3 Keys To Cancer Survival by Joan Reeves

Has cancer touched your life? It has mine. Just about everyone in my husband's family has died from a form of cancer.

Today, I want to talk to you about something that might help save your life or the life of someone you love. Please read and share.

Update

I posted this on my own blog last week as I waited for my brother-in-law's surgery to be completed. I think this information is so important, that I'm copying my post here.

My brother-in-law survived his second cancer surgery which took almost 9 hours--9 hours of waiting in agony and prayer for the outcome.

Lessons to Take to Heart

I want to tell you his story because there are 3 important lessons to learn from the nightmare he has lived since January 2014. He fought bravely in a battle that began 2 days after he retired when he went to see the doctor for a problem that had plagued him all year. That day changed his life because he was diagnosed with Stage 4 Esophageal Cancer.

Before cancer, he was a big strong man who loved life. After a year of fighting, he's lost a hundred pounds and is weak, but his spirit remains strong.

The Cancer Treatment Journey

First, he had radiation and months of chemo. Then came the surgery. They literally removed his esophagus and part of his stomach. Then they "pulled" his stomach up to create a new esophagus. He spent a long time in ICU afterwards. Nothing by mouth since the day before the surgery until weeks after it when they did a swallow test. It should be called a "leak" test because that's what they were looking for: to see if everything patched together held up. He passed.

To his dismay, his oncologist told him he'd have to have another 6 months of chemo. By the time he went back for his final oncology appointment, he was weak but excited that the ordeal would be over.

Except it wasn't. The CT scan showed something on his 11th vertebra. The MRI the next day revealed a new cancer. A tumor had grown inside the 11th vertebra and destroyed it. He'd been complaining to his wife about his sides hurting. The doctor told him he had been living with the equivalent of a broken back.

The biopsy was this past Saturday. After getting the results, the doctor and his team created a surgery plan. That's what was happening as I wrote this post. The tumor was removed along with anything left of the vertebra which the doctor described as "jelly." They also removed the last rib in back on the right side. He's been in ICU since he left the operating room last Thursday. Next will come more chemo. He can have no more radiation. He's reached the lifetime limit for it.

All of this brings me to the point of today's post.

3 Things To Know That May Save Your Life

1. Listen to your body.

When something is wrong with your body, it gives you hints. Sometimes they're subtle. Sometimes they scream. If something is "off" or feels out of the ordinary, and this something continues more than a couple of weeks, pay attention. Your body is trying to send you a message.

Do you know the early warning signs that may signal cancer? There are many variations of this list, but basically, they are:

• New lumps or growths on your skin
• A sore or bruise that does not heal
• A mole that changes in shape, size or colour or bleeds in unusual circumstances
• An ongoing cough or hoarseness that last longer than three weeks
• Indigestion or difficulty in swallowing
• A change in bowel or bladder habits for no good reason
• Shortness of breath
• Loss of appetite
• Unexplained weight loss or tiredness
• Blood anywhere it normally shouldn't be – urine, bowel, spitting.

My brother-in-law had developed difficulty in swallowing. He waited several months before mentioning it to his doctor. Then his doctor gave him the easy answer rather than sending him to a gastroenterologist.

Most recently, the left and right sides of his back around his waist started aching. He didn't say anything to his oncologist because he thought it was just that he was so tired and had been in bed for so long. Also, he had fallen several times because he was weak. That ache started 3 months ago.

2. If you think something is wrong, talk to a doctor who specializes in that party of the body.

My brother-in-law talked to his family doctor about it. The general practitioner said, "Oh, that's nothing. We can fix that with diet and acid-reflux medication."

There's a reason the phrase "second opinion" was created. Do not hesitate to seek another opinion. Especially if you feel any iota of concern.

When we think something is wrong, we just want someone to assure us that it's not. That's the easy answer we all want. BUT, with cancer, you want the hard answer--the one that comes from a specialist who deals with problems associated with your particular issue, not a general practitioner who probably isn't familiar with subtle warning signs various cancers create.

3. When you know you'll be facing surgery/chemo/radiation, assemble your own team that will help you survive. Just as the surgeon assembles his team, you do the same--finding people who can come and keep the patient company during the week--especially at meal times. This is especially true if the patient is a man because men don't reach out for support the way women do.

When the patient is finally home after surgery, he or she needs someone there on a regular basis who will push the patient to eat even if they say they're not hungry or everything tastes bad. The team member must speak hope and optimism and healing and give the patient a vision of the future that will surely be achieved.

A team member should also listen carefully to the survivor. If he's complaining about something several times, then there's something there that must be addressed. Unfortunately, when you're around someone who is going through an ordeal involving pain and serious medical treatment, it gets too easy to turn a deaf ear to what seems to be chronic aches and pains. You need to really listen and sort through what's being said. 

Chemo, radiation, and surgery are the most debilitating events anyone will ever go through. They affect you physically, emotionally, and mentally. Some people think it takes a village to raise a child, but I know it takes a village to survive cancer treatment.

Donation Smarts
 
Take care of your health. Donate to cancer research. Charity Watch rates charities to see where the money actually goes. Click Cancer to find the best organizations that use your money for research, not expense accounts, salaries, etc.

Where Do Our Story Ideas Come From? -- by Vonnie Davis

Writers get asked this question--or something similar--all the time. And why not? A peek into a creative mind can be interesting. I'd like to ask Bob Dylan how he composed memorable lyrics to create awesome protest songs or Beethoven why certain notes gifted us with timeless masterpieces. Imagine having the artist Monet explain how he chose certain colors and brush strokes to paint his beautiful flowers. I could chat for hours with Shakespeare or Walt Whitman or Carly Simon. So when someone asks me where my stories come from, I am both humbled and a shade embarrassed. Humbled that anyone would want even a tiny peek into how my mind works...and quite embarrassed to explain how it does.

Three years ago, I noticed a pea-sized lump in my left jaw where my upper and lower jaws connect. Odd, I thought. I can feel the jaw joint on this side of my face, but not on the other. About a month later, this lump had doubled in size, and I began to have some concern. Then headaches started, along with a constant earache on that side of my head. So I called my general practitioner. Upon examination, he claimed the lump was closing my left eye too. An MRI showed I had a grape-sized cyst in my saliva gland. Surgery was scheduled to remove it.

The surgeon claimed, "A simple four-hour operation with an incision starting behind my ear, coming over the top of my ear, along the front of the ear and my cheek, over my jaw bone and three inches down my neck to remove the cyst and I'd be good as new."


Chances of it being cancerous? Nil

Recovery time? A week.

The cyst was cancerous. Recovery time? Eight months. Was I sold a bill of goods, or what?

My recovery required returning to the doctor every other day to have fluid drained from my face and neck. I looked like an ogre. And felt as if I'd never heal. You see, they'd cut off three-fourths of my salivary gland and it was, to quote the surgeon, "angry as hell and shooting out spit, thus the constant fluid build-up." Well, gee, thanks for mentioning that possibility. Or that my left cheek and ear would forever be numb.

But enough complaining. After all, I am cancer free--and very lucky. By now, you're asking what does this long tale have to do with story ideas?

Well, you see, about a month after surgery, when I was emotionally at my lowest--remember the surgeon had given me a one-week recovery time--two golden spots started glowing in the back of my head. Brain cancer, thinks I. The doctors at the cancer institute were wrong; they didn't get it all. It's spread to my brain. I was frantic, googling for signs of brain cancer. No where did I read about yellow, glowing spots in the back of one's vision.

It took me time to work up nerve to call the cancer institute to tell them I needed an appointment and why. I had the number in my hand ready to dial when the two glowing spots blinked.

Eyes??? These are eyes? Heck, I didn't need to call an oncologist. I needed to call a shrink!

So, for the next few weeks, these glowing eyes stayed with me--waiting, watching, willing me to talk to them. Well, I might be crazy, but I'm not crazy enough to talk to things I shouldn't be seeing in the first place.

Then one night, the eyes left my head and moved to the foot of our bed. A huge bear formed around them. Now, I have an odd philosophy about characters. I believe they only reveal themselves to writers they believe will tell their story. So I was surprised to see this ginormous bear staring at me from the foot of my bed. "I'm sorry, but you've come to the wrong writer's house," I told him. "I don't write children's stories." He shook his head. "Oh, you're not that kind of bear?"

He shifted into a Scott, wearing a kilt and sporting oodles of muscles.

"I'm sorry, but you're still in the wrong writer's bedroom. I don't write paranormal. Contemporary, historical and romantic suspense, but nothing paranormal."

"Aye, lassie, but ye will." He motioned for me to slide over closer to Calvin, who was snoring away, and then Kilt-Man lay beside me. "Let me tell ye the story of how bears came to be extinct in Scotland." And he began telling me this miraculous tale. I fell asleep snuggled between my sweet husband and my new hero, Creighton Matheson. When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I did was google "are bears extinct in Scotland"...and chills skittered up and down my spine.

Creighton's story is the first book in A Highlander's Beloved Trilogy, followed by his two younger brother's stories. Look for A Highlander's Obsession in August from Random House's LoveSwept line. You'll already know how the writer came up with the story idea...or how it came to her when she was recovering from cancer. And how Creighton charmed her one night with his Scottish burr.

 

To pre-order, go to http://amzn.com/B00ILX9WC0

 

or for a Nook version, go to http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-highlanders-obsession-vonnie-davis/1118735296?ean=9780804179300

To learn more about Vonnie's writing, go to www.vonniedavis.com

FAMILY. THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING.

By Brenda Chitwood

This has been quite a year. One year ago last July, my niece, her teen-age daughter and two little dogs moved in with me. ME! The spinster of the family. Sam, my Schnauzer, was content to be an only dog-child so he was not thrilled. I'll explain why later.

I've lived with just a dog pretty much since I started living on my own. My brother lives in another town on the other side of Ft. Worth and his daughter lived in East Texas. Over the years, we had only visited occasionally. She had family there and a busy life.

Well, not long after moving to a high stress job in the tiny town of Vernon, she was diagnosed with breast cancer.  This called for a move to be closer to good care and family.  She packed up the teen and the dogs and I suddenly became mom and grandma in one day.

I love them all, but this was a huge change for someone who never had children and lived pretty contentedly alone, writing and staying busy with my friends. So, this was my life for a little over a year:


Clark is full blood Chihuahua and Nugget is a mix of Pug and Chihuahua and (I swear) beagle. My niece is a sucker for any lost animal.

 She found Clark on the side of the road as a puppy. We're pretty sure he is autistic. He lines up his food and barks at it. He has a multitude of  odd behaviors. Nail chewing and hiding under blankets. When not bathed regularly, he smells like old tacos. The dog whisperer would have his work cut out for him.

Nugget, belonged to an elderly man who passed away. No one took the dog so he was turned over to a shelter where he lived for several months before nuzzling into my niece's neck when she brought Clark in for shots. He squirmed around like a delirious puppy and licked her chin. He isn't dumb.

His ears are huge... like bat wings. He sheds about a pound of hair a day.  He is only about nine inches  tall, round as a barrel and struts around on short little legs. Due to a throat problem, he coughs, gags and sounds like an old geezer with a two pack a day smoking habit. He growls at being moved off the sofa when he is sleeping. (Which is most of the day.)  I found this  particularly interesting since the teenager exibited many of the same traits.

Ah, the joy of learning to live with a sixteen year old. NEVER wake them up any earlier than absolutely necessary. She had the timing down to the second for getting ready for school. Five minutes any earlier resulted in snarls and glares. Oh, FYI,  teenagers can live on Dr. Pepper, Spaghettio's and jars of dill pickles.

On the plus side, I know who Harry Stiles is and that Pink is not only a female singer but a line of clothing at Victoria's Secret.

I'm sure I was no picnic to live with, but we all managed to get through the year without any major battles, strangulation or screaming matches. I learned to adore the teenager in spite of little dramas like locking her keys in her car twice in one week, washing only one shirt in the washing machine because she needed it later and keeping my mouth shut when she wore her pj's to school occasionally.

We became even closer while my niece was going through surgeries, chemo, job loss and a difficult, non-supportive ex-husband.

I'm glad to say they are thriving. My niece has an excellent prognosis, a good job and a head of very thick, very curly hair. As for the ex, the best revenge is living a good life.

The teen spent a week last summer doing missionary work in Honduras and just returned from the Tiger Cruise on the Naval air carrier, USS Nimmitz. Her youngest aunt was returning from deployment and they allow family to stay on board from San Diego to their final destination in Washington.

Sam and Nugget have become good buddies.  Clark stays buried under his blanket, but I think he will miss them when they leave.

It's really quiet around the house, now, but  it was one of the best year's of my life. I'm thankful for being able to support her during this rough time and looking forward to the coming year. I hope all of you have a wonderful Christmas and a New Year that brings you love, laughter and joy.