Cancer survivors' words and experiences-福州大学肿瘤转移的预警和预防研究所

Cancer survivors' words and experiences

发布日期：2012-11-05 浏览次数：

Teresa - breast cancer survivor
I found my breast lump 2 days after Christmas 2006. I had a lumpectomy, 6 rounds of chemo and am now halfway through radiation treatments. I am a survivor!
Along the way I have learned a lot and found some things that helped to get me through the inconveniences of overcoming cancer.
One of the most difficult side effect for me is the horrible after taste that is left in ones mouth. Even now that I am beginning to be able to taste my food again, I still have a nasty aftertaste from everything, even water. The only thing I found that really works for me is cinnamon gum or mints, at least temporarily, they banish the bad taste. Plus the cinnamon helps with nausea.
Everyone experiences some degree of fatigue and the longing for that afternoon nap. One-A-Day makes an All-Day Energy formula vitamin that worked wonders for me.I wouldn't have made it through the chemo, while working, without it. However ask your doctor before taking them!
Detaching from your hair (we don't "loose" it, we know where most of it ends up : ) ) has advantages. You save money on hair products and haircuts, time from washing and styling it, and the concern of "how does my hair look." Wigs are stylish. Hats can be fun. I get many compliments on mine (and they can be very inexpensive, $1 each for some). You can recreate the person the world sees in a very positive way by handling your lack of hair in a personalized, creative way. Your lack of hair has not changed who you are, just given you the opportunity to present to the world a new stronger, braver vision of who you really are.
Almost all doctors' offices are cold! If you are prone to getting cold either wear sox or keep some with you and keep a jacket handy also.
My heading of "keep your sox on" not only applies literally but also figuratively. Cancer is not the worst thing in the world. Just hang in there, do the best you can to make the most of everyday.
If you have found your cancer you are already a survivor!!!!!

Scott Hamilton - a survivor!
I went to a physician in Peoria, Illinois, and suddenly I was having all these tests, scary tests. It all happened really fast, but one thing I remember so clearly. I'll never forget when I first heard the words "You have cancer." At first, I was petrified. I was in shock. I couldn't believe it. A lot of things go through your mind, and sometimes all the thoughts aren't so good. But then, I made up my mind that I would fight and that I could do it. That's when I first said, "The only disability in life is a bad attitude." I really believe that.
I had so much support from my friends and family and the great folks at The Cleveland Clinic. There were some tough times, but the chemotherapy wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I was able to manage it and make it and I know that other people can too.
I have learned a lot from my experience going through testicular cancer, but I guess what I want to say is that the experience wasn't as bad as what I feared. The fear was worse. If people can get information, they can overcome their fear and make it through.I did it and you can,too!

Greg - 6 Lessons I learned from my cancer
Lesson #1: Many more people genuinely care about you than you can possibly know - and they are ready to do everything in their power to help you through your treatment.
Lesson #2: God is NOT mean - sometimes bad things happen to good people.
Lesson #3: All big words have simple explanations - you just have to keep asking until you get it.
Lesson #4: Not all doctors are very good; but some doctors are outstanding; and personally dedicated to making you get well again. The same can be said for Nurses, Radiation Techs, and Receptionists. Take the time to find the really good ones.
Lesson #5: It's OK to have a bad day. You're sick; you don't have to happy about it.
Lesson #6: You're a LOT tougher than you think you are - you CAN DO this.

Benjamin - lung cancer
I am 76 years old and I have one foot in the grave and the other is on a banana peel, but life is a ball.
In 1998 when I was a young man of 70, I was informed that I had a growth in my left lung. After a few examinations and a needle biopsy, I was informed it was a cancerous growth. After consultation with an Internist, a Pulmonologist, a Cardiothoracic Sugeon and an Oncologist (here I would like to wish that you all would have as wonderful a group of doctors and nurses as I had), it was decided that chemotherapy and surgery would be our course of action. This was accomplished.
In January of 2002, it was discovered that I had a tumor in the upper portion of my left lung. A biopsy indicated it was cancerous. This time chemo and radiation was the prescribed treatment and it was successful in eliminating the tumor.
I mention this only to indicate I know of what I speak. Do no let Cancer end your Life. Wade in with Faith, Humor, and Resolve to survive and enjoy what ever length of time your have left on this green earth. We will all die at some point, it is the living that we must face, conquer and manage.
Faith is a strong ally and is never to be overlooked. Humor is the lubricant for an enjoyable Life, both for you and those around you. Resolve is the determination to fight for every moment of enjoyment life has to offer. Let no one "rain on your parade.

Alison & Kathryn - A Family Affair
The following is an article written by my 16 yr old daughter for out local newspaper - Cancer doesn't just affect one person, it affects everyone who knows the person, and it takes a community to beat it. As I face my last chemo tomorrow, and head toward surgery and radiation, I know that I am a survivor and that I am here because of all the wonderful support that has been given to our family. My daughter's article shows that cancer isn't all bad - there are wonderful things to be learned from it, and a few laughs along the way.
Here is the article:
Lasagna. Layers of meat, cheese and pasta are blended together to create a dish any family can enjoy. It is a comfort meal, designated the place of honor at the table of a grieving or saddened family. And though I love this dish and the garlic bread that usually comes with it, I have to admit that after this summer I am truly sick of lasagna.
Four weeks into what should have been 10 school-free, carefree weeks, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. The word 'shock" comes to mind, and that is what my whole family experienced. At just over 40 years old, with two teenagers and two toddlers, nobody expected my mom to get cancer. And the statistics agree; according to the American Cancer Society, only 120 out of 100,000 women of her age get this type of cancer. That's a meager 0.12 percent.
An out-of-this-world experience is life-changing. So is a trip to a third-world country. Cancer falls right into this category. It isn't simply a visit to the oncologist once every two weeks. It's the radiology and oncology appointments, the endless shots, the evaluations, re-examinations and the trips to the cancer center in Seattle.
My mother's cancer was not caught early and it will not submit to treatment easily. On a scale of nine, it has been assigned an eight for aggressiveness. And it is already a stage three cancer. There are only four stages.
For my mom, the emotional hardships are just as burdensome. I can't imagine taking on as much as she has; battling cancer while dealing with the terrible-twos and troublesome teenagers is one thing, but she also holds our family together.
Cancer doesn't just affect one person. It affects everyone who knows that person. My dad is forever on the lookout, tense and anxious, hoping to provide the best care and support for his wife. My brother's and sister's lives are changing as well. Daycare is now a reality, but something we had hoped to avoid while they were growing up.
And me? I have learned to deal with emotions not previously felt. There's the pressure of the unknown, of what may come and what will happen.
There's the anger, which must often be redirected. How can I consciously hold a grudge against someone who is so sick?
But one thing you learn not to do when a loved one is going through something traumatic is ask "why her?" I know that she's asking the same question of herself, and since the answer will be forever unknown, why spend time pondering it? My time is better spent not on debating why it happened, but on how I can make my mom feel as comfortable and relaxed as possible.
No matter what the outcome and despite the hardships between now and then, some good can be found in this tough situation. And although many expect my family to be solemn and gloomy during this time, there are several truths that make us smile.
Truth number one. Friends and family are willing to help. The support we have received is overwhelming, and we are now being provided with five meals a week thanks to my dad's colleagues. However, all five meals do not have to consist of lasagna and garlic bread.
Truth number two. I will learn more during the next year of handling my mom's illness than I will in all my years of medical school. There are lessons never taught in med school; I am discovering these now.
Truth number three. Doctors aren't as scary as they look.
Truth number four. Hearing my two-year-old sister yell "have fun!" as my mom heads out for another round of chemo is funny despite the circumstances.
Truth number five. Telling my mom's doctor that she was late because I was helping her fix her hair is not a valid excuse, but always evokes smiles.
As treatment progresses and plans for the future are made, I have made several promises to my mom. No matter what happens, she made me promise to continue working hard. I promised to try my best to accomplish my goals and vowed to keep the everyday routine as normal as possible for my two toddler siblings.
And I also promised that the first word of my column, when I eventually chose to write one on this topic, would be lasagna.
For the next six months, my mom will face at least another four rounds of chemotherapy, surgery and radiation treatment. Seattle will become a second home and the wigs and bandanas a fixture in our house.
But one thing we are certain of: she will pull through. Because whatever happens, my mom is too important to too many people for anything to go wrong.
Keep fighting, mom!

Terry - a survivor2
Hearing the words "you have cancer" is bad enough, but after the operation that removed the tumor and part of my colon, I was informed that they also removed a small tumor from my liver, which meant the cancer had metastasized. The oncologist did not look too happy when he told me I was in stage 4. I must have been in total denial because I really didn't believe this was happening to me. I had it all - a good marriage - two great kids - a job I liked - good friends and about to become a grandmother. Maybe life was a little too good. The chemotherapy that was selected for my cancer was infused through a port-a-cath. I received about a teaspoon daily for 4 months. The side effects were minimal - no hair loss or nausea but other small inconveniences which were bearable. You can imagine the anxiety I felt when I went for my first CT scan but the news was good and it has been good for the past 14 years. I had one doctor tell me he did not believe that I had this type of cancer and was still living until he saw the reports. Why am I a survivor? I ask myself that question everyday when I thank God. Maybe I needed to see my first granddaughter who was born later that year, or her sister born 4 years later - or to see my two little grandsons, one of which was just born or maybe I am still needed. I don't know the answer but if I did I would wish it for all the cancer patients. It's been 14 years - I still think about it everyday and am so grateful to the doctors who treated me and my family for their support.
Courage and hope to all the cancer patients. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

Monica - ovarian cancer
I'm a 45 year old woman diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer in July 2001. I had extensive surgery followed with 6 rounds of chemo. I'm thrilled to say that i have No Evidence of Disease at this time.
I was extremely devastated because at first it was thought that I had pancreatic cancer. After numerous tests, it turned out to be ovarian. Being a normally in control person, I hit ROCK BOTTOM not knowing how I was going to get through it all and gain back my control. It came in time.
One thing I DID and STILL do is that after EVERY chemo, CT scan, blood test, I "reward" myself. It can be as small as a latte or as big as a new purse, my real weakness!!! Stay Strong.
Lois - metastatic breast cancer
I was originally diagnosed with breast cancer in 1995. I have experienced about everything there is to experience with this disease. My cancer spread to my bonesand I have had radiation treatments twice and am on my fifth or sixth chemo drug. I have continued to work full time throughout my treatments. I walk with a walker and use a wheel chair on big excursions but I am still ticking and plan to be for a long time. If you keep a positive and can do attitude, you can push yourself further than you can imagine.

Carol - Breast Cancer
I had severe breast cancer in April 1984. I had a modified radical mastectomy at St. Vincent's Hospital in LR, AR. I had 16 malignant lymph nodes out of the 19 removed under my arm. My surgeon was a wonderful Christian man and I owe a lot of my recovery to him and my great oncologist besides God, of course. I had 13 months of chemo which I tolerated well being as I was on such a strong dosage of all the 3 different drugs. I got a little sickly feeling from about 3 days but the only days I missed from my work was the day I had to drive to LR for my treatment (125 miles each way). I continued working through my whole treatment except for the 6 weeks of radiation and cobalt treatment that I took at CARTI in LR. While receiving this treatment, I stayed at Hope Lodge in LR and just went home on the weekends. I am a Survivor and Praise God above all else for it. But my Doctors, family and friends were all a big contributor to my recovery. As Scott says "If I can do it - you can too." God Bless.

Geri - Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma
In 1987, at the age of 37, with two toddlers, I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Lousy prognosis. However, after thoracic surgery and 9 months of chemo, I am still here. I enjoy and love every day. Take the bull by the horns and live each day.

A childhood cancer survivor
It may be cancer. The words no one wants to hear are even more frightening when they are about your child. It's a parents worst nightmare. The world stops and turns your life upside down, sitters for siblings, insurance, treatments and side effects, replace school days, playdates and swim lessons.
That old cliche- every cloud has a silver lining seemed so bizarre those first few weeks but as we traveled this journey I saw a strength and drive in a small child that I rarely see in adults. She continued to take her skating lessons until her legs just wouldn't hold her up. She would look sort of green in the morning before school, I'd suggest staying home and she would say- " It's skating day Mommie, If I'm going to skate today I should go to school first" This from a child in kindergarten. Her drive to do what she loves got her through some horrible days.
We would lie and imagine what she would do when the chemo finished it's job and killed the cancer cells and she could get strong again. That little child who dreamed of "skating a spiral just like Nancys" (Kerrigan) now has a spiral that is getting close to just that and just started landing her double lutz,double toe jumps cleanly this week She is an inspiration. Our Motto: Think of what you really want and go for it- hold on to your dreams. Go for that personal best. Children can do it- so can you. LIVE-LOVE-DREAM

There is life after chemo- and it can be good!

Sarah - a 14 year old survivor
I'm 14 yrs old and I have been in remission for almost 2 years. One of the things that got me through being sick was just to put myself in a positive frame of mind. I would think about the chemo attacking all the cancer cells in my body and killing them (like in a cartoon!!) I would then try to do some type of relaxation stuff; like imagine that I was anyplace but Children's Hospital!
One of the things that helped me with my nausea was that my mom got some lavender tincture at the healthfood store. She would put some of it on cotton balls and put it all over my room. It made my nausea go down by at least half. Plus the nurses really liked coming to my room!!
I would like to help anyone that I can that is going through this, whether you are an adult or a kid. I have been there and I will answer any questions or talk to you at any time.
Sarah Shank
Durango, CO
www.countrykidswithcancer.com

Samantha - neuroblastoma survivor
It was around Christmas time, 1995. As the family was preparing for the holidays we began noticing Samantha becoming a little pale, was becoming very irritable and she began leaning to one side. A trip was made to the doctor's office but nothing was found to be wrong. We were told that Samantha is more comfortable on that side and not to worry about it.
Several weeks later the symptoms began to worsen. During a two-week period, two trips were made to the Emergency Room. The diagnosis was "backed up stool". We were instructed to give Samantha laxatives.
On her 1st Birthday we noticed a radical change in her. She was sitting in her high chair and we had just given her a large piece of her birthday cake. She was crying and leaning on her right side. We picked her up and held her and she quieted down and things seem to be a little normal but she would constantly move trying to get comfortable.
A few days later, while lying on the floor Samantha began to cry. At first we thought she just wanted to be held but grandma saw something else. Grandma picked Samantha up and demanded that we contact a different doctor and find out what was happening because something was wrong. Eleven days prior to this, Samantha had her first year physical and given a "clean bill of health".
The following morning Samantha was taken to the doctor's office and was seen by a different pediatrician. Blood tests were taken; the doctor examined Samantha carefully and found a large tumor located on the lower right quadrant of her stomach. Immediately we were instructed to take Samantha to radiology where a sonogram was performed and the tumor isolated. 30 minutes later we were in route to Shands hospital at the University of Florida.
We were admitted immediately. I can't begin to tell you how efficient things seemed to be. Samantha's bed was ready; an IV pole was lined up with IV lines dangling from each hook. Bags, gowns, sheets, everything was in place. Tests were taken almost as soon as we arrived and the Dx was given. Samantha was in Stage IV, with a Neuroblastoma Cancer and given a 30% chance of survival.
From that point on, meetings were held, a protocol selected and Samantha underwent treatment. Samantha's protocol required chemotherapy, radiation treatments and surgery. The treatments lasted almost a year. The chemotherapy and radiation did their job and shrunk the tumor so that on July 5th, 1996 (our Independence Day) the tumor was removed during a 9-hour surgery procedure. On September 11th and 12th, Samantha received what turned out to be a life saving bone marrow transplant. During the transplant Samantha almost died on two separate occasions. At one point, she entered a near "coma" and we felt that she may not recover. But by the grace of God she did recover and from that point on, her rate of improvement was considered by some to be "miraculous".
On October 31st of 1996, Samantha was released from the hospital and began monthly visits to the Cancer clinic for monitoring and urine tests. During these visits Dr. Magheed kept asking us about her talking. In March of 1997 that we had our first initial appt for her hearing to be screened. At which time we found out that her hearing had been severely damaged.
We were told it was the chemo theraphy drug named Cytoxin that caused the damage. It was the heavy dose in the BMTU that we believe bottomed her hearing out totally and took any of the remaining hearing that she had before. She was supposed to have her hearing tested periodically while in the hospital. Unfortunately, she was too little and too sick too have that done. It was either her hearing, or her if you really sit down and think about it. She wouldn't of made it thru the Cancer without having Cytoxin. They explained that with age her hearing would worsen and in time her hearing would more than likely decrease. We thought 17/18 years old, not 4 years. Her hearing continued to worsen where even the hearing aids weren't helping. Finally in September of 2000 it was decided that she needed the Cochlear Implant.
Samantha had the surgery February 8, 2002 and the cochlear device was hooked up on March 18, 2002.
Her hearing has improved 1000%. Instead of knocking on a wall or stamping my foot to get her attention, I simply call her name in a normal voice and she hears me. She can hear a cats meow and dogs bark. She hears a knock at the door and the sound of the dryer. For the first time she can hear the "S" in her name. She can hear music and the sound of a Harley. And she'll tell you that she can hear the angels

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