Coping with cancer

Dealing with the physical side of cancer is tough. The Whipple procedure and chemotherapy are not cake walks. However, I feel the mental side of coping with cancer is more difficult.

Before sharing how I’m coping with cancer, I want to say that even though I’m doing okay, I still am having a hard time with this. If you or a loved one are dealing with cancer and find you are struggling, I encourage you to seek professional help. Your insurance provider, oncologist, or social worker should be able to provide resources. Or ask friends if they know a good counselor, possibly one specializing in chronic illness. You can also try calling 211 and ask about mental health services. If needed, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline number is 1-800-273-8255.

Don’t be afraid or embarrassed to ask for help.

Now, here is how I am coping with cancer so far. As you will see, I have had help from family, friends, and an online support group.

Find the funny

Humor seems to be my go-to defense mechanism. I don’t think I quite realized that until recently. Probably helps that I have attended the past couple of Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshops and had the opportunity to be surrounded by some very talented humor writers.

In 2018, I attended a session at the workshop on incorporating humor into writing about dark places. I have thought back to that session often since my pancreatic cancer diagnosis and it helps me remember that it’s okay to find the funny in this figuratively and sometimes literally shitty situation. The words of Erma Bombeck herself echo through my mind often: “If you can’t make it better, you can laugh at it.”

When I was first diagnosed, a friend who has been through chemo suggested laughing as much as possible. I have added more laughter mostly with television shows. Some shows I’ve enjoyed over the past few months are Ted Lasso, Schmigadoon!, Schitt’s Creek, and Modern Family. My favorite is probably Letterkenny. We are more than halfway through watching the whole series for a second time. The show is lowbrow and highly inappropriate with very foul language. Cracks. Me. Up.

Get up and move

I’m finding the more I move, the better I feel mentally and physically. Running a marathon is out of the question right now. Actually, that has pretty much always been out of the question. I hate running.

However, I can go for a walk around the neighborhood. When I first came home from surgery, walking a few yards down the sidewalk was difficult. At the beginning of chemo, I did well to make it around the block. Now that I’m two-thirds of the way through chemo (woohoo!!), I’ve built up enough stamina to walk for several blocks.

The other thing I’ve been doing is five-minute workouts through the Peloton app. I’m doing them half-assed with no weights, but I’m at least moving. Eventually, I’ll be able to do more and even hop on the stationary bike again.

This all has to be tempered with my need to rest so my body can heal. I still take naps and take it easy when I’m really tired, like right after an infusion.

Obviously, anyone with cancer or going through chemo should consult with their oncology team before starting any exercise programs. If you want more information on exercise and cancer treatment, I suggest visiting the Maple Tree Cancer Alliance site.

Appreciate family and friends

I am blessed with an amazing support system and I cherish every person on my team. My husband has been my rock through all of this. He has been by my side through this crazy journey. And when I fall apart or spin myself into the ground worrying about things, he is right there to pick up the pieces or help me reengage the rational portion of my brain. I would not be getting through this without him. My son has shown maturity beyond his 16 years and has stepped up to help whenever we have needed him to do so. He has been amazing.

My mom flew up from Texas and stayed with us for a month during surgery and recovery. Her help in the hospital and while I was home recovering was tremendous, even when we just sat on the couch doing nothing. It was great to have her here. My sisters and dad have been wonderfully supportive, even if they can’t be here physically. Just knowing they are continually thinking of and praying for me is a huge comfort.

And my friends from childhood, high school, college, work, church, and various other connections have shown me so much love and support it’s overwhelming at times. I greatly appreciate every card, email, text, meal, and gift I have received. A few friends in particular have gone above and beyond to help me and my family through all of this and I love them dearly for it.

Stay connected

For strongly introverted me, it is really easy to slip away into a corner and not talk to anyone — even my family and friends no matter how much I love them. That’s just how I am. So I’ve tried to make a conscious effort to stay connected with people in order to not feel alone.

I also joined a couple of online support groups on Facebook, my favorite being one that is for pancreatic cancer patients and survivors only. People talk about their experiences, ask questions, share inspiration, or just bitch sometimes, which is completely understandable.

A few months ago, I reconnected with a childhood friend who was diagnosed with double hit non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma right about the time I started chemo. I hate that he’s going through this, but it’s nice having someone I know that I can talk to about chemo while we’re both dealing with it. We check in on each other and provide encouragement.

Feel the feels

Even though I’m generally doing okay, there are times when I just break down and cry. I have to allow myself to feel whatever I’m feeling because it makes dealing with it much easier. There hasn’t been much anger, mostly sadness, frustration, and worry. I tend to cry with those feelings, but getting the tears out helps me refocus and move forward.

Some things that have caused me to burst into tears through all of this are having to miss any of my son’s band performances, feeling like hell because of nausea and fatigue, realizing how awful the survival stats are for pancreatic cancer, and finding there are no bathroom cups in the hallway cabinet. To be fair…

To be fair, the bathroom cups incident happened on a day when I was nauseated, exhausted, in pain from hand-foot syndrome, and I was going that afternoon to get a cystoscopy to find out if I had bladder cancer, too. It wasn’t going to take much for me to lose it that particular day.

Remember this is not easy

When I do break down and cry over dumb stuff like bathroom cups, I remember to show myself some grace. Having cancer and dealing with treatment is tough.

And my cancer diagnosis doesn’t affect only me. It affects my family and anyone else who cares about me. So I try to extend that grace to them, too, because it’s hard to see someone you love go through something this serious.

Have the tough conversations

As soon as my husband and I realized pancreatic cancer was a strong probability, we started having some tough conversations. No one wants to talk about what will happen if they die in a few months, a year, or a few years.

Having those conversations from the very beginning, even before my official diagnosis, has allowed us to make contingency plans for various scenarios and even make some adjustments so we are prepared for almost anything. These plans and changes have helped reduce a lot of stress and allowed us to focus on keeping me alive and healthy for as long as possible.

Keep the faith

Faith is important to me and has always been a part of my life. Throughout all of this, I have never been angry at God or thought “why me?” I completely get how someone could feel this way, though, and don’t judge anyone who does. Perhaps I just figure God or the universe or whatever you want to call it didn’t give me cancer or allow it to happen. Shit just happens. (I need one of those t-shirts that say “I love Jesus, but I cuss a little.”)

I pray more often and might practice or express my faith a little differently now, but it’s still there. Probably stronger, too.

Live life

It would be very easy to say, “I’ll get back to normal after chemo.” Which would then lead to getting back to normal after the post-chemo scan. Then waiting to get back to normal after each three-month scan. Then six-month scans. Yearly scans. That would lead to living scan to scan and never getting back to life.

So I try to keep living my life each day as much as possible. The stupid pandemic isn’t helping much right now, but honestly I’d probably avoid a lot of indoor crowds when my white blood cell counts are low anyway. No need to pick up even a cold when my immune system is in the toilet.

I continue to work, thankfully from home, which provides a sense of normalcy and a distraction from the fact that I have a major health issue going on. I make it to as many of my son’s band performances as I can when I feel up to it and my immune system is relatively strong. I’m socially cautious and meet with a friend or two now and then, outside when possible.

Humor, love, support, exercise, and faith are all helping me cope with cancer and continue to live my best life, regardless of how much time I have left (and I hope there’s a lot left).

More pancreatic cancer posts:

• Getting a lung biopsy
• Cancer Possibly Has Returned
• Scanxiety
• My first Whippleversary
• One-year survivor
• Ring the bell!
• Coping with cancer
• Side quest: Pass a kidney stone
• Chemotherapy is weird
• The Whipple procedure recovery