Ancient Healing

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BLOCKED EARS

My ears have been blocked twice this year, once at Christmas, when I managed to unblock them myself with a bottle of Ear-ex; the second time in March, when they were affecting my singing so badly, I decided to go and have them syringed professionally. The nurse who unblocked them was the same nurse who did the Well Woman clinic; and she reminded me that it had been 8 years since I had last been in for a Pap smear. So, duly chastened, I booked myself in for one of those a week later.

To cut a long story short, it came back 'borderline' which, in the normal course of events (i.e had I not had breast cancer), it would have merely been reported but not investigated, other than by a repeat smear 6 months later. Because I take Tamoxifen, however, my GP decided to refer me to the colposcopy clinic at the hospital, where a beady-eyed consultant gynaecologist, Mr Das (what a wonderful name for a gynae guy!) picked it up. A colposcopy exam, he said, would not give him a 'robust enough' result. So he has booked me in as a day surgical case for a hysteroscopy and ultrasound under general anaesthetic. Talk about one thing leading to another...

It turns out that several of my women friends (none of whom has - or has had -  cancer) have had this procedure, some of them several times, either because it didn't work the first time or because findings were inconclusive. My friend Rosie wrote that both her 'procedures' were managed by an 'overwhelmingly arrogant man in a bow tie, who spoke to my left ear.' At least Mr Das looked me in the eye and said he wasn't worried, and it wasn't urgent. But if he wasn't bloody well worried, why book me in for this procedure in the first place?

My friend, Lindsey, to whom I scurried for some emergency reiki and psyching up last week, tells me it's because doctors these days are so afraid of lawsuits, they have to be ultra careful. My brilliant oncologist, who pulled down the smear result on his screen when I reported these unfortunate events to him, said he wasn't worried at all - even when I said Mr Das had seemed unequivocal in his dislike of Tamoxifen. 'You're doing well on it,' Duncan said. 'But if  Mister-Doctor Das wants to take a look, just let him. ' (Pregnant pause.) 'That's not what you wanted to hear, is it?', he went on. Well no, not exactly.  'If he finds anything,' said Duncan, as positive as ever, 'All I'll do is take you off Tamoxifen for a couple of weeks and monitor your hormone levels. And if you need to come off it, I've got other things I can use.'

Why is Mr Das making such a fuss about Tamoxifen? Because, it seems, from what I can make out as fairly inconclusive (and non robust) studies, there is a minor risk of endometrial cancer from prolonged Tamoxifen use - like 10 years. (I have been taking it for three.) More disoncertingly, those women in the studies who did present with endometrial cancer had it already! 

I've been debating with myself whether or not to have this procedure at all. I've just kicked the hospital visits into touch with my excellent Herceptin-at-home treatment, and now Mr Das has mounted a rear-guard action (terrible pun). Lindsey said any biposy - or curettage in this case 'creates a vacuum which has to be filled.' Well, that's one way of looking at it. I am probably due for a clearing out in that department. I was on  repeated courses of antibiotics after my daughter was born, thanks to a tear and lots of stitching up by 2 surgeons, who stared into my nether regions and said they couldn't 'see the apex'. Why is it always men who go into this field of medicine? You'd expect to find more women in gynaecology and obstetrics these days; but not, it seems, here in Truro. Are there an equal number of women, I wonder, treating men with prostate problems? (Bet the answer is a big fat no.) 

Anyway, if it needs looking at, I guess it should be looked at. On the other hand, if it ain't broke, why fix it? And, of course, I have shied away from going to get things checked before - and look where that got me (hairless and breastless.) 

Best get on with it then.

Earning a living with cancer

Breast Cancer Care's latest policy campaign, relating to employment and breast cancer, got me thinking about my own employment history with the disease. 

Strictly speaking, I wasn't technically employed when I was diagnosed, but I was self-employed and thus reliant on a number of part-time and short term contracts to keep me going - a tall order, always, for a lone parent with zero maintenance and a dependent child to support. Thanks to clever investment planning - not my cleverness, it has to be said, because I am a disaster when it comes to money, I had the right sort of insurance policy (thank you, Chris Davies of Newquay Investment Services who directed me to lifecare with Axa Equity and Law) which paid out within three weeks of my consultant sending in all the gory confirmations. This meant that I could jettison most of my jobs and pay off my house and still remain life-insured at a comfortable premium of thirteen pounds a month. At that time (three years ago), I thought I might not last long and I wanted both to see the colour of the insurance money and spend what I thought may be my last few years taking it VERY easy and enjoying myself.

But I survived, and this year, I have had to address the question that I might, just might, still have ten or more employment years ahead of me. I've never concealed the fact I have breast cancer, and it's been good to see that previous contractors are still willing to recontract me. This could, of course, be because the contracts are short term or part time - or that I have managed somehow, over the years, to make myself a sought-after commodity in certain education circles!  I have no idea what it is like for those seeking full time work in my position. But I suspect it can be tricky, which is why the Breast Cancer employment campaign is worth supporting. This issue doesn't just affect women (and men) with breast cancer - it affects anyone experiencing a chronic or life limiting/threatening condition. We need to stand up and be counted. WE AREN'T DEAD YET! We can still count!

Topic of Cancer: BREAST CANCER CARE EMPLOY CAMPAIGN

www.breastcancercare.org.uk/emply

BREAST CANCER CARE EMPLOY CAMPAIGN

Breast Cancer Care are launching a new campaign in May and June relating to best practice in the workplace for employees with breast cancer. The link is at

www.breastcancercare.org.uk/employ

Non-Cancer Types

Reading Amber's message about the definition of cancer personalities as types who can't say no to favours they don't want to do, or to put-up-ons in general regarding their time, expertise, even their bodies, got me thinking about the opposite personality type to this: the ones who don't give an inch. 

You find them in all walks of life, even in professions which are meant to be vocational (i.e. 'caring'). I've met  a couple this last year or so in local musical circles, and I shudder to think of all the little children taking music exams or auditioning before these asocial men (they happen to be men...) with zero people skills: an insensitivity that isn't so much chilling as cryogenic! I've seen grown women in choirs, women who have borne children, held down responsible jobs, passed serious examinations, quake in their shoes before the MD of a provincial choral society.  I used to think it was funny, until it happened to me. Then I slapped myself and reminded myself of what I have achieved, the rich life I have experienced beyond the limits of the cathedral cloister or rehearsal room. I thought about the personality type, and how these anally-retentive and charmless martinets are more to be pitied than feared - even though they probably don't get cancer! 

Having cancer readies you, and steadies you, to face pretty much anyone and anything. This is not necessarily a good thing, of course; and definitely not a state to be envied or sought after. But it is in many ways a privilege being able to laugh at what isn't important, or only important within a little kingdom in  limited locality. The wide world is bigger than that, and to survive, you have to learn to put yourself out there, in the top percentile. No one can give you permission to write or sing or make music, or make a fool of yourself. More often than not, it's the mediocrities in this world (the Salieris, not the Mozarts) who set themselves up as permission-givers (and often, too, by cowardly proxy); but once you learn to see them without their clothes (or on the loo), their power slips away. Although they probably don't get cancer...

My oncologist (a Mozart, not a Salieri - although I hope he doesn't die so young) rang me yesterday to put my mind at rest about the recent smear. An atrophic cell, which could indeed be down to the Tamoxifen, but no need to call for the heavy artillery yet. Duncan is in the right job for the front-line branch of medicine that is cancer. I'm so glad he isn't playing the organ in some cathedral or directing a loss-making choir. A physician, like a musician, should be an artist (even if that implies a certain open-hearted vulnerability). It's more than an ability or capability. It's a gift.

A Cancer Personality?

Amber Smithwhite sent me a copy of an article in this month's Mensa magazine, entitled: 'Is Life Really So Wonderful?" (Ghislaine Vaughan in Mensa, May 08)

Yes, it is - and it is to be hung onto and treasured for as long as it is given to us. But the comment on what may or not constitute 'a cancer personality' struck me with the force of truth.

Ghislaine Vaughan writes: "I once read a book about cancer in which the author, Bernie Siegel, a surgeon with many years' experience of talking to, operating on and generally supporting people with the disease, had come to the conclusion that people who get cancer have a certain type of personality. He even went so far as to suggest that you could tell whether someone was a likely candidate for cancer by asking them the following question, which he had found to be the bottom line: "If a friend asked you a favour and you didn't want to do it, would you do it anyway?" Apparently, if you say 'yes' to this question, you are far more likely to develop cancer than if you say 'no'.
It became clear from this idea that those with a cancer personality are in general far more likely to give up their own wishes in favour of those of somebody else. Bernie Siegel gives many examples of how his patients recovered or had long periods of remission when they were encouraged to pursue their dreams and aspirations, including one young man whose prognosis was bleak until he began playing the violin. He had always wanted to study music but had been pushed into a career as a lawyer by his family. As soon as he gave up law in favour of the violin, he got better."

All of which strengthens my resolve to keep up my studies in singing and piano and take my music diploma next year. I got ninety three percent in my last theory assignment, which was a boost to the morale in a week when I had an abnormal (well, 'borderline') smear result. I now have to have something called a colcoscopy - ironical, really, since the reason for putting off the smear test for so long, while I was undergoing treatment for breast cancer, was that I thought I really couldn't cope with any more humiliating poking and prodding. Well, now I think I can. And I will. Because it is worth it - it is. It's a wonderful life.