Every scan, every test, every silent wait for results—it's a journey through an emotional landscape that only those who've faced the shadow of cancer can truly comprehend. I'm here, as one who's walked this path, to share the intimate details of my own experiences and the solace I've found in unexpected places, like the whimsical world of adult fairy tales on YouTube. This podcast is a heartfelt tapestry, weaving together the raw, unfiltered realities of living with cancer and the powerful, poignant victories that come when we least expect them—like Annie the Giant Schnauzer's triumphs in her own battle against lymphoma.
We're not just another voice in the vast sea of podcasts; we're your companion in the quiet moments, your ally in the fight, and your guide through the maze of emotions that a cancer diagnosis brings. I'll be offering up not only my own story but also strategies for managing the anxiety, the fear of the unknown, and the daily acts of courage that define our lives. For caregivers listening in, you'll find wisdom on how to be the rock your loved ones need without losing yourself in the process. So, join us as we celebrate each step forward and support each other when the road turns unexpectedly. Together, we can find that semblance of peace amidst the storm and, maybe, just maybe, a reason to keep smiling through it all.
Every scan, every test, every silent wait for results—it's a journey through an emotional landscape that only those who've faced the shadow of cancer can truly comprehend. I'm here, as one who's walked this path, to share the intimate details of my own experiences and the solace I've found in unexpected places, like the whimsical world of adult fairy tales on YouTube. This podcast is a heartfelt tapestry, weaving together the raw, unfiltered realities of living with cancer and the powerful, poignant victories that come when we least expect them—like Annie the Giant Schnauzer's triumphs in her own battle against lymphoma.
We're not just another voice in the vast sea of podcasts; we're your companion in the quiet moments, your ally in the fight, and your guide through the maze of emotions that a cancer diagnosis brings. I'll be offering up not only my own story but also strategies for managing the anxiety, the fear of the unknown, and the daily acts of courage that define our lives. For caregivers listening in, you'll find wisdom on how to be the rock your loved ones need without losing yourself in the process. So, join us as we celebrate each step forward and support each other when the road turns unexpectedly. Together, we can find that semblance of peace amidst the storm and, maybe, just maybe, a reason to keep smiling through it all.
Speaker 1:
Hey guys, welcome to another episode of Cancer, the emotional mountain. This season we're covering the multiple emotions of patients, caregivers and family members, of everyone who has been touched by a cancer diagnosis, mainly because last season I was focused on the patient and through this podcast and events in my life I realized the patient isn't the only one who is touched. I've seen in the eyes of so many how many emotions are running through all of our lives. The diagnosis of cancer isn't a death sentence. It's a world of so many things to learn and understand and we need to do this together. I'm Tammy, your host, a cancer thriver, previous caregiver and family member who has experienced all the ups and downs of this world. You never asked to join X-rays, cts and PET scans. Oh my, you're scheduled for a test, one of the scary ones X-ray, cat scan or PET scan. That's huge. It's a reality check of where your cancer is or has grown.
Speaker 1:
For some who are cancer free, it's the fear of it returning. This is not a comfortable time. It's life changing. It's a test that sets your mind reeling. How do you process it? Well, you can panic, you can lay awake the night before and live in dread, or you can tell yourself this is something I can't control.
Speaker 1:
This morning I had a PET scan. I've had six and numerous CTs. None of them have been clean. I've always had something new, some gone, some smaller, some larger. So I've decided that I'm just going to accept what I can't control. It's going to be what it's going to be and I can only pray for improvement. I went to sleep last night knowing that, whatever it is it is, I can choose to fret, lose sleep, hoping for something magical, or I can go to bed and sleep and know that it doesn't define my future. Now I'm a special case. I was diagnosed in 2020 and here it is 2024 and I'm still a cancer patient. But my life is still my life. I am still here and I'm still living.
Speaker 1:
For those who have been cancer-free for many years, this is a very scary test. You've had clean scans and are afraid of a reoccurrence. I believe that might be worse than mine. You're scared that it's back. You're hoping to hear that it's still gone. I can honestly say I don't know how that feels. I've never heard N-E-D no evidence of disease. I've only heard your terminal, which is worse. Both as a cancer patient, we fear the worst, always those who have never had cancer don't understand. A patient in remission is scared of reoccurrence and a terminal patient is scared of spreading. Both are extremely hard to anticipate prior to a test. My answer to both it's kind of silly, but it works for me.
Speaker 1:
Youtube, yes, I said YouTube, not researching cancer. But I have found a great diversion. It's adult fairy tales. You put them on set your TV timer and listen to Stephen Dalton tell you a story. There's also a couple other channels I use. One is MindRest and one is Get Sleepy Also a story. Not into stories? Well, samsung Free TV has nature scapes.
Speaker 1:
You can watch beautiful scenes of nature and listen to music. For those who want to drift off in the darkness, alexa can drift off to sleep. Drift you off to sleep with nature sounds Thunder, ocean, white noise, brown noise, etc. They even have rain on a tent. Does it work? Yes, whatever it takes, you can close your eyes and the test tomorrow will fade away. If it doesn't work, I guess you can count sheep. I've never been able to concentrate on that without thinking about what's happening the next day. So last night I listened to a fairy tale. It takes me away to a faraway land and next thing.
Speaker 1:
I know I'm getting ready to go to the test, that I have nothing no control over and I'm okay. It doesn't mean I don't get nervous, but it puts me at ease and clear through the test, because I've had a good night's sleep. I'm calmer with the process. Now here's what I like to call caregivers corner. If it's your job to take the patient to the test, it makes sense that you are nervous too. You want everything to be good news. You might benefit from the YouTube series as well. And on the way to the test, try not to be too clingy. What I mean by that is don't keep looking at your loved one with puppy-dog eyes. Don't say everything's going to be okay. A hundred times. Read the room as they say. What energy is the patient giving off? Be a listener, not a preacher. I've watched caregivers give the patient a big hug as they go into the treatment area. They aren't going to the gallows, they'll be right back. Just smile. Let them know that you'll be there when they come out and then go get that cup of coffee you didn't have at home because you didn't want to drink in front of them. Have a good day. Now let's go on to something really fun.
Speaker 1:
An update on Annie. Annie, the Giant Schnauzer, is 10 years old and she was diagnosed with lymphoma in January. Obviously, this was an extremely frightening and stressful for her parents. It's the reason I reached cancer in dogs. I personally know Annie and her parents and I was so sad to hear she had cancer. I am following her journey and I am happy to say she is doing fine. In fact, she tore up a box from Chewy the other day.
Speaker 1:
Her first treatment was February 7th and then again the next morning on the 8th. She did stay overnight that one time. Then on the 15th she had her third and February 28th her fourth. Now she was supposed to have a treatment again on March 6th, so it sounds like she's getting them once a week, but her blood tests on the 6th showed that her white cells were too low, so they skipped it, kind of like they've done with me. According to her mom, the bone marrow is also very sensitive to the treatment, but that means it's working on the cancer as well, so I love that. Now let's see. She did have a new treatment, which was IV, on March 11th, and that was the first one that had been an IV. I didn't get a chance to ask mom how they do that, but anyway, she was getting a blood test today at the same time I was getting my PET scan. This test will hopefully give the vet an idea on how well the chemo was working, just like our blood tests do.
Speaker 1:
I will continue to follow Annie's journey and keep you informed. Yes, she's lost some hair, but when I saw her a couple weeks ago she was her fun, happy self. We could all take a lesson from Annie on how to act during chemo. Jump on the ones you love and wag your bottom. So that's my advice to you today, as I wait patiently and calmly for the results of my PET scan, which I will see my doctor on Friday and he will explain it to me. Yes, it comes on my chart. I glance, but I have no idea what I'm reading, so I don't want to spend a week making up stuff in my head.
Speaker 1:
Thank you so much for dropping by again. I really appreciate it. Make sure you subscribe and share. If you know someone who could use a little, pick me up. This is Tammy with Cancer, the Emotional Mountain. You can follow it on Facebook and I also put my transcripts for those of you that would like to read it on the Facebook page. You can also write to me at cperiod theemotionalmountainatgmailcom. I'm looking forward to checking in with you in a couple of weeks. Take care, send me any questions. Let me know if there's something you'd like me to investigate for you. Chances are I've already done it. Have a great couple of weeks, take care and wag your tail like Annie. Bye, bye.