it's been quite a year

"well none of us knows if we will be around tomorrow or not"

The standard response from people that do not understand.  True, but not the point.  Hang in there Maggie.

You got that right Roula, every day is a blessing that I am so grateful for!

(for which I am grateful?) 

Awhile ago I came across an article about feeling depressed after cancer treatment is over.  It really resonated with me and I've posted it several times on different threads and it seems to help others as well.  What I find interesting is it was written not by a woman after BC, but by a man after prostate cancer, and shows these feelings are very common among all survivors.  I think sometimes women are made to feel like they are being silly-nillies just mourning their vanity when in reality it goes so much deeper than that.

After Cancer, Ambushed by Depression

By Dana Jennings

I’m depressed.

I’m recovering well from an aggressive case of prostate cancer.  I haven’t had any treatment in months, and all of my physical signposts of health are pointing in the right direction.

Still, I’m depressed.

And I’ve been ambushed by it.  After more than one year of diagnosis, treatment and waiting.  It’s almost as if, finally and unexpectedly, my psyche heaved a sigh and gave itself permission to implode.

I’m not alone in this cancer-caused depression.  As many as 25 percent of cancer patients develop depression, according to the American Cancer Society.  That’s contrasted with about 7 percent of the general population.

This isn’t about sadness or melancholy.  It’s more profound than that.  Broadly, I have a keen sense of being oppressed, as if I were trapped, wrapped up in some thick fog coming off the North Atlantic.

To be more specific, I’m exhausted, unfocused and tap my left foot a lot in agitation.  I don’t much want to go anywhere- especially anyplace that’s crowded- and some days I can’t even bear the thought of picking up the phone or changing a light bulb.  All of this is often topped off by an aspirin-proof headache.

The fatigue frustrates me the most.  When I envision myself it’s as a body of motion, walking or running, not floundering in bed.  On one recent day, I slept till 10 in the morning- getting 11 hours of sleep- then took a nap from noon to 2.  And I was still tired.

I’ve had occasional depression over the years, but nothing as dogged as this.  When I first learned that I had prostate cancer, I wondered about depression.  But after the shock of the diagnosis wore off, I was sharp and clear-headed.  I wasn’t depressed as I went through treatment- surgery, radiation and hormone therapy.  I was buoyed by a kind of illness-induced adrenaline.

The bone-smoldering fatigue arrived in late spring/early summer, and intensified as summer deepened.  I thought that I might be depressed, but resisted the diagnosis, didn’t want to countenance the idea that I could be depressed after all of my treatment.

I stubbornly chalked up the fatigue to the lingering aftereffects of radiation and my fluctuating levels of testosterone.  But I was wrong.

I am seeing a psychiatrist who specialized in cancer patients, and have started a course in medication.  My doctor assures me that depression isn’t unusual among those who are on the far side of treatment.

Partly, I think, I’m grieving for the person I was before I learned I had cancer.  Mortality is no longer abstract, and a certain innocence has been lost.

And while the physical trauma is past, the stress lingers and brings with it days washed in fine shades of gray.  In the same way that radiation has a half-life, stress does to.  We all ache to be the heroes of our own tales, right?  Well, I’m not feeling too heroic these days.

Cancer pushes a lot of difficult buttons.  It lays bare our basic vulnerability and underlines the uncertainty of this life.  And prostate cancer attacks our culture’s ideal of manhood.  The steely eyed Marlboro Man isn’t expected to worry about incontinence and erectile dysfunction.

Cancer feels bleaker than other diseases.  Even though my health keeps improving, and there’s a good chance that I’m cancer free, I still feel stalked, as if the cancer were perched on my shoulder like some unrepentant imp.

It’s harder to write about the weight of depression than it is to write about prostate cancer and its physical indignities.  Cancer is clear biological bad luck.  But depression, no matter how much we know about it, makes part of me feel as if it’s somehow my fault, and that I’m guilty of something I can’t quite articulate.

This has been a difficult post to write because during my dark waltz with cancer I’ve depended on my natural optimism and my sense of humor to help see me through.  But depression blunts those traits.

In the end, though, I believe and trust in the healing power of the stories that we tell each other.  And I wouldn’t be truthful to you or myself if I ignored the fact that I’m depressed- even as I wait for a brisk wind out of the North to blow this fog of mine away. 

Kate, Thanks for posting that article. I have read it previously, but a cancer survivor can never read it enough. What he says is true for all of us.

That is a wonderful piece of writing, it made me quite emotional. I can easily see myself in it, in the sense that now that my surgeries are nearly over, I feel more irritated and flattened by the last six months than I have felt at any time during. I think the writer is right in saying your mind functions in a way it has to, to get you through the immediate crisis but then it almost burns out with the effort of it all once that crisis has been dealt with.



1openheart, I don't like to read 'just DCIS'. I feel that those of us who's cancer is not invasive, while obviously luckier than those whose is, have still suffered major trauma to our bodies and our minds. Sorry, I don't want to preach, but I get a bit upset at anything that seems to downplay this whole horrible experience - you can see that my head is in the about to implode stage haha!

crystalphm, You expressed perfectly how many of us feel. I hope it helps to know that you are not alone. Sometimes I feel that the people here are the only ones who truly understand what I am experiencing. Sending hugs to you.

What can I say that has not been said, I try to put it behind me but days like today when I am waiting on my mamo appt tommorrow, it is the first time since diagnosis that I have gone a full year. Nerves are sharp.  Depression comes and goes and I try to stay busy and around folks who understand. 

Since the end of active treatment (I am 3 1/2 years on the aromasin), I have re evaluated things in my life.  Job...career is sort of winding down really and working on a plan with a financial person to try to retire in 2 years or less.  It is weird as planners want to do a plan where you live till you are 95 and no way do I see that happening. But the stress of my job is not helping my health.  Much more tired that before treatment.  Have not done a spin class in a couple of years and come home from my gym, too tired to move much.

But this is my therapy

Today a very close friend who was a huge supporter of me this past year was diagnosed with breast cancer. I feel like I have been kicked in the gut. It has brought lots of emotions to the surface. I am going with her to the surgeon on Monday. I will be there for whatever she needs. Just never seems to end...

Oh Ginger....I am so sorry about your friend.  I know that kick in the gut feeling you are talking about.  I bet you will be a huge comfort and support for her, but I know you just wish it would end....you are just barely through your treatments.  Take care.

Ginger......it is sooooo unfortunate that your friend has been given this diagnosis but she is very fortunate to have you with her, especially at the beginning as you know what questions to ask and find out what type of cancer this is.  When I was diagnosed last August, a friend of mine who had gone through it a year before told me about the onco-type test.  I went in armed with that information but my oncologist already planned on running this test based on my type of tumor.  After the initial blow, we set out to educate ourselves about this disease.  Even though my mom is a 26+ year survivor of bc, I did not pay much attention to just how prevalent bc is.  On my last day of radiation in April I told my oncologist that and she said "breast cancer is very, very common."  Why.......that is something I cannot get past.  What was it that caused my cancer.  I have tried to let it go but it still is a question I have.  I do have family history but they told me my cancer may have had nothing to do with my mothers and I have read that 80% of women diagnosed with bc do not have a family history.  Go figure.  We just have to forge ahead with the treatments and Ginger is very lucky to have you there for that. 

Best to your friend and you,

Allagashmaggie 

Yikes, Esther.....I think you are living in my head. So many of the things you have written are exactly how I have been feeling since my DX in Sept '11.  Because I am not a "pink person" and did not have chemo, there were few outward signs of my surgery and treatment.  I was a small breasted athletic-type and more than several "friends" reassured me that I was lucky because no one would ever notice my unreconstructed, non-prostheticized (is that a word?) chest. Yeah, that really made me feel better when I was struggling.

I was back at work part-time within a week of my BMX, was full-time and never missed a day through radiation. I honestly suspect that people forgot I had cancer. I just didn't allow myself to act sick and I guess that didn't encourage people to act sympathetically. Or maybe they just didn't know how. I wonder if cannonballing into the pink pool with gusto is more of a  help to friends because it gives them a visible, social and almost fun way to rally round. Who knew there was a "right" way to do cancer? Trust me to get it wrong. ;-)

Now that I am dealing with the Tamoxifen and all of it's lovely SE's, along with my concurrent diagnosis of chronic lymphocytic leukemia (yes, '11 was a real pip of a year), I hear a lot about how I am an inspiration which I find puzzling. As you said, I am just doing as I have always done. Running out the door in the morning, that's the easy part......adjusting to the absolute rocking of my world, now that's tough.....

Frequent shoppers card for the PS?????  Geez.  The front desk girls at my PS's office are all perky and perfect.  The nurses are more like regular, lady next door type women.  I have to say that I do like my PS.  He is very approachable and down to earth.  He listens and answers and he has a sense of humor too.  

Pink....funny thing.  When my best friend was dx. 8 yrs ago, I was all into the Komen and pink rah rah stuff.  But when it was me...not so much.  I did not know how to feel in October last year (first pink washing month since my dx).  I was really uncomfortable with the whole thing...still am.  I appreciate the work that they do and am grateful that bc is not a disease that no one talks about any more, but somehow it all seems so superfluous.  When I can buy everything from pink toilet paper to pink batteries and pink stand mixers....it loses something in the translation.  Oh well, time to step off my soapbox!