begin to put this back together again? What is our life going to look like now?

Change is necessary. Without change, growth would not exist. And I want to grow, learn, and thrive. While I sit here viewing the pieces of our life’s puzzle unsure of how to put it all back together, I also know that the responsibility of starting over is not completely on our shoulders. We have someone much bigger and far more powerful to direct our steps. Although our life has been changed forever, our desires, hopes, and wishes still remain. And we will continue to stand firm on the dreams God has placed in our hearts. He put them there for a reason. God places those dreams into our hearts, and we follow stride, developing goals of how to see them become a reality. Sometimes God allows change so that our dreams birth bigger fruit.

Changing the circumstance can often change the size of the dream… and I have a feeling that through this diagnosis our dreams have become exponentially bigger. We dreamed of children, but only expected to have them the “traditional” way. Now, our future story of children is much bigger and far better than we could have ever imagined. We dreamed of making a difference in other people’s lives, but had no clue of how that could happen. God saw that dream, and drastically enlarged the outcome. I knew I dreamed of having a purpose, and because God knew that, He surprised me in making my purpose something so much greater than I ever knew possible.

Although I am still confused and can’t begin to see the picture of our future, I know our dreams will enter the journey at some point. I don’t know when or how, but my God is faithful, and if I can learn to sit in this gap between dreams and fruition, I know rewards are coming.

Looking drained and tired, but equally as excited on the last day of chemotherapy! (March 2013)

Looking drained and tired, but equally as excited on the last day of chemotherapy! (April 2013)

Lamentations 3:25-27 (MSG Version)

“God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks. It’s a good thing to quietly hope, quietly hope for help from God. It’s a good thing when you’re young to stick it out through the hard times.”

Finishing Strong

My last chemotherapy session is tomorrow, and I can’t tell you how ready I am to be done. This has been a long haul. I’m over it. I’m ready to finish treatment and stay cancer-free forever.

Tomorrow’s treatment will mark my sixth and final chemo cocktail of this season. Six is enough. It better be enough. But six chemo cocktails isn’t all that it’s taken to fight this relentless beast.

Since diagnosis in January of 2012 and after my chemotherapy tomorrow, I will have received:

  • 30 chemotherapy infusions,
  • 28 external radiation treatments,
  • And, 2 major surgeries (Radical Hysterectomy with transposition of ovaries, and large mass removal from my abdomen including the removal of my left ovary).

Not only am I ready to be done making regular visits to the hospital and doctor’s office, I’m also more than ready to have my hair back. All of it…Lashes, brows, and locks. I’m ready to stop applying false eyelashes, filling in my eyebrows, and throwing on my wig. I’m ready to be me again. Will my hair grow back like it did (HERE) last time? Will it be dark and curly? I sure hope I get those curls back! Regardless, it will be wonderful to have my own locks when the outside temperatures increase. After all, wigs are hot, and they don’t play nicely with summer.

On Air with Angie Austin

On Air with Angie Austin (March 2013)

Like I’ve mentioned before, I have a lot to be thankful for. Without this battle, I wouldn’t have discovered certain blessings along the way. God has truly gifted me even through the lowest points of this journey, and has continued to remain faithful and true to His promises. He has shown me that joy can exist in the midst of heartache. He has used this diagnosis for His glory, and I’m confident He will continue to. There is no greater satisfaction than to know that He has transformed this tragedy into triumph. That He has given me a resonating voice to cut through cancer and reach others facing similar diagnoses. And again, that my story has a purpose… one that I may never be able to wrap my mind around on this earth.

Angie in Action

Angie in Action (March 2013)

A major blessing that I have counted has been the introduction to the lovely Angie Austin. Through her radio show, good news is shared daily. God has gifted her the platform to contagiously spread triumph in adversity. She has graciously invited me onto her show before, and recently invited me back. A couple of weeks ago, she read my latest good news through my Facebook status, and wanted me to share my report on the air. I must tell you, I have fallen in love with radio, and Angie has become a great friend of mine. She is warm, welcoming, fun, hilarious, and full of personality. And, chatting with her is a blast… a bonus. I could do it everyday. For those who missed the latest interview, feel free to listen to it online via podcast.

Stephanie and Angie after a great show on 810 KLVZ The Good News! (March 2013)

Stephanie and Angie after a great show on 810 AM KLVZ The Good News! (March 2013)

Matt and I are excited for this season of treatment to end. We look forward to not being “stuck” anymore, and being able to move forward with our lives. We look forward to the coming summer months when we can enjoy partaking in the activities we so love doing. Rockies games, hikes, trips to the dog park, concerts. I can’t wait to have a cancer-free summer… a cancer-free life.

Ephesians 2:7-10 (MSG Version)

“Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing.”