Post by Nadica (She/Her) on Jul 17, 2024 22:37:38 GMT
I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I’m glad it wasn’t long COVID - Published July 16, 2024
When I was told I had grade three triple negative breast cancer, I wasn’t surprised. That wasn’t because I had a dream about it a few months earlier, which I did, but because when I was lying on my back in bed one day and felt a hard lump, I knew immediately it was different to anything I’d found before.
The problem is, I’m told, all boobs are different, and so are cancers. I’d been to see doctors a few times before with what, I thought, were suspicious lumps, and all of them had turned out to be fine. When I was 18, I was even shamed by a doctor for showing her something I was worried about. Together, this meant I didn’t do regular breast exams before that point.
My cancer isn’t genetic or hormonal. When I asked an oncologist if it was lifestyle-related, she said she didn’t discuss those kinds of factors because it could come across as “judgy”. But for a lot of us, the two are intrinsically linked. I would argue cancer and lifestyle are always linked in our minds; we’re told to avoid cancer-causing UV rays, preserved meats, chemicals, alcohol, high-voltage electricity – among many other potential carcinogens. And of course, we mustn’t overeat, be too sedentary, be too stressed.
If you spent your life trying to avoid cancer, there’d be little time for anything else. But nonetheless, cancer is often in the back of our minds.
I was thinking about my lifestyle choices at the GP’s office the day after I found the lump. I’ve always enjoyed being social and have often had too many drinks. Did I regret it? No. When you have cancer, it’s a bit too late to worry. As the doctor felt the lump, she said: “I don’t like this.”
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Over the next two weeks, tests confirmed I did have cancer and a week after that I began treatment.
Treatment sucks. There’s no other way to put it. I’m having chemotherapy and immunotherapy, and I am always tired. Exercise helps but unsurprisingly, my motivation isn’t great. My body feels alien, and I don’t feel like myself. Although I’m losing my hair, that’s the thing I care about least. I’d give it all away to not feel constantly sick.
But there’s a flipside. I have never felt more loved. The number of people who have written to me, talked to me, brought me food, offered help and support has blown me away.
I’m also grateful to be getting the best treatment I can. Immunotherapy, still relatively new for breast cancer, directs the immune system to attack the cancer. According to my tests, it should be especially effective for me and means I will hopefully avoid the worst part of chemotherapy, something I am thankful for every day.
I have renewed gratitude for simple things like my family and friends, my dog, the sunshine on a winter day and trips to the countryside. My anxiety has taken a back seat.
It’s also got me thinking about people living with other long-term illnesses. For many reasons, I am so glad I have breast cancer not long COVID.
Firstly, my cancer was never terminal and there is a clear path to a cure. Doctors know a huge amount about breast cancer, and it’s actually really common – some experts estimate the number is much higher than the often quoted one in 10 figure. The fact I will be cured is absolutely central to my ability to have a good attitude to what’s happening to me. I can (and do) say to myself: “It’s not forever, it will end.” For long COVID sufferers, there’s no such comfort.
Secondly, people understand what cancer is. They know that treatment is rough, and usually have someone close to them who’s going through it or who’s been through it. With long COVID, there’s still a huge knowledge gap – most people generally don’t understand what it is or how it feels, which correlates to less sympathy and practical help. Among some, there is an attitude that people suffering long COVID are at best a bit dramatic, and at worst imagining it. That it’s “all in the mind”.
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While I have been cocooned by love and support, my friends with long COVID never got anything like that, even though their day-to-day lives were just as impacted as mine.
Also, my workplace has been incredibly accommodating. I am able to take time off to rest and heal as I need to. My work has been absorbed by understanding teammates, and I have flexibility to work from home or take time off when I need it. The people I know with long COVID (mostly women over 40) have had to work through or look after children as if nothing is happening to them. Some workplaces are supportive towards long COVID sufferers, but it’s certainly not a given.
But more than that, despite COVID-19 still raging in Australia, it barely makes the news any more. Everyone has “pandemic fatigue”. But where does it leave long COVID sufferers? Not only are they still vulnerable, but they face an indifferent community of people who don’t want to hear it.
Of course, it’s important to be kind to people with cancer. But the kindness I’ve had showered on me should be extended to people suffering with the lesser-understood, but just as painful conditions. Particularly, those with no end date in sight.
When I was told I had grade three triple negative breast cancer, I wasn’t surprised. That wasn’t because I had a dream about it a few months earlier, which I did, but because when I was lying on my back in bed one day and felt a hard lump, I knew immediately it was different to anything I’d found before.
The problem is, I’m told, all boobs are different, and so are cancers. I’d been to see doctors a few times before with what, I thought, were suspicious lumps, and all of them had turned out to be fine. When I was 18, I was even shamed by a doctor for showing her something I was worried about. Together, this meant I didn’t do regular breast exams before that point.
My cancer isn’t genetic or hormonal. When I asked an oncologist if it was lifestyle-related, she said she didn’t discuss those kinds of factors because it could come across as “judgy”. But for a lot of us, the two are intrinsically linked. I would argue cancer and lifestyle are always linked in our minds; we’re told to avoid cancer-causing UV rays, preserved meats, chemicals, alcohol, high-voltage electricity – among many other potential carcinogens. And of course, we mustn’t overeat, be too sedentary, be too stressed.
If you spent your life trying to avoid cancer, there’d be little time for anything else. But nonetheless, cancer is often in the back of our minds.
I was thinking about my lifestyle choices at the GP’s office the day after I found the lump. I’ve always enjoyed being social and have often had too many drinks. Did I regret it? No. When you have cancer, it’s a bit too late to worry. As the doctor felt the lump, she said: “I don’t like this.”
Loading
Over the next two weeks, tests confirmed I did have cancer and a week after that I began treatment.
Treatment sucks. There’s no other way to put it. I’m having chemotherapy and immunotherapy, and I am always tired. Exercise helps but unsurprisingly, my motivation isn’t great. My body feels alien, and I don’t feel like myself. Although I’m losing my hair, that’s the thing I care about least. I’d give it all away to not feel constantly sick.
But there’s a flipside. I have never felt more loved. The number of people who have written to me, talked to me, brought me food, offered help and support has blown me away.
I’m also grateful to be getting the best treatment I can. Immunotherapy, still relatively new for breast cancer, directs the immune system to attack the cancer. According to my tests, it should be especially effective for me and means I will hopefully avoid the worst part of chemotherapy, something I am thankful for every day.
I have renewed gratitude for simple things like my family and friends, my dog, the sunshine on a winter day and trips to the countryside. My anxiety has taken a back seat.
It’s also got me thinking about people living with other long-term illnesses. For many reasons, I am so glad I have breast cancer not long COVID.
Firstly, my cancer was never terminal and there is a clear path to a cure. Doctors know a huge amount about breast cancer, and it’s actually really common – some experts estimate the number is much higher than the often quoted one in 10 figure. The fact I will be cured is absolutely central to my ability to have a good attitude to what’s happening to me. I can (and do) say to myself: “It’s not forever, it will end.” For long COVID sufferers, there’s no such comfort.
Secondly, people understand what cancer is. They know that treatment is rough, and usually have someone close to them who’s going through it or who’s been through it. With long COVID, there’s still a huge knowledge gap – most people generally don’t understand what it is or how it feels, which correlates to less sympathy and practical help. Among some, there is an attitude that people suffering long COVID are at best a bit dramatic, and at worst imagining it. That it’s “all in the mind”.
Loading
While I have been cocooned by love and support, my friends with long COVID never got anything like that, even though their day-to-day lives were just as impacted as mine.
Also, my workplace has been incredibly accommodating. I am able to take time off to rest and heal as I need to. My work has been absorbed by understanding teammates, and I have flexibility to work from home or take time off when I need it. The people I know with long COVID (mostly women over 40) have had to work through or look after children as if nothing is happening to them. Some workplaces are supportive towards long COVID sufferers, but it’s certainly not a given.
But more than that, despite COVID-19 still raging in Australia, it barely makes the news any more. Everyone has “pandemic fatigue”. But where does it leave long COVID sufferers? Not only are they still vulnerable, but they face an indifferent community of people who don’t want to hear it.
Of course, it’s important to be kind to people with cancer. But the kindness I’ve had showered on me should be extended to people suffering with the lesser-understood, but just as painful conditions. Particularly, those with no end date in sight.