I am a 70 year old Caucasian female, relatively active and fit, and except for the odd accident that resulted in injuries, extremely healthy. I can count on one hand the number of times I ever even had to deal with colds or the flu. I am also a certified workaholic, was raised by two workaholics, and married one as well. Life is all about work ethic, and you never quit a task just because you were tired. That is NOT acceptable, and worse yet, is being lazy. There is no genetic predisposition for getting cancer on either side of my family; getting cancer was never something that I ever thought about.
Last March, I was doing the self-check and there was a huge lump (29 x 31 x 32 mm). I was shocked – it had NOT been there the day before! I wasn’t the least bit afraid of it being cancer, I believed it was some kind of cyst and would probably just need to be drained. I did recognize that whatever it was, it shouldn’t be there, so I immediately called and made an appointment for a mammogram. Two weeks later that was done; I waited to get the results. Another mammogram and a biopsy later, I was sitting in a surgeon’s office being told the “cyst” was a “tumour” and needed to be removed. The surgeon indicated that there was some concern about the fact that my estrogen and progesterone receptors were negative. I must admit I did not know what that meant, but I still firmly believed that this lump was just a cyst, not a tumour. Family and friends were getting nervous about cancer. I wasn’t.
Two weeks later I had the surgery, they took the lump out as well as three of my lymph nodes, just to check. All was well. Then one month later, we met with the surgeon for the follow-up. The “cyst” had actually tested positive for cancer, but it was only Stage 2, and the lymph nodes were negative, a very good sign. The one issue that appeared to be important was the negative receptors so I was referred to the Juravinski Cancer Clinic to determine next steps. Still not truly understanding what was happening, I believed that I was going to be given a choice between chemo, radiation or nothing at all.
While I was waiting for the appointment (only two weeks), a friend of mine, who is a nurse, texted me and told me she had Googled TNBC and was glad they were referring me to the chemo doctor. I didn’t know what she meant by TNBC, so I looked it up. TNBC is Triple-negative breast cancer, an aggressive type of invasive breast cancer in which the cells do not have estrogen or progesterone receptors (ER or PR) and also do not make any or too much of the HER2 protein. It normally occurs in females between the ages of 40-50 of Black or Hispanic descent. None of those parameters fit me! I suddenly felt as if I was in a movie and had been give the wrong role.
I called my nephew, who has his doctorate in microbiology and had specialized in stem cell cures for cancer research. I asked him if a cancerous tumour could simply appear overnight. I was expecting to hear “No Aunt Deb, that doesn’t happen.” Instead, I heard “Yes, Aunt Deb, that can happen every once in a while.” I was stunned.
I meet with the doctor who dealt with chemotherapy treatment. As I said, I was expecting to be given a choice of chemo, radiation or nothing since the surgery had completely removed the tumour. He instead advised that the only treatment I could have with TNBC was chemotherapy infusion. He recommended an aggressive, eight session chemotherapy program, to be followed by 20 radiation treatments. Feeling more and more as if I was in a bad movie, I agreed to his plan. The chemotherapy started two weeks later. In retrospect, one thing I found interesting – I was given all kinds of information about the negative effects of chemo: nausea, constipation, diarrhea, fatigue. But no one ever mentioned “chemo brain,” the effects on my thinking process. I was about to learn.
The treatment started. I am extremely fortunate in that we live a twenty-minute drive from the Juravinski Cancer Clinic, an amazing place. The staff is incredible. I truly did not know what to expect, but I certainly did not expect to feel so good after my first chemo treatment that I looked forward to the next treatment! The staff made the sessions so pleasant that the thought of coming back for the next treatment was also pleasant! The staff dealing with radiation were the same – wonderful, positive, friendly professionals you looked forward to seeing every day!!
The doctor had warned me about listening to my body. If I felt tired, I should rest. That’s where the workaholic brain came into play. As I had never truly been sick in my life, I did not know how to be sick. As a matter of fact, I started to get annoyed at how people were suddenly treating me as if I were sick. I remember actually yelling at one of my dearest friends: “Stop treating me like I’m sick!!! I’m NOT!”
For the first few weeks, I went about things as if life was normal. After the second chemo treatment, my hair started to fall out. I had my sister-in-law and my “adopted daughter” shave my head. I was still in such a bizarre limbo that I didn’t even really get upset about that, I laughed and still felt as if I was in a bad movie.
I noticed that I was getting really, really tired all the time, but I couldn’t not do things. That was ridiculous and, worse yet, being lazy. Then I got hit by the proverbial “brick wall.” I remember sitting at the kitchen table and realizing I truly needed to lay down for a couple of minutes, but it was a struggle to get from the table to the sofa – a space of about 10 feet! And for the first time, I started to actually understand what the doctor had meant when he said “listen to your body.” Resting was not being lazy, resting was allowing my body to deal with the effects of the chemo.
The treatments progressed and as they went on, I found I was adjusting to listening to my body. I spent most of my time sleeping. I was extremely fortunate in that I did not experience the nausea, constipation or diarrhea I had been warned about, but I noticed that I was forgetting things more frequently than normal. And I had little or no ambition to do anything. That somewhat rapidly progressed to the point where even just thinking about doing something was overwhelming and would put me flat on my back. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, but I knew something wasn’t “normal.” And then came the day when I truly realized what my sister-in-law had meant when she used the term “chemo brain.” I was at an infusion treatment, and the nurse had removed the needle and put a band-aid on the insertion spot. When I moved my sweater sleeve down, it ripped the band-aid off and blood started pouring down my hand, to the point where my hand was totally covered in dripping blood. Under normal circumstances I simply would have put my finger on the spot to stop the bleeding. I did not do that. I just stared at it, as the blood continued to flow and quietly said “Oh my.” The nurse turned to me and immediately took action. And I just stood there – no reaction at all. On my way home, I thought about it and finally admitted that my brain was really not functioning normally. I finally understood the term “chemo brain.”
The entire treatment process, including the 20 bouts of radiation took four months. In retrospect, I can see how I went from diagnosis, with no effect except a flat refusal to believe this was “real,” to almost total lack of “normal” function, to slowly returning to reality. I went from chastising myself for being lazy to accepting the fact that when my body said stop, I had to stop. I went from being the multitasker who had entire days organized to accomplish all tasks to someone who could not even think about doing a task, as the mere thought process was overwhelming. And I then, slowly, went back to someone who could actually think about accomplishing a task, and then doing just that.
I had to wait one month after completion of the chemo treatments before starting the radiation treatment. It felt good to not have to deal with chemo anymore, but I was still dealing with the overwhelming fatigue. It took a couple of weeks before that started to fade, and one morning, I was very pleasantly surprised that I was able to think about doing a simple household task, and it actually felt possible! I still did not have the strength to do it but the fact that I could actually think about it was promising! My brain was starting to return to its normal function! I remember being pleasantly relieved when I could walk the length of my home and not need to rest for an hour. A couple of weeks later, I remember the first time I actually did something “normal” – I shoveled the driveway – and I was able to complete the task and still able to somewhat function. It was a huge relief, and it was the first time I realized that this movie was coming to an end.
It is now two weeks since my last radiation treatment, two months since the last chemo infusion. My hair is slowly starting to grow, my energy level is slowly getting back to normal. My friends, who have been so incredibly supportive throughout this journey, are thrilled that I am doing so well! My husband, my rock, is grinning non-stop, and excitedly planning our vacation!
And so what do I do now? Life is about choices; you pick and choose how you deal with any given situation. There is no magic cure for cancer, and I know that “my” cancer can return. But I have made my choice on how to deal with that reality. I compared it to the fact that I have a licence and I drive. Do I spend every day worrying about getting in a car accident? No, I do not. So am I going to spend every day worrying about whether or not the cancer will return? No, I am not. Just as firmly as I believe I will not have a car accident today; I believe that today the cancer will not return. And it will quickly become something I do not spend any time thinking about. Don’t misunderstand this – I will get the checks regularly, and I am certainly aware that if I get odd lumps, I need to get checked immediately. But this will not change my life. I am a survivor, not a victim!
About Deb
My name is Deb Murphy and I live in Binbrook, Ontario. I was a military dependent until 15; at 18, I joined the military myself and served until I was 41. When I retired, I came “home” to Mount Hope, Ontario. While I was working at figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I met my now husband, Larry, and my future became very clear. He was an owner in two different businesses and I became his assistant. We are incredibly fortunate in that we work really well together, and for the past 29 years, that is what we have been doing. We have a wonderful life. Larry’s son, Dan, is an integral part of that life, and we are very proud to say he is the HR and Quality Manager at one of Larry’s businesses. Larry and I have become ardent golfers, and every February, we head down to Mexico to hone our skills in preparation for a spring/summer and fall of traveling around our area golfing with friends and family.