Battling cancer can at times feel like slowly paddling upstream against currents that are both forceful and unforgiving. Sometimes reprieve comes only when we find others in the same boat, others submerged in their own rough waters, others who truly know what it's like to navigate a dreadful disease.I am lucky -- in an odd sort of cancer way -- because I had breast cancer. Many women have breast cancer. And while this really is a horrible fact, it makes for a great sea of support. At times when I felt I was drowning in cancer, I reached for my lifeguards -- the women who paddled before me, the women paddling alongside me -- and they coached me, guided me, saved me from one the worst side effects of cancer. Isolation.
I have rarely felt isolated in my cancer journey and as a result, I have not thought much about this lonely cancer consequence. But I am thinking about it now -- thanks to a reader who has courageously shared her story with me, in hopes of locating someone in her same boat, in hopes of creating connections with other survivors who share the challenges of her disease.
Tanya has anal cancer. She was diagnosed one year ago -- during a routine colonoscopy -- with squamous cell carcinoma in-situ in her anal canal, on the wall between the anus and vagina. Previous abdominal discomfort, much like dull menstrual pain, preceded Tanya's screening but she was sure it was due to menopause. She was 53 at the time.
But it wasn't menopause. It was cancer. And it was devastating for Tanya who was spared radical surgery in exchange for a combination of radiation and a chemotherapy called the Nigro Protocol. First came a mitomycin push followed by four to five days of 5-Fluorouracil. Radiation came next -- for six weeks -- and then Tanya endured another round of the same chemotherapy regimen.
"The treatment was brutal," Tanya says. "By the end of the sixth week, I was in a lot of pain, especially since the affected area had a lot of traffic and could not exactly be decommissioned and allowed to heal."
Although she was told by her oncologist she tolerated her treatment well, Tanya says it was pure hell.
Tanya's treatment ended in March and an August biopsy revealed she is doing just fine. Her cancer appears to be gone. What is not gone, however, is the discomfort that still plagues her -- both physically and emotionally. And while the physical scars are simply terrible -- she feels pain during urination and bowel movements and is currently unable to have intercourse with her knight-in-shining-armor husband -- the emotional isolation is overwhelming distressing.
"I have not shared this experience with too many people since I feel awkward discussing that part of my anatomy and because the condition is so uncommon," Tanya says. "I would, however, be most grateful to discuss any or all of this with someone who has been through the same experience."
If you have been in Tanya's same cancer boat, have paddled similar waters, or know someone with whom she might connect, please consider contacting this brave survivor at sultana@cyberight.net.
I ran into a neighbor the other day at the grocery store. She has breast cancer, has just finished her final chemotherapy treatment, and proudly displays her bald head as she enthusiastically takes on life. I introduced her to my husband, we all chatted, and then we parted ways. And soon after, my husband asked me if she is the neighbor whose husband we spoke with just recently about his wife's breast cancer journey. I told him this was a different woman -- another neighbor with breast cancer. Including me, that makes three of us with breast cancer in the same community of just 200 houses. And this shocked my husband -- that there are three of us in the same neighborhood with breast cancer. But I told him this really is not surprising, that it's probably not all that uncommon. And I told him there are probably more women with breast cancer residing in the houses on the streets that surround us. We just don't know them all.
