How to Cope With a Cancer Diagnosis

For Day 8 this past weekend, we talked about how to be there for a friend going through a health issue, but what do you do if that person becomes you?

Hearing "you have cancer" can surely turn your world upside-down. You may feel every emotion all at once, or none at all. Know that you're not alone as 1.7 million people are diagnosed each year and about 15.5 million others are cancer survivors.

Sometimes having a plan can be a relief, especially when there are so many unknowns. Here are a few ideas for you to try when faced with a cancer diagnosis:

Assemble your A-Team
Rally a support network so you don't have to carry this burden alone. Your team could be made up of your oncologist, your nurses, other health care professionals, your loved ones, and perhaps a therapist. These will be the ones you can turn to for logistical and emotional support at any time. You may not even have to assemble one as your A-Team may naturally fall into place.

Have someone there at each appointment
There are times when you won't be able to remember everything your doctor said, and that is natural for a lot of people -- with or without a cancer diagnosis. Besides acting as your backup memory, this person can ask questions on your behalf and advocate for your care. It's important to choose someone who is a good listener and has a calming influence on you. This can be someone on your A-Team, or someone completely different.

Your A-team needs to be up-to-speed on your plan of care and your visits anyway, so what better way to keep them informed. (It also gets you out of having these conversations over and over again after your appointment.)

Establish a "communications officer"
If you share your diagnosis with a wider circle, unsolicited advice can be distracting and alarming. If you "hire" a communications officer, you can minimize the direct effects. Your person in this role can update others on your progress, freeing you of the responsibility of responding to various questions. This is especially important if you have a large network of people rooting for you. My mom was always the point of contact for my family members, not only because she was (is) close with them, but also because she was at 90% of my appointments with me too.

Manage the flood of info
Learning some tricks to manage all of the new information swirling around in your brain will help immensely. Start a file to organize your medical records and store all your health documents. This file can also serve as your handy spot to keep all of the questions you write down to ask your care team the next time you see them. My first day of chemo alone, I was given packet after packet of information. Trust me, you'll want a binder for this one.

Make time to process your experience
I slept most of my treatment away, leaving the majority of my processing to the after-years (AKA now, hence this blog). This isn't a bad thing for me, but I would highly suggest to others that they take some time off of work or aside from treatment to get your head straight, prepare, and decide how you're feeling and what you need right now. Whatever your coping style, make time to focus your energy on your own needs and prioritize your care and cure. This is YOUR time.

Breathe
Nowadays, people automatically think "death sentence" when they hear the word "cancer." And although that is highly untrue with modern medicine, it is also highly toxic as it makes cancer patients and their loved ones on edge immediately. If you are diagnosed with cancer, breathe. It's one of the first things you'll more than likely forget to do, but just breathe. Slowly. Take a moment to yourself to garnish each breath as it can bring you closer to a calmer state. Just remember that you have a multitude of supporters by your side, from your loved ones to your health team to those 15.5 million survivors.

You will figure out the rest in time.

Take care of yourselves,

Abi

#30DaysOfTeal How to Be There for a Friend Going Through a Medical Condition

Week 2 and Day 8 of All Things Ab's #30DaysOfTeal Series is in full swing! I'm hoping this week is better than the first one.

I want to take a day and pause from the preventative posts and talk about what happens when you, or a friend, experience bad news. If you or someone you know is going through a hard time with a medical condition, how can we all be there to better support each other?

As we all get older, we slowly begin to realize that life will sometimes throw us or a loved one a curveball. While some things can be easily managed, others -- like a friend/loved one getting an incurable or chronic medical condition -- can alter the reality you both once knew.

Although there is no doubt that's it's incredibly challenging to watch a friend enter this new status, it doesn't mean that everything has to change completely. You may think you are overstepping your boundaries at first, but your support is always vital to their mental and physical health.

Increasing the interaction between two people has been shown to elevate moods, during these times especially. However, if you're unsure how to support them right away, it isn't the end of the world. I've found a few ways to best show up for someone with a medical condition without having to overthink it -- or worse, abandon or isolate them.

1. DO: Be patient
Things may or may not be different between you and your friend now and they'll really appreciate your patience while everyone gets adjusted in this new period. Be patient and don't get upset if plans fall through, especially last minute. Remember that all of what they are going through has nothing to do with you. Don' t give up on them and respect their time and space if they want it. Your lasting friendship is enough right now.

2. DON'T: Give advice unless they ask for it
Even if you're close, you don't want to force them to take your advice or listen to your solutions. Just because it worked for one person, doesn't mean it will work for them. And that's okay because chances are, your friend doesn't expect you to know the answers. Chronic medical conditions are unique to each person and so the best way to help them is by seeing what they need, if anything.

3. DO: Ask open-ended questions
Open-ended questions show your friend you are willing to have tough conversations and that you want to understand the world in their eyes. These kinds of questions also prevent you from becoming too intrusive as your friend will be able to control the conversation in sharing as much or as little as they wish to. Examples could be: What have been the highs and lows for you lately? How can I be there for you? How have the last few days been?

4. DON'T: Act differently
While it's important to be sensitive during sensitive times, you don't want to treat your friend like a fragile object. There was nothing more awkward when I was going through chemotherapy than those who showed me a softer side during that transition. Everyone always meant well, but their changed personalities never helped any situation. Be sure to act as you always do so they do not feel you pity them. Their world is already different, and your friendship may be the only thing that reminds them that life can still be normal and fun for them.

5. DO: Become a better listener
We have two ears and one mouth for a reason. The point is that the more your friend feels heard and not advised, the better. Actively listen to what they choose to share with you and don't assume you know how they feel. Giving them the freedom to have control over their own narrative and condition is one of the healthiest things you can help them do. And as a backup, take the time to research the illness in your own time so that in case they want to change the topic in person, all of your questions will have been answered already.

6. DON'T: Disappear
Medical conditions are often sensitive topics. Not a lot of people know how to approach them or talk to the people going through them. Most people don't realize what they tend to do -- more often times than not -- is disappear. I can't tell you how many people stopped talking to me when I was going through treatment. I knew they didn't know what to say or maybe they were handling it on their own as they digested the news themselves. But please, don't do this. Try so so hard to recognize the time between conversations and visits, because when a friend has a medical condition and isn't able to do much with their life, that's all they think about.

I hope you think about these tips on how to be there for a friend going through a tough time. This may not work for everyone, but if you offer your continuous friendship, you will soon enough discover what they specifically want and need from you.

Even though you may want to make them feel better immediately, your friend will appreciate you taking the time to be there for them when they need it most.

Take care of yourselves,

Abi

#30DaysOfTeal My Cancer Resume -- All Things Ab

Abigail M.

abimarmuro@gmail.com

Somewhere in the world of survivorship

Skilled in advocating for patient rights and preventative medicine. Experienced survivor with knowledge of slowing down and listening to your body. Notable vegetarian in sustainable consumption. Ability to recognize what's important in life and that it's time to start living.

Personal Information:______________________________________

Date of Birth: Sept. 10, 1996

Place of Birth: Wisconsin

Life Experience:___________________________________________

American Cancer Society

Ovarian Cancer Patient

Overlooked missed periods Sept. 2016-Mar. 2017

Diagnosed July 26, 2017

Underwent chemotherapy Aug.-Oct. 2017

NED since Nov. 2017

History:__________________________________________________

Fall 2016-Spring 2017:

Series of missed periods

Uterine/pelvic ultrasound

May 2017:

Mass found on left ovary in ultrasound

Referral to oncologist

July 10-11 2017:

Exploratory surgery and tumor removal

Left ovary and fallopian tube removed with stubborn tumor

Stayed overnight with complications due to anesthesia

July 26 2017:

Oncologist confirmed malignancy with staging from Mayo Clinic

Stage I Grade IIa Sertoli Leydig Cell Tumor of the left ovary

August 2017:

Began three rounds chemotherapy - Bleomycin, Etoposide, Cisplatin

Prescribed 24/7 nausea patch

September 2017:

Lost hair

Complications with blood cell counts

Weekly shots of Neupogen to increase white blood cell formation

October 2017:

Finished extended chemotherapy schedule

November 8 2017:

CT scan of chest, abdomen and pelvis

November 10 2017: 

Call confirmed No Evidence of Disease (NED)

February 2018:

Hair started growing in

May 2018:

CT scan to follow up six months post-treatment

Polyp in gallbladder

August 2018:

Ultrasound followup on gallbladder polyp

No growth

November 2018:

One year NED

July 2019:

Two years post-diagnosis

August 2019:

Memory problems continue - "Chemo Brain"

Present:

Balancing fine lines between patient, person and advocate
_______________________________________________

Now on Instagram! @AllThings_Ab

PC: Nicole De Khors

Goodbye August: Hello Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month

Welcome to my 30 Days of Teal series!

August has come and gone, and thank goodness because it was the longest and most crazy months of 2019. I moved across the country again, started my new position as editor-in-chief of my university's newspaper, and began the final fall semester of my undergraduate career. The good news is I hit the two-year mark since my diagnosis!

But what about September?

September is my favorite. What's not to love? Football, my birthday, childhood cancer awareness, and perhaps closer to home -- Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month.

New headshot for the paper!
PC: Kevin Barrett

This month deserves way more attention than it gets, especially as everyone's minds are clouded with the return of football and a new academic year, right before everyone starts to "think pink" for October. But what about the world's "silent killer" for women?

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 20,418 new cases of ovarian cancer were reported in 2016, the latest year for which incidence data are available for 100 percent of the population. In the US alone, 14,223 women died of ovarian cancer, and for every 100,000 women in the US, 10 new cases were reported.

And it happens to more than just our beloved elderly.

I was diagnosed two years ago, right before my 21st birthday. Definitely not your traditional candidate for this kind of cancer, but silent it indeed was. I had no symptoms or warning signs, and I really didn't have any checkmarks in the risk factors column other than stress.

Ask yourself, how much do you know about gynecologic cancers? Take this CDC quiz to test yourself. More importantly, schedule an annual exam with your gynecologist. They're not that scary, I promise. And everyone needs one. Your health is an investment.

Ovarian cancer, and all of its specific little kinds, has no known cause to this day. This makes knowing the risk factors an imperative part of every woman's knowledge. Risk factors include:

• Age: the older you are, the more risk you naturally pose in being diagnosed due to hormones
• Genetics: If you didn't pick your parents well enough... kidding! Our genes know and control our [good and bad] fate before we even exist
• Family history of ovarian or breast cancer: increases your risk. You should let your medical care team aware of your history as you may need to start your screening at a younger age
• Previous medical conditions of the reproductive system

Additionally, the use of fertility treatments, estrogen hormone replacement therapy, and/or lack of pregnancy may also increase your risk.

Ovarian cancer is known to be deadly because in its early stages, it shows little to no signs or symptoms. It often goes undetected until its too late and spreads to the abdomen and pelvis.

It's called the "Silent Killer" in women for many reasons. First, even in its late stages, ovarian cancer mimics non-life threatening conditions. Symptoms such as discomfort, bloating, swelling, frequent urination, weight loss and constipation are among the many things a proper diagnosis is mistaken for.  Second, the disease is very hard to diagnose.  The lack of effective screenings makes early detection difficult.

Pay attention to your body; know what is normal for you. Make healthy lifestyle choices. (such as: eat a diet rich in fruits and vegetables; exercise regularly; maintain a healthy weight; avoid smoking; and practice safe sex.). Know your family health history. Share it with your doctor. Get the HPV vaccine if you are at an age when it is recommended. Get screened for cervical cancer regularly.

Quick Facts to know according to the NOCC:

• All women are at risk
• An estimated 1 in 78 women will develop cancer in her lifetime
• A pap smear test will not detect ovarian cancer
• Number 1 cause of gynecological cancer-related deaths
• Fifth leading cause of all cancer-related deaths
• When diagnosed and treated in the early stages, the 5-year survival rate of ovarian cancer is 90%

Take the quiz to find your risk.

If reading any of this concerned you, please know that I am here to talk. Listen to your body, call your doctor to schedule an appointment, print and fill out this very helpful resource to bring to your appointment.

I hope my 30 Days of Teal series helps educate and bring all of us closer as we learn more about this aggressive disease. You can expect to read more about my story, my cause, and my hopes for the future for myself, those trying to prevent disease, and other survivors alike. Future posts include how to help yourself or others through chronic illness, how to donate to those in need, and other things the community needs bringing to the light. I will be sharing resources, research articles, events and [hopefully] insightful pieces to get you thinking and moving toward spreading awareness of ovarian cancer.

Make sure to sign up for email notifications in the sidebar for every time I post throughout this series, and before you forget, make sure to visit my GOCA Teal Trot 5K run/walk page to join or donate!

Know that you have my support as a resource who's been there before. Don't be afraid to reach out!

Take care of yourselves,

Abi

My Two Year Cancerversary - My Wish For You

Beautiful Red Rocks from our Denver trip 07.20.19

Hi friends,

Welcome back to the blog after another crazy, unplanned break. More on that later. I wanted to keep up the tradition of posting on this date every year — my two-year cancerversary! Also the one year anniversary of launching this blog. 

When facing a diagnosis, many often remember hallmark dates. I personally take a pause on July 10, the day in 2017 I had the surgery to remove the tumor; July 26, the day my oncologist diagnosed me with cancer; and November 10, the day I received a call with the great news that my CT scan came back clear after chemotherapy. 

Although November 10 is certainly a happier day than July 26, I still take the time to reflect on how much my life has changed since that day.

On this day two years ago, I had a feeling it was going to be scary news from the moment I heard "mass on your ovary" to be completely honest. That's right, even in the midst of optimism coming at me from all angles, I had that gut feeling, which you don't hear in many stories. 

We all obviously hoped for the best anyway.

The craziest part to me — crazier than having ovarian cancer at 20/21 years old — was that had I not have listened to my body and persisted with my doctors until we found an answer, it could've been way worse. I could still be walking around today with Toby the Tumor. 

But I am the lucky one. You see, my family tree is filled with cancer on both sides. If each diagnosis was a light on that tree, we'd be ready to decorate for Christmas.

From an early age, I knew that if I didn't take care of myself, I could end up a Christmas light on that tree too. Perhaps now I'm just a burned-out bulb on that tree — my presence acknowledged but free of catastrophe for now.

I did take care of myself, however. I never had a problem eating fruits or vegetables and I participated in countless sports — some spanning a decade in length. I went to my checkups and physicals every year. I was always the smallest and shortest person in my class growing up and even in my most recent years, I've never tipped above an unhealthy body fat percentage.

So I took care of myself physically and nutritionally. But perhaps more importantly, I took care of myself with persistence. There were many opportunities I could've walked out of doctors' offices two years ago, taking "you have no symptoms" or "we're not sure" for an answer. I could've fallen into the trap that unfortunately too many people today still succumb to. And that is the illusion that doctors know your body better than you do. I'm sorry, but no "M.D." behind anyone's name can make me take their indecisive answers as my fate.  

I'm not here to diss any medical professionals out there — I might not even be alive today without their help. But by golly, if you're one of the too-many who takes their doctor's answers to the grave, that's exactly where you'll end up if you don't put some thought of your own into the equation.

We all know I wasn't your average candidate for the C-word. I showed up to my annual physical one day and brought up that I was having weird periods after finally stabilizing my cycle through the years. That's it. That was my only symptom.

I didn't have the traditional abdominal bloating, changes in eating and bathroom habits, nausea or pain.

But when my physician didn't know what to do, I found another specialist. Don't let me paint this rebellious picture that I didn't have faith in any of these doctors and that I didn't follow orders. What I mean to capitalize on here is that I didn't take denial or indecision as an answer. If my thought process, wishes or symptoms were not validated, or at the very least acknowledged, then I persisted. I was my own advocate. 

I'm not normally one to stray away from my introverted nature, but when it comes to my body and the future of it, I persist. And so should you all.

If there's anything I could wish for you at all — other than peace and safety — it is that you listen to your body and find the strength to always advocate for yourself.

Ask your doctor to slow down and explain things in easy to digest terms, or even ask for them to write it down for you. If you don't agree with treatment, refuse. The last thing you may need right now is more side effects from yet another prescription. If you don't like your care for whatever reason, find it elsewhere. You are the boss and you are the reason these people are employed. Well, kinda. You get it.

The point is, you have to advocate for yourself by playing an active role as an informed, communicative decision-maker about your treatment and your quality of life. You should feel comfortable asking questions and talking to your medical provider. Make sure they listen to you and respect your point of view. Your decisions and your dignity should be their top priority.

Your top priority, however, should be your self-awareness about subtle and not-so-subtle changes in symptoms and health status, as others cannot fully feel or assume what you're going through. Even if you aren't sick, there's a reason you're at the doctor. And even if you're as healthy as a ham, your annual checkups should be seamless and you should be able to walk out of the clinic knowing you've been cared for.

You don't have to take that pill if you feel worse than before or maybe aren't seeing a difference at all.

And you do not need to take "you're fine" as a diagnosis if your suspicions brought you into the office in the first place. 

There is no intention to breed paranoia here but please, communicate with your primary care physician and stand up for yourself until your mind is at ease. 

My feelings as a patient advocate are so strong because, during my chemotherapy, I wasn't as great an advocate as I should've been. The world of cancer and chemotherapy became a whole new one when I was the patient instead of the usual relative or family friend. 

It's a story for another day, but my oncologist was highly unorganized, lacked communication and quite frankly came off as someone who didn't know what they were doing. Whatever she ended up doing clearly worked for me, but the number of headaches my family, myself and my nurses went through was completely unnecessary. Nonetheless, I learned a lot of lessons from not being a strong advocate for myself (Thank God for my family) and now I strive to help others learn from those missteps. 

So as I reflect back on this day two years ago, I want you to know that I am thankful for your support, for your kind messages, and for your readership. As I look to graduate school, I can't help but get excited with the confirmation that I want to dedicate the rest of my life to helping the cancer community as well as helping those not in it stay that way. Exciting things are ahead. 

Take a moment to be thankful where you are right now and reflect on how you are feeling at this moment. Be grateful that each of you possesses the power to stand up for yourself and your health. Don't take your body for granted and celebrate that you were given this day. 

If you ever have any thoughts or questions, please feel free to reach to out me. I'd love to have a conversation with you, even if it's not about health and wellness. I'm always here.

Take care of yourselves,

Abi

What It's Like to Lose Your Hair (When Your Oncologist Said You Wouldn't)

09.23.2017

Why do we care so much about our hair? It's a question we seldom ask because we just really care for and identify with our hair -- plain and simple. It is quite literally part of us, and I never highlighted that thought as much as I did until I lost all of mine.

Let's take a little recap down memory lane, shall we?

July 26, 2017.

The first few words I heard out of my oncologist's mouth in response to "was it cancerous?" was: "Yes ... but at least you get to keep your hair!"

... To which I lost my hair approximately six and a half weeks later. All of it.

A day before my 21st birthday, actually.

It wasn't your typical scene in the shower where I looked down and found clumps of hair falling out to my surprise.

No, it was more painful than that.

You see, I wasn't expecting to lose my hair. So I did absolutely nothing with it, aside from wash it. Days were long from chemotherapy, so I lived in hats. I threw my hair into a low bun, messy as all get-out, and garnished it with a frumpy baseball cap to hide the mess and, let's be real, hide my face.

About four weeks into this fashion statement, my hair started to become matted. I assumed it was from never brushing it. It got messy under that hat anyway, why put in more effort?

Well, the hat ended up pushing all of the hair down and into mini dreadlocks. I didn't care because I slept most of the time, and when I was awake, I was in said hat.

My scalp hurt all the time. One day, I took a shower and just could not run the shampoo through the dreads anymore. I tried to clean my scalp the best I could and said "to hell with the rest."

Showering was a pretty long process, so I went downstairs after I was done and asked my mom to brush my hair like she used to when I was a little girl.

It hurt.

She brushed slowly, and carefully, breaking the chore into small sections. More hair was coming out than was getting brushed, and I didn't notice it until about halfway through the job.

By the end of it all, there was a clump of hair sitting next to us on the couch big enough to make a wig out of.

I didn't look bald or bald-patched from what I could remember of that night, but I did have way less hair than I did when I woke up that day. Granted, I had very long, very thick hair, and a lot of it. That was probably the first time it was all brushed out in weeks. By the time my mom was done brushing it all out, I just looked like someone with very thin, fine hair.

But my scalp continued to hurt, despite being more gentle with it. I still wore hats and that's probably what did it. I actually later learned that it's very common for the hair and skin to hurt or even itch as it falls/comes out.

I had a conversation with someone who had a similar experience and described it to the T when recalling what it was like to lose the hair on her arms and legs. That was actually a good part for me. I always hated my arm hair. It's funny how we can hate the stuff on our body and love the rest on our head.

The day before my birthday I had had enough. The next thing I knew, I was kneeling outside on a cushion from the patio furniture. Chris took a tickly-buzzcut-man thing to my head, and ten minutes later I was bald. Baldish.

It wasn't until my next round of chemo that the tiny hairs fell out once and for all. Such a weird thing to wash your hair with baby soap and still look down to see little hairs going down the drain or sticking to my lathered hands.

Hair is an emotional thing.

When I lost it, I was upset that I not only had "Cancer Patient" written right across my white, shiny skull, but I also was this 21-year-old in college who was supposed to be in the "best years of her life." Seeing all these college girls on campus and thinking to myself, these are the years everyone says is their prime and that was stolen from me.

Hair is truly part of our identity, and us feminine women love to play with it and style it and just have it...

Treatment ended in October 2017 and my hair started to grow back in February 2018. I received compliments from the day I decided to leave my wig at home. So many people said it fit me, or that they wish they were brave enough to have a hairstyle like that ... but it didn't phase me at the time.  I certainly didn't choose that haircut but I obviously wasn't going to explain the entire nine yards to strangers. I already felt like I had a neon target on my back that made me look different from everyone else on campus. Not to mention, finding an eyebrow pencil to match your new-colored hair is super difficult.

And besides, I felt like it didn't fit me. All the nice compliments in the world couldn't convince me I looked just fine. I didn't feel as cute as people told me I was and I sure as heck didn't have a clue what I was doing with it when I tried styling it.

I've learned a lot from losing my hair and regrowing it out. Mainly lessons of patience, but mostly that hair is just a thing. There are way more pressing issues in the world to worry about. Then again, there are also less pressing issues existing in the world, but for now, while I ride out this ugly phase, I'll learn to appreciate the simplicity and natural beauty of short hair.

About a year ago this month, I got my first haircut (You can read about it here). I had what they call "chemo curls" and they needed to be managed. My stylist ended up giving me the cut for free. Yuck. But nonetheless, she was kind for doing so.

Since then, I have had cuts every 6-8 weeks. It's funny, I always read about cancer survivors grieving about their haircuts because they want to hold on to every inch they've just got back. I can honestly say I've always been generally excited to care for my hair and make it as healthy as I can, but I can also honestly say I was feeling a little hesitant for the first time this last week.

05.09.2019

The Thursday before I moved to Wyoming, I decided to chop off more than half of my hair that I worked so hard to grow out. I was getting to this awkward 80's teenager stage so I figured all one length hair was probably a better path, even if it meant having chin-length hair like 7th grade Abi. Yuck again.

It's funny that I "Yuck" so much because I try and preach that the only reason we as a society "Yuck" is because we as a society deem long hair as beautiful and short hair as different.

I say, rock your hair, learn to love yourself and ultimately, just give yourself the tender care you may need right now.

After all, what makes you beautiful isn't the topical things in life.

But you don't need to have gone through cancer to know that.

Take care,

Abi

P.S. - Let me know in a comment below what your hair means to you. Let's share perspectives.