This year I am going to light a candle at home in memory of my father. Not for him, but for me. I don’t talk much about it, but I feel I haven’t had time to grieve properly.
31 October 2010
Dia de Todos-os-Santos
The 1st of November in Portugal is a public holiday, it is a day when people go to the cemetery with candles and flowers to put on the graves of dead relatives or friends. Some people say prayers for the dead.
This year I am going to light a candle at home in memory of my father. Not for him, but for me. I don’t talk much about it, but I feel I haven’t had time to grieve properly.
This year I am going to light a candle at home in memory of my father. Not for him, but for me. I don’t talk much about it, but I feel I haven’t had time to grieve properly.
In pain
Yesterday I was happy because although I felt exhausted and weak I managed to go for a walk in Hampstead Heath in the morning. It was a beautiful sunny autumn morning.
Today the story is different, I woke up in the middle of the night with the most intense and unpleasant pain I ever felt before. My whole body was in pain. Or shall I say, is in pain. It is a constant pain, it hasn’t stopped since.
The doctor warned me that one of the side effects could be severe muscle, bone and joint pain and she even prescribed some pretty strong pain killers, but I didn’t think it was going to be like this. I can hardly move. I am so aware of every single part of my body and every single part of it is in pain.
I took a long warm bath which helped a bit, I feel calmer and more relaxed, but standing and sitting is proving to be very painful. I hate being in pain, it just makes me feel so down. If I could I would cry the whole day.
Today the story is different, I woke up in the middle of the night with the most intense and unpleasant pain I ever felt before. My whole body was in pain. Or shall I say, is in pain. It is a constant pain, it hasn’t stopped since.
The doctor warned me that one of the side effects could be severe muscle, bone and joint pain and she even prescribed some pretty strong pain killers, but I didn’t think it was going to be like this. I can hardly move. I am so aware of every single part of my body and every single part of it is in pain.
I took a long warm bath which helped a bit, I feel calmer and more relaxed, but standing and sitting is proving to be very painful. I hate being in pain, it just makes me feel so down. If I could I would cry the whole day.
Happy Deepavali!
 |
| The festival celebrates the victory of good over evil, light over darkness and knowledge over ignorance. |
Ramayana: The story of Rama and Sita
Set in India, Rama (incarnation of the God Vishnu) and his wife Sita have been banished from their kingdom of Kosala for fourteen years, due to a plot by the mother of one of Rama's four brothers to keep Rama from the throne. Rama's brother, Laksmana, accompanies the couple. King Rawana of Ceylon spies the beautiful Sita and creates a plan to abduct her. He sends one of his minions, magically disguised as a golden deer to entice Rama and Laksmana away from Sita. Rama goes after the deer, instructing Laksmana not to leave Sita. Rama brings down the golden deer with his bow and arrow. The golden deer reverts to its original shape and with its dying breath calls out "Help, help, help" in Rama's voice. Sita, hearing Rama's voice, entreats Laksmana to go and help Rama. When he refuses, she goads him into leaving. Laksmana draws a magic circle around Sita and tells her that she must stay inside it until he and Rama return. When Sita is alone, Rawana appears, disguised as an ailing old man, who begs Sita for help. When Sita steps out of the magic circle to aid the old man, the old man changes into Rawana and abducts Sita, telling her that Rama is dead. He rises in the air with her and flies to his Kingdom.
Garuda spies Rawana carrying off Sita and they battle in the air. Rawana delivers a fatal wound to Garuda who falls to the ground, where he is discovered by Rama and Laksmana. Garuda is near death and manages to tell Rama of his failure to rescue Sita.
Rama and Laksmana travel onward and enlist the aid of the army of wanaras, a race of huge monkeys. Sugriwa, King of the wanaras, agrees to help Rama rescue Sita in return for Rama's support of Sugriwa's attempt to regain his rightful throne in the land of Guakiskenda. When Sugriwa meets his nemesis, Subali, Rama saves Sugriwa's life with a magic arrow which kills Subali. After Sugriwa is crowned King of Guakiskenda, the white monkey general, Hanuman, is sent to Alengka (Ceylon) to scout the defences and to deliver Rama's ring to Sita, so that she would know that Rama was alive.
After a narrow escape from the stomach of Wikateksi, the enormous sea monster which guarded the approaches to Alengka, Hanuman kills Wikateksi and flies to the capital of Alengka, the kingdom of the giants. Fortunately, there are many monkeys living among the giants, which provide cover for Hanuman, who reduces his size. He looks everywhere in the city for Sita. Eventually Hanuman finds Rawana's palace and the women's quarters. Hanuman meets Sita in the garden and gives her Rama's ring, which she recognizes at once, and tells her that Rama is on his way to rescue her.
Hanuman, in order to test the strength of the city, resumes his normal size, climbs to the top of a tall building and hurls a challenge to the awestruck crowd below. He begins to destroy the buildings around him by using an uprooted palm tree as a club. He is felled by an arrow shot by the crown prince of Alengka, Hindrajit. Hanuman is shackled in chains and sentenced to die by slow fire. Hanuman appeals to Agni, the god of fire, to save him. A wall of flame springs up between Hanuman and the watching crowd. With a burst of strength, Hanuman breaks his bonds, and swinging a glowing torch picked up from the fire, goes on a rampage which ends in the burning of a large part of the city. Assuring himself that Sita's pavilion is safe, Hanuman leaps into the air and flies back to Guakiskenda.
After hearing of Hanuman's exploits, Rama adopts him as his own son. The army then heads for Alengka, which they find surrounded by a boiling sea. By hurling huge boulders into the sea, the monkey soldiers build a causeway to the island. Rawana learns of the invasion and assembles his generals. Some of the generals resent Rawana's evil rule, but heretofore have lacked the courage to oppose him. Wibisana, Rawana's brother, as spokesman, points out that it was because Rawana abducted Sita that Alengka is now beset by enemy armies. He suggests that Rawana release Sita and avoid bloodshed and loss of life and property. Angered, Rawana strikes Wibisana, who then deserts to Rama's army. Rawana is tempted to murder Sita, but is thwarted by Trijata, Wibisana's beautiful daughter, who has grown to love Sita as a sister. Rawana turns to another brother, the giant Kumbakarna, who although disapproving of Rawana's crimes and baseness, decides to help because they are of the same blood.
After many guerrilla attacks by the monkey soldiers, the two armies finally face each other. Two opposing generals, Kumbakarna and Laksmana challenge each other. Kumbakarna is killed by Laksmana's magic arrow. Other duels take place on the battlefield. Rama spots Rawana and pursues him, shooting showers of arrows, which seem to have no effect on Rawana other than to make him back off. Rawana backs in between two unusually formed rocks which snap together and hold him in an inescapable grip. These rocks are inhabited by the souls of two of his daughters, who Rawana had murdered, and who are at last able to avenge themselves on their father.
Rawana's army surrenders and Rama gives the throne of Alengka to Wibisana. Rama and Sita are joyfully united. The fourteen years of exile being over, Rama, Sita and Laksmana return to Kosala, where they are welcomed by all. However, rumours circulate about Sita's virtue. She offers to test her virtue by fire. She enters the ring of fire and emerges unscathed, her faithfulness confirmed. When the rumours persist, she leaves the palace for the spiritual life.
29 October 2010
4 down, 2 more to go
Chemotherapy: take 4
It feels a bit like groundhog day by now. I wake up after a bad night sleep, feeling anxious and slightly scared, get ready, take a cab and arrive at The Harley Street Clinic for one more consultation with my oncologist. She goes through all side effects and medication, talks to me about how to best manage the side effects and about the new drug I am taking now, Taxotere. She answers my questions, always in a very positive way, making me feel confident and calm. I then go to the chemotherapy day unit, where I choose my chair, the one on the corner, by the window. S. sits next to me, like always, keeping me company while reading and listening to the radio that is playing softly in the room. The nurses greet us in a very nice way as usual and once again they go through the side effects of the Taxotere and explain how my treatment is going to be that day.
The results of the blood tests done the previous day show that my blood counts are within acceptable limits, meaning that the treatment can go ahead as planned. The nurse gives me the anti-sickness pill one hour before treatment starts. He checks my temperature, blood pressure and weight. By the way I’ve put on 1,5 kilos since last treatment which is great because I wasn’t supposed to lose more than 5 kilos and I had already lost 6. The nurses were a bit concerned about my weight loss. With Taxotere I may put on weight because of the steroids I have to take, but hopefully I will manage to stay the same, I will for sure make an effort not to turn into a fat whale. My self-esteem is already at its worse, soon I will have to hide all the mirrors in the house.
The drug is administered via the port-a-cath that I have now on my chest. It is so much better this way, it is faster and less painful. The only pain I felt was when the needle was inserted, and then when it was removed. I wish I had the port since the first day. It is a bit weird though to have something underneath your skin, with a tube in your vein, but I try not to think about it much.
While the infusion is given, I read, chat a bit, and enjoy the reflexology. It is in general a very relaxing day, despite all the stress that comes with it.
In the meantime, the pharmacist comes along with the list of medication I have to take at home, and the usual big bag full of medicines plus the Neulasta injection that I dislike but learned to give to myself to avoid one more trip to the clinic. Once again, she explains what to take and when and answers my questions.
Before removing the needle, the nurse flushes the port-a-cath to ensure it is open and unobstructed.
By 1pm I was already at home, feeling tired and slightly sickish, but nothing too bad. I had a proper dinner and went early to bed.
Today I had a reasonably good day. I just feel extremely tired and slightly nauseous, nothing I am not used to by now. S. stayed at home to keep me company. Having someone around makes me feel calmer. And it is nice to have someone to re-fill my glass of water and give me little kisses.
With the Taxotere I may experience the following side effects:
•Low white blood cell count (increases risk of infections)
•Low red blood cell count (anaemia)
•Fluid retention with weight gain, swelling of the ankles or abdominal area (great, just what I needed, I will turn into a bald big fat whale!)
•Peripheral neuropathy (numbness in fingers and toes)
•Nausea
•Diarrhoea
•Mouth sores
•Hair loss (too late, almost all is gone by now!)
•Fatigue and weakness
•Nail changes (nails may fall off)
•Vomiting
•Muscle, bone and joint pain
•Low platelet count (increases risk of bleeding)
•Allergic reactions (rash, flushing, fever, lowered blood pressure)
•Infusion site reactions
It feels a bit like groundhog day by now. I wake up after a bad night sleep, feeling anxious and slightly scared, get ready, take a cab and arrive at The Harley Street Clinic for one more consultation with my oncologist. She goes through all side effects and medication, talks to me about how to best manage the side effects and about the new drug I am taking now, Taxotere. She answers my questions, always in a very positive way, making me feel confident and calm. I then go to the chemotherapy day unit, where I choose my chair, the one on the corner, by the window. S. sits next to me, like always, keeping me company while reading and listening to the radio that is playing softly in the room. The nurses greet us in a very nice way as usual and once again they go through the side effects of the Taxotere and explain how my treatment is going to be that day.
The results of the blood tests done the previous day show that my blood counts are within acceptable limits, meaning that the treatment can go ahead as planned. The nurse gives me the anti-sickness pill one hour before treatment starts. He checks my temperature, blood pressure and weight. By the way I’ve put on 1,5 kilos since last treatment which is great because I wasn’t supposed to lose more than 5 kilos and I had already lost 6. The nurses were a bit concerned about my weight loss. With Taxotere I may put on weight because of the steroids I have to take, but hopefully I will manage to stay the same, I will for sure make an effort not to turn into a fat whale. My self-esteem is already at its worse, soon I will have to hide all the mirrors in the house.
The drug is administered via the port-a-cath that I have now on my chest. It is so much better this way, it is faster and less painful. The only pain I felt was when the needle was inserted, and then when it was removed. I wish I had the port since the first day. It is a bit weird though to have something underneath your skin, with a tube in your vein, but I try not to think about it much.
While the infusion is given, I read, chat a bit, and enjoy the reflexology. It is in general a very relaxing day, despite all the stress that comes with it.
In the meantime, the pharmacist comes along with the list of medication I have to take at home, and the usual big bag full of medicines plus the Neulasta injection that I dislike but learned to give to myself to avoid one more trip to the clinic. Once again, she explains what to take and when and answers my questions.
Before removing the needle, the nurse flushes the port-a-cath to ensure it is open and unobstructed.
By 1pm I was already at home, feeling tired and slightly sickish, but nothing too bad. I had a proper dinner and went early to bed.
Today I had a reasonably good day. I just feel extremely tired and slightly nauseous, nothing I am not used to by now. S. stayed at home to keep me company. Having someone around makes me feel calmer. And it is nice to have someone to re-fill my glass of water and give me little kisses.
With the Taxotere I may experience the following side effects:
•Low white blood cell count (increases risk of infections)
•Low red blood cell count (anaemia)
•Fluid retention with weight gain, swelling of the ankles or abdominal area (great, just what I needed, I will turn into a bald big fat whale!)
•Peripheral neuropathy (numbness in fingers and toes)
•Nausea
•Diarrhoea
•Mouth sores
•Hair loss (too late, almost all is gone by now!)
•Fatigue and weakness
•Nail changes (nails may fall off)
•Vomiting
•Muscle, bone and joint pain
•Low platelet count (increases risk of bleeding)
•Allergic reactions (rash, flushing, fever, lowered blood pressure)
•Infusion site reactions
Coping with chemotherapy
Each chemotherapy drug causes its own specific side effects and each patient reacts differently to chemotherapy, both emotionally and physically. Other people might have different ways of surviving chemotherapy, but here is a small list of what is helping me to go through chemotherapy:
- A caring and dedicated support network: husband, family, friends, neighbours, colleagues, acquaintances, nurses, doctors and all healthcare staff. Having emotional support is more important than I ever imagined. This had to be the first one on my list because it is by far the most important.
- Trying not to compare myself to other patients, side effects vary and tolerance to pain and discomfort varies greatly from person to person.
- Drinking plenty of water, and I mean really a lot of water.
- Drinking ginger tea and eating ginger cookies to help with the nausea.
- Eating only what appeals to me and in small amounts, making sure it is a balanced diet.
- Resting, taking naps, sleeping.
- Going for walks every day, avoiding lying down of the sofa all the time.
- Keeping myself informed and planning ahead.
- Keeping a positive attitude and never giving up.
- Accepting the changes, after all, it is only temporary and chemo will help me to live longer.
27 October 2010
Pink explosion
After the C-bomb (cancer) dropped on my life, we have now the P-explosion (pink).
I had enough of Pink October. Breast Cancer Awareness Month should in my opinion be called Cure Breast Cancer Month.
Sometimes I just want to feel normal and not be reminded every minute that I have breast cancer. But it is hard to forget when everywhere you go and everywhere you look there’s something pink. Advertisements in the newspapers and magazines, posters in the tube, little pink ribbons for sale by the till at any shop, pink mugs, pink wigs, pink chocolates, pink perfumes, pink lipsticks, pink socks, pink umbrellas, pink mobile phones, pink coca-cola.., and so on and so on.... It’s an over kill. Even I had a pink moment a while back. Sometimes I have an impression companies are using the Pink October campaign to promote their products more than anything else. Although I am also aware that a lot o companies are genuinely trying to support cancer campaigns and without their support a lot of funds would be lost.
Wouldn’t all this money be better spent on research? I wonder how much funds are raised and how much is actually spent on research. Please find the cause of cancer, a cure for it and patient friendly treatments. I know I am asking a lot, but I do hope we can get it soon.
More than awareness, we need a cure. We need also to learn how to prevent it. Aren’t we all aware of it already? It doesn’t only happen to others (as I naively believed in before) and early detection can save your live (as I hope it will save mine). But even knowing I have a good prognosis I still fear the M-word (metastasis) and the R-word (recurrence) and I wish everyday for someone to find the cure for cancer.
Today I saw a completely pink cab saying “Wear it pink”. I needed a cab but I took the bus instead.
About feeling normal, I have to add that more and more I have the need to feel normal and although I have no problem talking about my cancer and answering any question people might have, I really enjoy the moments when I can talk about other things. The other day I went out with two friends and apart from a comment about my head scarf because they hadn’t seen me without hair yet and I understand my look has changed, we did not talk about cancer. It was so nice not to think about it for a couple of hours.
I had enough of Pink October. Breast Cancer Awareness Month should in my opinion be called Cure Breast Cancer Month.
Sometimes I just want to feel normal and not be reminded every minute that I have breast cancer. But it is hard to forget when everywhere you go and everywhere you look there’s something pink. Advertisements in the newspapers and magazines, posters in the tube, little pink ribbons for sale by the till at any shop, pink mugs, pink wigs, pink chocolates, pink perfumes, pink lipsticks, pink socks, pink umbrellas, pink mobile phones, pink coca-cola.., and so on and so on.... It’s an over kill. Even I had a pink moment a while back. Sometimes I have an impression companies are using the Pink October campaign to promote their products more than anything else. Although I am also aware that a lot o companies are genuinely trying to support cancer campaigns and without their support a lot of funds would be lost.
Wouldn’t all this money be better spent on research? I wonder how much funds are raised and how much is actually spent on research. Please find the cause of cancer, a cure for it and patient friendly treatments. I know I am asking a lot, but I do hope we can get it soon.
More than awareness, we need a cure. We need also to learn how to prevent it. Aren’t we all aware of it already? It doesn’t only happen to others (as I naively believed in before) and early detection can save your live (as I hope it will save mine). But even knowing I have a good prognosis I still fear the M-word (metastasis) and the R-word (recurrence) and I wish everyday for someone to find the cure for cancer.
Today I saw a completely pink cab saying “Wear it pink”. I needed a cab but I took the bus instead.
About feeling normal, I have to add that more and more I have the need to feel normal and although I have no problem talking about my cancer and answering any question people might have, I really enjoy the moments when I can talk about other things. The other day I went out with two friends and apart from a comment about my head scarf because they hadn’t seen me without hair yet and I understand my look has changed, we did not talk about cancer. It was so nice not to think about it for a couple of hours.
Ruining my good mood
I hate chemo! I’ve said this before and it stays true. I simply hate it and I have to admit that it crossed my mind to refuse any further treatments. But I won’t because I am too wise (and no one around me would allow me to that anyway). So, tomorrow I will go to another session very much against my will.
I’ve been feeling so good lately, it is a shame we have to ruin that. I even have small episodes of some kind of anxiety or panic attacks when I think of what is coming. Exaggerating? Me? Nãaaaa...
Plus, the phlebitis remains the same, painful, annoying and uncomfortable and, even worse, my eyebrows are fading away. I give it one, maybe two, more weeks of life, after that I will definitely look like an egg. I really really wish they didn’t fall out. Funny enough, completely unnecessary hair like the hair on my arms hasn’t fallen out yet and there’s no sign of weakness. How come?
Need to go now, I have to go to the clinic for the pre-chemo tests.
I’ve been feeling so good lately, it is a shame we have to ruin that. I even have small episodes of some kind of anxiety or panic attacks when I think of what is coming. Exaggerating? Me? Nãaaaa...
Plus, the phlebitis remains the same, painful, annoying and uncomfortable and, even worse, my eyebrows are fading away. I give it one, maybe two, more weeks of life, after that I will definitely look like an egg. I really really wish they didn’t fall out. Funny enough, completely unnecessary hair like the hair on my arms hasn’t fallen out yet and there’s no sign of weakness. How come?
Need to go now, I have to go to the clinic for the pre-chemo tests.
25 October 2010
St Margaret's at Cliffe, Kent
I had the nicest days in a long time.
We were extremely lucky with the weather, it was very cold but very sunny, with clear blue sky.
I need more breaks like this.
I need more breaks like this.
18 October 2010
Head Insulation
In these last few days, temperatures dropped a lot, one cannot leave the house without a winter coat and a scarf anymore. Since I have lost my natural head insulation, going out is a bit of a drama because the thin scarves I wear do not protect my head from the cold wind. Yesterday I went to Snow & Rock and bought fleece lined beanies and an icebreaker to wear underneath the scarves. I am saved! At night I also started wearing a cap or a hat otherwise I feel so cold I cannot fall asleep. I never thought that not having hair would make me feel so cold.
Tomorrow we are going to the South East, to the seaside, to get some fresh air and relax a bit for a few days. We both desperately need it. The new hats I bought will be very useful to protect my little head from the cold strong coastal wind. I can’t wait to go there and enjoy a long walk on the White Cliffs.
Tomorrow we are going to the South East, to the seaside, to get some fresh air and relax a bit for a few days. We both desperately need it. The new hats I bought will be very useful to protect my little head from the cold strong coastal wind. I can’t wait to go there and enjoy a long walk on the White Cliffs.
Nonya Kaya
Yesterday, on our way to ICA (Institute of Contemporary Arts) to see a Singaporean movie, Sandcastle by director Boo Junfeng, we passed by China Town, where I couldn’t resist going in one of the Chinese supermarkets. In there I found Nonya Kaya, made in Singapore. I love kaya. Most people think it is too sweet, but I just love it. It is a coconut and egg jam, with a hint of pandan, that Singaporeans eat on toast with a thick layer of butter. Even though I know my tummy will not be able to take it for now, I bought two jars. 16 October 2010
London Film Festival
I really liked this movie, "I am Kalam", directed by Nila Madhab Panda.
It is set in Bikaner in Rajasthan, where I have already been (including to the Karni Mata Temple, also known as the rat temple, where rats are believed to be an incarnation of the goddess Durga and wander around freely in the temple).
The characters seem real, the landscapes are beautiful, it is full of colour, has fantastic music and great acting. It is a moving story with a feel good factor. I hope it reaches the commercial distribution soon.
It is set in Bikaner in Rajasthan, where I have already been (including to the Karni Mata Temple, also known as the rat temple, where rats are believed to be an incarnation of the goddess Durga and wander around freely in the temple).
The characters seem real, the landscapes are beautiful, it is full of colour, has fantastic music and great acting. It is a moving story with a feel good factor. I hope it reaches the commercial distribution soon.
14 October 2010
Between the lines
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, in a conversation with the breast surgeon he made a funny mistake. He said: “you will go through a holocaust of emotions”. He immediately corrected it to what he actually meant to say: “a rollercoaster of emotions”. What I thought was just a language mishap seems to me now to have been a warning, letting me know it would be a catastrophic period in my life.
I am probably disappointing a lot of people but the fact is, I am so tired of being unwell that I start to wonder if I can cope with this at all.
“How are you doing?” became a very difficult question to answer for me. I am not ok, but I am not too bad either, I am aware it could be a lot worse. And I never know if you want to hear how I am actually doing or just a brief polite answer. If I told you about every little thing that I am going through, I would either bore you to death or make you cry. Even if I want to project a positive attitude, there’s so much bad stuff going on, I can’t always feel positive.
There’s the pain, the permanent discomfort, the fatigue, the nausea, the bone and joint pain, the horrible headaches, the dozens of pills and injections, the loss of control of my own life, the hair loss and the pity looks, the loss of appetite, the sore mouth, the chest port, the scars, the constant trips to the clinic, the loss of self-esteem, the fear, anxiety, helplessness, uncertainty, sadness, guilt, vulnerability, anger and grief.
I’ve come across statements such as: “Being diagnosed with cancer was one of the best things that happened to me.” I honestly can’t understand how people can feel like this. There is nothing good about cancer. My life was good as it was before, I was happy. I didn’t need cancer to suddenly realise that birds sing and the trees are green, that I have a great family and wonderful friends, that life is worth living. I enjoyed life pre-cancer, no need for cancer or any other serious illness to improve anything in my life.
I’ve only lost things since diagnosis, the biggest loss is time. I am losing a year of my life.
How am I? I am looking forward to 2011.
I am probably disappointing a lot of people but the fact is, I am so tired of being unwell that I start to wonder if I can cope with this at all.
“How are you doing?” became a very difficult question to answer for me. I am not ok, but I am not too bad either, I am aware it could be a lot worse. And I never know if you want to hear how I am actually doing or just a brief polite answer. If I told you about every little thing that I am going through, I would either bore you to death or make you cry. Even if I want to project a positive attitude, there’s so much bad stuff going on, I can’t always feel positive.
There’s the pain, the permanent discomfort, the fatigue, the nausea, the bone and joint pain, the horrible headaches, the dozens of pills and injections, the loss of control of my own life, the hair loss and the pity looks, the loss of appetite, the sore mouth, the chest port, the scars, the constant trips to the clinic, the loss of self-esteem, the fear, anxiety, helplessness, uncertainty, sadness, guilt, vulnerability, anger and grief.
I’ve come across statements such as: “Being diagnosed with cancer was one of the best things that happened to me.” I honestly can’t understand how people can feel like this. There is nothing good about cancer. My life was good as it was before, I was happy. I didn’t need cancer to suddenly realise that birds sing and the trees are green, that I have a great family and wonderful friends, that life is worth living. I enjoyed life pre-cancer, no need for cancer or any other serious illness to improve anything in my life.
I’ve only lost things since diagnosis, the biggest loss is time. I am losing a year of my life.
How am I? I am looking forward to 2011.
12 October 2010
Oh no, I’ve lost my appetite!
Terrible, unexpected, serious! Me, not hungry? Not enjoying food? Something must be wrong! Oh, yes, I almost forgot, chemo, of course.
It is so weird not to feel hungry and not enjoying what I eat.
In the morning it takes me more than half an hour to finish my porridge, one small spoon at the time, slowly, slowly. Then comes lunch, oh no, time for food again. And then tea time and then dinner. It is amazing how much we eat in a day.
My mouth is sore, my taste buds are kind of dormant, my tummy is funny and I don’t feel hungry. In fact, I feel sick.
The idea of going to a nice restaurant for a good meal doesn’t appeal to me anymore. I can even say no to ice-cream and chocolate. This is so unusual.
The normal me loves food, cooking (eating more than cooking, I admit!), recipe books, kitchen gadgets, big kitchens, cookware shops, watching cookery programmes, talking about food, trying new things and going out for dinner. I want the normal me back!
At the end of this “cancer era” there will be a big banquet which will not include beetroot.
It is so weird not to feel hungry and not enjoying what I eat.
In the morning it takes me more than half an hour to finish my porridge, one small spoon at the time, slowly, slowly. Then comes lunch, oh no, time for food again. And then tea time and then dinner. It is amazing how much we eat in a day.
My mouth is sore, my taste buds are kind of dormant, my tummy is funny and I don’t feel hungry. In fact, I feel sick.
The idea of going to a nice restaurant for a good meal doesn’t appeal to me anymore. I can even say no to ice-cream and chocolate. This is so unusual.
The normal me loves food, cooking (eating more than cooking, I admit!), recipe books, kitchen gadgets, big kitchens, cookware shops, watching cookery programmes, talking about food, trying new things and going out for dinner. I want the normal me back!
At the end of this “cancer era” there will be a big banquet which will not include beetroot.
Dreamer
Faye Wong's Cantonese version of Dreams by Cranberries
I liked the movie, Chungking Express, and I like this song, reminds me of Asia :)
11 October 2010
Only child for a while
When we were little girls and my father was away travelling, we used to climb into my mother’s bed, early in the morning. We always had to fight to see who would lie down next to her, we are three sisters and my mother only has two sides, so we knew one of us would always lose. We would also prepare her breakfast, poor mamã, burnt toasts with too much butter and watery coffee! It was probably not a very relaxing awakening for her. But a lot of fun for us.
 |
| Enjoying the sun in the garden, yesterday. |
I thought of these moments yesterday, when my mother left to go back to Portugal. She came before chemo started to keep me company, help me and make sure I am ok. It was so nice to have her just for myself, no need divide her attention or fight to see who sits next to her. Nowadays I have to compete with my nephews more than with my sisters for her attention, eh eh! I don’t mind loosing against them, they are so irresistibly cute.
09 October 2010
3 down, 3 more to go
Said like this it sounds like I am half way, but considering the time it takes me to recover from each session, I feel I still have a long way to go.
This session was the last of the FEC regimen. Next I will have 3 sessions of T (Taxotere).
Thursday’s session was in many ways different from the previous ones. To start with I had to be at The Harley Street Clinic at 7am to have the port implanted in my chest. It is a simple procedure, but added to the stress of having a chemo session on that same day, it made me very stressed and anxious.
I had the choice of having general or local anaesthesia. The idea of being able to hear and see part of what is going on in the operating room, made me go for the local anaesthesia. Also because the recovery is much faster. I think I fell asleep for a while during the procedure, but I still remember quite a lot. The most exciting moment was when the fire alarm rang, no one even moved and just continued with their work. I asked what the normal procedure in these cases was. Before evacuating, they first wait to be informed where the fire is located and to be instructed to leave the operating room and when possible they do so, carrying the patient with them obviously. Luckily it was just someone’s toast that got a bit burnt in the kitchen. As the lifts were not working for a while, one of the nurses kept me company until he could take me back to my room, on the 4th floor. Once again, I only have good things to say about all medical staff I have encountered so far: excellent dedicated people.
Back in the room I found two sleepy heads, S. and my mother, poor creatures, going through all this with me. The room was great, spacious and new. I had the chemo in the room and not at the day unit as before. It was more quiet and I had more privacy which after even a small procedure is very pleasant.
About one hour after the surgery I got dressed with my own clothes, covered my naked head and waited for the chemo nurse. Having a port is actually very practical, there was no need to look for a cooperative vein, and the drugs can be administered a lot faster. Half way the treatment I was already starting to feel a bit funny. But it all went well.
The port is hardly visible, just a discrete bump on my chest. I have two small scars, one on the chest (though which the port was put in, under the skin) and one on the neck (through which the catheter was inserted in the vein). I hope they will disappear with time, I feel I am collecting scars!
Around 3.30pm I was discharged and went home feeling reasonably ok. At the end of the afternoon I felt horribly nauseous and didn’t manage to eat anything of the delicious meal S. had prepared. Before 9pm I was already in bed.
Friday was a good day, I woke up early and feeling pretty good.
J.’s visits are always pleasant but this last one made my taste buds happy. She brought bouchons form the Cup Cake Company. Very nice! Even with a funny tummy I enjoyed it. Afterwards, to get some sun and make my legs move a bit, we went for a long walk. Friday was a good day.
Today I feel as bad as I normally do after each chemo: headache, nausea, throbbing ear vein, no appetite, some pain and discomfort and excessively tired.
This time I got a lot more anti-sickness pills than the previous times and I just hope they work, because I really hate feeling like this.
This session was the last of the FEC regimen. Next I will have 3 sessions of T (Taxotere).
Thursday’s session was in many ways different from the previous ones. To start with I had to be at The Harley Street Clinic at 7am to have the port implanted in my chest. It is a simple procedure, but added to the stress of having a chemo session on that same day, it made me very stressed and anxious.
I had the choice of having general or local anaesthesia. The idea of being able to hear and see part of what is going on in the operating room, made me go for the local anaesthesia. Also because the recovery is much faster. I think I fell asleep for a while during the procedure, but I still remember quite a lot. The most exciting moment was when the fire alarm rang, no one even moved and just continued with their work. I asked what the normal procedure in these cases was. Before evacuating, they first wait to be informed where the fire is located and to be instructed to leave the operating room and when possible they do so, carrying the patient with them obviously. Luckily it was just someone’s toast that got a bit burnt in the kitchen. As the lifts were not working for a while, one of the nurses kept me company until he could take me back to my room, on the 4th floor. Once again, I only have good things to say about all medical staff I have encountered so far: excellent dedicated people.
Back in the room I found two sleepy heads, S. and my mother, poor creatures, going through all this with me. The room was great, spacious and new. I had the chemo in the room and not at the day unit as before. It was more quiet and I had more privacy which after even a small procedure is very pleasant.
About one hour after the surgery I got dressed with my own clothes, covered my naked head and waited for the chemo nurse. Having a port is actually very practical, there was no need to look for a cooperative vein, and the drugs can be administered a lot faster. Half way the treatment I was already starting to feel a bit funny. But it all went well.
The port is hardly visible, just a discrete bump on my chest. I have two small scars, one on the chest (though which the port was put in, under the skin) and one on the neck (through which the catheter was inserted in the vein). I hope they will disappear with time, I feel I am collecting scars!
Around 3.30pm I was discharged and went home feeling reasonably ok. At the end of the afternoon I felt horribly nauseous and didn’t manage to eat anything of the delicious meal S. had prepared. Before 9pm I was already in bed.
Friday was a good day, I woke up early and feeling pretty good.
J.’s visits are always pleasant but this last one made my taste buds happy. She brought bouchons form the Cup Cake Company. Very nice! Even with a funny tummy I enjoyed it. Afterwards, to get some sun and make my legs move a bit, we went for a long walk. Friday was a good day.
Today I feel as bad as I normally do after each chemo: headache, nausea, throbbing ear vein, no appetite, some pain and discomfort and excessively tired.
This time I got a lot more anti-sickness pills than the previous times and I just hope they work, because I really hate feeling like this.
08 October 2010
Portugal, on the Medical Map
By RAPHAEL MINDER
The New York Times
Published: September 8, 2010
LISBON — Thanks to €500 million inherited from its richest man, Portugal will unveil a medical research center next month that could put it at the forefront of advances against cancer.
The Champalimaud Center for the Unknown, based in Lisbon, will focus on cancer research, as well as run a neuroscience program. It marks a significant change for a nation of 11 million people with no history of scientific eminence, and founders hope it will encourage more researchers to work in Europe rather than the United States.
“No stone has been left unturned to make this one of the world’s top cancer research centers,” said Raghu Kalluri, a professor of medicine at Harvard University who is director of the Champalimaud cancer center. “We’ve recently been seeing people returning from the U.S. to India and China in waves, but the same thing should now happen in Lisbon, because this place is really designed to attract the best worldwide.”
Just as unusual for Europe is the philanthropy behind the project. António Champalimaud displayed business acumen but little public charity during his lifetime. When he died in 2004, however, he allocated in his will a quarter of his wealth to medical research, with a person almost unknown to him left in charge of disbursing the money.
Mr. Champalimaud’s donation was “a huge surprise for everybody in Portugal,” said Leonor Beleza, who was picked by Mr. Champalimaud to lead his foundation.
While American research has long benefited from such private donations, most of the financing in Europe has come from governments or pharmaceutical companies.
In Germany, for instance, the Max Planck Society relies exclusively on public financing, while the country’s other leading research institute, the Fraunhofer Society, gets its money evenly split from the public and business.
In the United States, meanwhile, the financial crisis has hurt financing but has also led to initiatives to encourage private giving. Last month, 40 wealthy American families and individuals agreed to join Bill Gates, the Microsoft co-founder, and Warren Buffett, the investor, in a pledge to give at least half their wealth to charity.
“My grandfather always felt the American spirit of giving back to society was something to follow,” said Rodrigo Champalimaud, who works in finance and, like the rest of his family, is not involved in the foundation. “Unfortunately, Europeans aren’t used to giving as much, and I’m sure that he wanted to change that.”
The center will be inaugurated on Oct. 5 but will start operating only next year, gradually filling to a capacity of 500 researchers working alongside 100 physicians handling about 300 patients daily. That level of interaction is what the center’s backers claim will be unique, an approach also welcomed by other independent researchers.
“Significant cancer research initiatives have been taken in recent years in countries like Spain, France and Germany, but I feel none of them have had the impact that they should have,” said Axel Ullrich, a German cancer researcher who is director of the Max Planck Institute of Biochemistry. “One reason for this failure is that these institutes have been doing the basic research but are frequently not really focused on therapy development.
“Lisbon is now not the center of science in the world, but it could make it if this is managed well.”
Meanwhile, Christopher Wild, director of the International Agency for Research on Cancer, noted that Portugal was the only country in Western Europe not to be a participant in his agency, itself part of the World Health Organization. “This center hopefully will prove a new focus point in Portugal to draw in international cooperation, including our own,” he said.
Although the Portuguese authorities provided the land to build the center (in a spectacular location at the mouth of the Tagus River), the foundation has otherwise maintained independence and not sought any public or additional private money. That autonomy has arguably led to some unorthodox approaches. For example, the foundation chose an acclaimed architect, Charles Correa, but without running a competition for such an ambitious construction project, costing €100 million, about $127 million.
Instead, Ms. Beleza was impressed by a research facility built by Mr. Correa at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Mr. Correa is also Indian of Portuguese descent. “We felt that he could relate to the exact place from where Portugal’s great discovery ships had left,” she said, pointing to the neighboring 16th-century tower of Belém.
Ms. Beleza spent four years as her country’s health minister in the 1980s. But she studied law rather than medicine and then coupled her political career with teaching law at a local university.
So she said she was stunned when she received a phone call in 2000 from Mr. Champalimaud, whom she had met only once, asking her if she might run a medical foundation. She agreed, but then never heard from him again — until the opening of his will.
Ms. Beleza then took more than a year to immerse herself back in the medical world, touring laboratories, meeting researchers and studying scientific data before deciding how to spend Mr. Champalimaud’s money.
With only a single phone call to prepare her, Ms. Beleza also tried to second-guess Mr. Champalimaud’s intentions. His father was a doctor, but his will provided no indication as to why he wanted to promote medicine. “It was up to him to tell me more if he had wanted to,” Ms. Beleza said. “The only thing that’s clear is that he was a man of action who created things and made them work.”
Mr. Champalimaud began his career in a cement business owned by his mother’s family. He went on to build Portugal’s most powerful financial and industrial empire — twice, in fact, because his companies were nationalized a year after Portugal’s 1974 revolution, forcing him to resettle in Brazil and start afresh there.
Using his Brazilian earnings, he then returned to Portugal to buy back his companies in the 1990s before finally dismantling his financial empire by selling his banking assets to Santander, Spain’s leading bank, in a controversial deal that the government tried — ultimately unsuccessfully — to block on the ground of national interest.
The Lisbon center’s inauguration will be led by José Sócrates, Portugal’s prime minister.
Underlining the national importance of the Champalimaud project, the government also requested that the center’s opening coincide with the 100th anniversary of Portugal’s becoming a republic.
However, and given past tensions between politicians and Mr. Champalimaud, Ms. Beleza insisted in an interview that she had not bowed to political pressure over the construction deadline. On a sweltering afternoon in late August, about 1,000 workers were still carrying beams and pouring cement around the site. “They’ve recently been working until midnight, as well as Saturdays and Sundays, so that’s how we will be ready,” Ms. Beleza said.
Meanwhile, Ms. Beleza is getting more calls from wealthy people wanting to hear about Mr. Champalimaud’s contribution, making her hopeful that the center can set a new benchmark for European medical philanthropy.
“The United States is still pretty far ahead of the rest of the world in terms of having philanthropy behind such ventures,” Dr. Kalluri of Harvard said. “What António Champalimaud did is already getting noticed across Europe, and hopefully other wealthy individuals will want to do the same. This is exactly how things happened in the United States: somebody has to set an example and set things in motion.”
The New York Times
Published: September 8, 2010
LISBON — Thanks to €500 million inherited from its richest man, Portugal will unveil a medical research center next month that could put it at the forefront of advances against cancer.
The Champalimaud Center for the Unknown, based in Lisbon, will focus on cancer research, as well as run a neuroscience program. It marks a significant change for a nation of 11 million people with no history of scientific eminence, and founders hope it will encourage more researchers to work in Europe rather than the United States.
“No stone has been left unturned to make this one of the world’s top cancer research centers,” said Raghu Kalluri, a professor of medicine at Harvard University who is director of the Champalimaud cancer center. “We’ve recently been seeing people returning from the U.S. to India and China in waves, but the same thing should now happen in Lisbon, because this place is really designed to attract the best worldwide.”
Just as unusual for Europe is the philanthropy behind the project. António Champalimaud displayed business acumen but little public charity during his lifetime. When he died in 2004, however, he allocated in his will a quarter of his wealth to medical research, with a person almost unknown to him left in charge of disbursing the money.
Mr. Champalimaud’s donation was “a huge surprise for everybody in Portugal,” said Leonor Beleza, who was picked by Mr. Champalimaud to lead his foundation.
While American research has long benefited from such private donations, most of the financing in Europe has come from governments or pharmaceutical companies.
In Germany, for instance, the Max Planck Society relies exclusively on public financing, while the country’s other leading research institute, the Fraunhofer Society, gets its money evenly split from the public and business.
In the United States, meanwhile, the financial crisis has hurt financing but has also led to initiatives to encourage private giving. Last month, 40 wealthy American families and individuals agreed to join Bill Gates, the Microsoft co-founder, and Warren Buffett, the investor, in a pledge to give at least half their wealth to charity.
“My grandfather always felt the American spirit of giving back to society was something to follow,” said Rodrigo Champalimaud, who works in finance and, like the rest of his family, is not involved in the foundation. “Unfortunately, Europeans aren’t used to giving as much, and I’m sure that he wanted to change that.”
The center will be inaugurated on Oct. 5 but will start operating only next year, gradually filling to a capacity of 500 researchers working alongside 100 physicians handling about 300 patients daily. That level of interaction is what the center’s backers claim will be unique, an approach also welcomed by other independent researchers.
“Significant cancer research initiatives have been taken in recent years in countries like Spain, France and Germany, but I feel none of them have had the impact that they should have,” said Axel Ullrich, a German cancer researcher who is director of the Max Planck Institute of Biochemistry. “One reason for this failure is that these institutes have been doing the basic research but are frequently not really focused on therapy development.
“Lisbon is now not the center of science in the world, but it could make it if this is managed well.”
Meanwhile, Christopher Wild, director of the International Agency for Research on Cancer, noted that Portugal was the only country in Western Europe not to be a participant in his agency, itself part of the World Health Organization. “This center hopefully will prove a new focus point in Portugal to draw in international cooperation, including our own,” he said.
Although the Portuguese authorities provided the land to build the center (in a spectacular location at the mouth of the Tagus River), the foundation has otherwise maintained independence and not sought any public or additional private money. That autonomy has arguably led to some unorthodox approaches. For example, the foundation chose an acclaimed architect, Charles Correa, but without running a competition for such an ambitious construction project, costing €100 million, about $127 million.
Instead, Ms. Beleza was impressed by a research facility built by Mr. Correa at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Mr. Correa is also Indian of Portuguese descent. “We felt that he could relate to the exact place from where Portugal’s great discovery ships had left,” she said, pointing to the neighboring 16th-century tower of Belém.
Ms. Beleza spent four years as her country’s health minister in the 1980s. But she studied law rather than medicine and then coupled her political career with teaching law at a local university.
So she said she was stunned when she received a phone call in 2000 from Mr. Champalimaud, whom she had met only once, asking her if she might run a medical foundation. She agreed, but then never heard from him again — until the opening of his will.
Ms. Beleza then took more than a year to immerse herself back in the medical world, touring laboratories, meeting researchers and studying scientific data before deciding how to spend Mr. Champalimaud’s money.
With only a single phone call to prepare her, Ms. Beleza also tried to second-guess Mr. Champalimaud’s intentions. His father was a doctor, but his will provided no indication as to why he wanted to promote medicine. “It was up to him to tell me more if he had wanted to,” Ms. Beleza said. “The only thing that’s clear is that he was a man of action who created things and made them work.”
Mr. Champalimaud began his career in a cement business owned by his mother’s family. He went on to build Portugal’s most powerful financial and industrial empire — twice, in fact, because his companies were nationalized a year after Portugal’s 1974 revolution, forcing him to resettle in Brazil and start afresh there.
Using his Brazilian earnings, he then returned to Portugal to buy back his companies in the 1990s before finally dismantling his financial empire by selling his banking assets to Santander, Spain’s leading bank, in a controversial deal that the government tried — ultimately unsuccessfully — to block on the ground of national interest.
The Lisbon center’s inauguration will be led by José Sócrates, Portugal’s prime minister.
Underlining the national importance of the Champalimaud project, the government also requested that the center’s opening coincide with the 100th anniversary of Portugal’s becoming a republic.
However, and given past tensions between politicians and Mr. Champalimaud, Ms. Beleza insisted in an interview that she had not bowed to political pressure over the construction deadline. On a sweltering afternoon in late August, about 1,000 workers were still carrying beams and pouring cement around the site. “They’ve recently been working until midnight, as well as Saturdays and Sundays, so that’s how we will be ready,” Ms. Beleza said.
Meanwhile, Ms. Beleza is getting more calls from wealthy people wanting to hear about Mr. Champalimaud’s contribution, making her hopeful that the center can set a new benchmark for European medical philanthropy.
“The United States is still pretty far ahead of the rest of the world in terms of having philanthropy behind such ventures,” Dr. Kalluri of Harvard said. “What António Champalimaud did is already getting noticed across Europe, and hopefully other wealthy individuals will want to do the same. This is exactly how things happened in the United States: somebody has to set an example and set things in motion.”
Grow, dammit, grow!
When I first saw the front page of The Economist this morning, I thought it was dedicated to me :)
07 October 2010
Glass half full vs glass half empty
S. said: Great, just three sessions to go!
I thought: Oh dear, still three more sessions to go!
I thought: Oh dear, still three more sessions to go!
06 October 2010
Science 1 - Religion 0
Robert Edwards was on Monday awarded the 2010 Nobel Prize for medicine, in recognition of his work on in vitro fertilisation which revolutionised efforts to tackle infertility around the world.
Now more than ever I think it is great news.
However, it didn’t surprise me at all that the Vatican immediately criticised the decision to award him the prize claiming his work had created a market for human eggs and created problems of embryos being frozen.
What is surprising is that this statement came from an outdated institution that believes in immaculate conception!
Now more than ever I think it is great news.
However, it didn’t surprise me at all that the Vatican immediately criticised the decision to award him the prize claiming his work had created a market for human eggs and created problems of embryos being frozen.
What is surprising is that this statement came from an outdated institution that believes in immaculate conception!
05 October 2010
Phlebitis: the sequel
Today I had to go back to the clinic because my arm was getting worse. The phlebitis has spread into my hand and upper arm. It is painful, a bruise-like kind of pain that was worrying me and making me restless. My veins are hard and brownish-purple and I have a swelling on my wrist which hurts quite a lot.
I was seen by a doctor who confirmed my arm veins cannot be used for the treatment, it would only increase the irritation causing more pain and discomfort.
As I feared, I will have a port surgically implanted in my chest under the skin. Thursday early in the morning I will be once again under anaesthesia and will have it implanted. One more scar, one more annoyance. I will then have the chemo drugs administered through the port on the same day.
An implantable port is a plastic tube (a catheter) that is put in the chest into a large vein just above the heart and that connects to an opening (a port) which sits just under the skin. The port will be left in place until the end of the chemotherapy treatments and a small discrete bump will be visible underneath the skin.
I am not very happy about this, but not too worried either. It’s just a hiccup along the way.
I was seen by a doctor who confirmed my arm veins cannot be used for the treatment, it would only increase the irritation causing more pain and discomfort.
As I feared, I will have a port surgically implanted in my chest under the skin. Thursday early in the morning I will be once again under anaesthesia and will have it implanted. One more scar, one more annoyance. I will then have the chemo drugs administered through the port on the same day.
An implantable port is a plastic tube (a catheter) that is put in the chest into a large vein just above the heart and that connects to an opening (a port) which sits just under the skin. The port will be left in place until the end of the chemotherapy treatments and a small discrete bump will be visible underneath the skin.
I am not very happy about this, but not too worried either. It’s just a hiccup along the way.
04 October 2010
Pre-chemo anxiety
I can’t hide that I am extremely anxious about it, so much I can’t even relax and enjoy these last few days of “freedom”. I wake up thinking about it, go to bed thinking about it and I even dream about it. I wish someone would just hit me hard in the head with a pan and leave me unconscious throughout all this.
I know what expects me next week: extreme nausea, heavy headaches, fatigue, bone pain, sore mouth, etc, etc. I’ll be a useless couch potato for a week again. Something so unpleasant can’t do me any good, right?
On top of this, the phlebitis did not improve, in fact it has spread to my hand and upper arm and it is not only painful but worrying. If the nurses cannot use my right arm (due to the surgery) and my left arm is like this, how are they going to administer the treatment? I don’t want a central line put in, it would mean another anaesthesia and delaying the chemo session. And one thing I am finding hard to deal with is the time the whole treatment is taking, so a delay would be a disaster for me. But, here I am, speculating, I have no idea what is going to happen so why worry so much?
I know these fears are irrational, my overall experience so far has been acceptable, some patients experience a lot heavier side effects and I shouldn’t complain so much. Positive thinking, positive thinking...
Luckily there’s one thing I am looking forward to this week. As part of my pre-chemo cultural agenda, Wednesday evening we are going to Sadler’s Wells to see Akram Khan’s latest work, Vertical Road. It will keep my mind off of the chemo on chemo eve!
Dry Skin Brushing
I learned about dry skin brushing recently, I had never heard of it before, and now it is something I do every day. It is recommended to stimulate lymph and blood circulation for the removal of impurities under the skin surface. Dry skin brushing improves circulation, aids in detoxification, removes dead skin layers and increases cell renewal, improves skin softness and quality, and strengthens immune system.
I brush before taking a shower, brushing with long light sweeping strokes starting from the bottom of my feet upwards, and from the hands towards the shoulders, on the torso in an upward direction towards the hart, circular strokes on the abdomen and down from the neck.
I brush before taking a shower, brushing with long light sweeping strokes starting from the bottom of my feet upwards, and from the hands towards the shoulders, on the torso in an upward direction towards the hart, circular strokes on the abdomen and down from the neck.
I can’t guarantee it works, but it does feel good.
01 October 2010
Wigs versus scarves
In preparation for the hair loss, before chemo started I went to some wig shops and tried several wigs. In one of the shops I narrowed down the options to four different wigs, the ones I thought I would be able to wear. But every time I went wig shopping, I felt depressed, the idea of having to wear one made me sad and angry. I decided I didn’t want one and that I would wear a scarf.
When my hair started falling out I had it shaved off and immediately started wearing scarves. It is emotionally very difficult to accept I have no hair and to be looked at on the streets, shops and restaurants. I got used to the scarves and I have no problem at all wearing them. I feel normal and most of the times I almost forget I have one on.
More and more people ask me why I don’t wear a wig, and tell me I would look better and more “normal”. What I can’t explain is that I do not feel normal with a wig on. I feel like I am pretending something and it makes me feel strange.
I have a wig but I am not sure I will ever wear it. This week I made an appointment at the wig shop I liked the most and went there with S. and my mother. From the four wigs I had chosen the first time I went there, I bought one with a similar hair cut I had before chemo, a bob style, same hair colour as my original hair. It actually looks very good. I even think it looks much better than my usual hair because it is always combed and neat. I haven’t worn it outside yet, I can’t get used to it. I look in the mirror and I know it is me with a wig on. By now everyone knows I am going through chemo, so why pretend I have hair? I feel it was a waste of money. I hope I can donate it to charity one day.
If I was working I would most likely wear it, it would be easier for other people and less distracting. But to go to Waitrose, museums, walks in the park, etc I don’t see the point.
Maybe I should wear it more often at home to get used to it. The truth is, a scarf is easy and fun to wear and it makes me feel like myself.
Why am I so averse to wearing a wig? I can’t explain it.
When my hair started falling out I had it shaved off and immediately started wearing scarves. It is emotionally very difficult to accept I have no hair and to be looked at on the streets, shops and restaurants. I got used to the scarves and I have no problem at all wearing them. I feel normal and most of the times I almost forget I have one on.
More and more people ask me why I don’t wear a wig, and tell me I would look better and more “normal”. What I can’t explain is that I do not feel normal with a wig on. I feel like I am pretending something and it makes me feel strange.
I have a wig but I am not sure I will ever wear it. This week I made an appointment at the wig shop I liked the most and went there with S. and my mother. From the four wigs I had chosen the first time I went there, I bought one with a similar hair cut I had before chemo, a bob style, same hair colour as my original hair. It actually looks very good. I even think it looks much better than my usual hair because it is always combed and neat. I haven’t worn it outside yet, I can’t get used to it. I look in the mirror and I know it is me with a wig on. By now everyone knows I am going through chemo, so why pretend I have hair? I feel it was a waste of money. I hope I can donate it to charity one day.
If I was working I would most likely wear it, it would be easier for other people and less distracting. But to go to Waitrose, museums, walks in the park, etc I don’t see the point.
Maybe I should wear it more often at home to get used to it. The truth is, a scarf is easy and fun to wear and it makes me feel like myself.
Why am I so averse to wearing a wig? I can’t explain it.
Known and Suspected Carcinogens
A carcinogen is a substance or exposure that can lead to cancer. Most cancers are, directly or indirectly, linked to environmental factors and thus are preventable.
This document: http://monographs.iarc.fr/ENG/Classification/ClassificationsGroupOrder.pdf from the International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC) (http://www.iarc.fr/) is worth reading.
The IARC Monographs identify environmental factors that can increase the risk of human cancer. These include chemicals, complex mixtures, occupational exposures, physical agents, biological agents, and lifestyle factors. Since 1971, more than 900 agents have been evaluated, of which approximately 400 have been identified as carcinogenic, probably carcinogenic, or possibly carcinogenic to humans.
Group 1 Carcinogenic to humans
Group 2 A Probably carcinogenic to humans
Group 2B Possibly carcinogenic to humans
Group 3 Not classifiable as to its carcinogenicity to humans
Group 4 Probably not carcinogenic to humans
The use of certain substances has already been banned and several guidelines have been published to help prevent the exposure to carcinogens. EU regulations make it mandatory to supply information and labelling of the product by the manufacturers and suppliers in what concerns chemical substances.
Despite this I feel that there is still lack of public awareness about carcinogenic substances present in products we use daily and maybe more should be done to increase knowledge that would allow each one of us to opt to use alternative products when possible.
This document: http://monographs.iarc.fr/ENG/Classification/ClassificationsGroupOrder.pdf from the International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC) (http://www.iarc.fr/) is worth reading.
The IARC Monographs identify environmental factors that can increase the risk of human cancer. These include chemicals, complex mixtures, occupational exposures, physical agents, biological agents, and lifestyle factors. Since 1971, more than 900 agents have been evaluated, of which approximately 400 have been identified as carcinogenic, probably carcinogenic, or possibly carcinogenic to humans.
Group 1 Carcinogenic to humans
Group 2 A Probably carcinogenic to humans
Group 2B Possibly carcinogenic to humans
Group 3 Not classifiable as to its carcinogenicity to humans
Group 4 Probably not carcinogenic to humans
The use of certain substances has already been banned and several guidelines have been published to help prevent the exposure to carcinogens. EU regulations make it mandatory to supply information and labelling of the product by the manufacturers and suppliers in what concerns chemical substances.
Despite this I feel that there is still lack of public awareness about carcinogenic substances present in products we use daily and maybe more should be done to increase knowledge that would allow each one of us to opt to use alternative products when possible.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)