Bloganthropy and Lymphedema

A little bit of good goes a long way.

A couple years ago, two women named Rachel and Robin created a new product – a compression sleeve that they and their friends would be willing to wear to control their lymphedema, swelling in the arms caused by the removal of lymph nodes during a mastectomy.  They started a company called LympheDIVAs; Rachel’s brother Josh and their parents continued to improve the product and market it to other breast cancer survivors after her death. 

Carole lost her cousin Crickett to metastatic breast cancer too, but instead of wailing at the universe, Carole and her aunt Bonnie set up a foundation to help other breast cancer survivors feel good about themselves again.  Carole sent an email offering help to survivors, and one copy landed in Sue‘s in-box. 

Sue forwarded the email to me, offering me the opportunity to be pampered a little, because she knew I was suffering from chemotherapy again, and it touched my heart.  My heart was kinda busy, though, because my physical therapist Jonelle had mentioned casually while working on the lymphedema in my arm that it was so great that I was wearing a lymphedema sleeve to control it — many of her patients couldn’t afford one.  When I arrived home and checked my in-box, there was the opportunity to make a connection and to fix this wrong that lay on my heart — to help others have what I have, the opportunity to control this medical condition at home, without weekly trips to the physical therapist.

Three phone calls later, Josh and Carole agreed to provide donated lymphedema sleeves to patients in need, and the lymphedema sleeve project was on.  The problem then was how to make people aware of the opportunity, so Sue and I sent a couple emails and a few tweets and then The DC Moms and twitter friends and blog friends and friends of friends stepped up to help, to spread the word, one tweet, one post, one update, one person at a time.

I wrote a post, Sue wrote a post, Minky wrote a post, and the news gained traction.  Over 100 people tweeted the links that week.  150 people shared a link on Facebook.  Over 40 bloggers added their posts to ours, in attempt to saturate the internet with the news, so that a woman in need, searching for help to afford lymphedema sleeves or other post-mastectomy gear, could find it. 

Kristen, Jessica, Amie, Joanne, Marty, Victoria, and Elizabeth then put their money where their voice is and donated $1/comment on their lymphedema post.  Others went to donate so that additional sleeves could be bought as needed, and before we knew it, $1518 had been sent to Crickett’s Answer for Cancer by over 20 people, and 36 new breast cancer survivors were helped in the first 40 days.  

On Friday, the project was recognized by Bloganthropy, with me named as January’s Blogger of the Month.  Thank you, Bloganthropy, but the award really belongs to all of the bloggers who helped saturate this part of the ‘net with notices that there is now help available for breast cancer survivors who need but can’t afford compression sleeves to control their lymphedema. 

Thank you, friends.  Every day, your actions remind me that there is indeed good in the world.  Here are the posts that were written in support of this effort, and tweeted ’round the world:

Aimee: http://smilingmama.blogspot.com/2011/01/surviving-in-style-free-lymphedema.html
Amie: http://www.mammaloves.com/2011/01/wanna-join-an-army/
Amy:  http://teachmama.com/2011/01/new-for-us-friday-help-for-cancer-patients.html
Ann Bibby: http://www.care2.com/causes/health-policy/blog/-blogger-reaches-out-to-breast-cancer-patients/
Becky:  http://www.morebirthdays.com/blog/featured/the-power-of-one-helping-fellow-survivors/
BlogHer (Mel): http://www.blogher.com/start-out-your-new-year-helping-great-project?wrap=blogher-topics/conditions-ailments&crumb=32399
C. Mom:  http://www.lacaramamma.com/2011/01/06/can%E2%80%99t-afford-lymphedema-sleeves/
Crunchy Chewy Mama: http://crunchychewymama.com/index.php/when-a-friend-gets-cancer/
Dr. Kathleen Ruddy: http://breastcancerbydrruddy.com/2011/01/25/recycling-information-help-for-lymphedema/
Elaine:  http://connorandhelen.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html
Elizabeth: http://halfchangedworld.com/2011/01/for-whymommy/ Florinda: http://www.3rsblog.com/2011/01/for-whymommy-help-for-cancer-survivors.html
Garza Girl: http://www.garzagirls.com/2011/01/24/f-off-cancer/ and http://www.garzagirls.com/tag/whymommy/
Ilinap: http://www.dirtandnoise.com/2011/01/breast-friends-and-a-39-mile-walk-in-the-park.html
J.J. http://caffeineandaprayer.com/2011/01/09/lymphedema-sleeves-real-help-for-breast-cancer-survivors/
Jane:  http://jane.whiteoaks.com/2011/01/08/lymphedema-sleeves-demystified/
Jessica:  http://aparentinsilverspring.com/2011/01/a-parent-in-silver-spring-on-cnn-how-the-story-changed-how-im-changing-it-again-for-cricketts-answer.html
Joanne:  http://www.punditmom.com/2011/01/princesses-fighting-cancer
Jodifur:  http://jodifur.com/2011/01/cant-afford-lymphedema-sleeves.html
Justice Stacey:  http://mamalaw.com/2011/01/cant-afford-lymphedema-sleeves/
Khara: http://babymammachronicles.blogspot.com/2011/01/help-for-breast-cancer-patients.html
Kim: http://www.sheposts.com/node/859
Kristen: http://www.motherhooduncensored.net/motherhood_uncensored/2011/01/whymommy.html
Lara: http://chickennuggetsofwisdom.com/2011/01/24/no-princess-fights-alone/
Leticia:  http://www.techsavvymama.com/2011/01/no-princess-fights-alone-join-army.html
Liz: http://www.thisfullhouse.com/reviews/2011/01/good-causes-cricketts-answer-to-cancer.html
Lynn:  http://organicmania.com/2011/01/07/helping-those-who-need-it-most/
Marty: http://canapesun.blogspot.com/2011/01/lymphedema-sleeves-for-every-survivor.html and http://canapesun.blogspot.com/2011/01/lets-all-be-copycats-raising-money-for.html
Mayberry Mom: http://mayberrymom.com/2011/02/04/on-not-fighting-alone/
Mel: http://www.stirrup-queens.com/2011/01/322nd-friday-blog-roundup/
Michele: http://scrapsofmygeeklife.com/everything-else /cant-afford-lymphedema-sleeves/
Michelle:  http://www.wifeandmommy.com/cant-afford-lymphedema-sleeves/
Minky:  http://dialmforminky.com/2011/01/need-help-affording-lymphedema-sleeves/
Mod*Mom: http://www.momblognetwork.com/%5Btermpath-raw%5D/lymph-edema-sleeve-giveaway-12000
Robin: http://noteverstill.blogspot.com/2011/01/rare-psa-lymphedema.html
Robin: http://wwwmylifeasitis.blogspot.com/2011/01/cant-afford-lymphedema-sleeves.html
Sam: http://www.momblognetwork.com/%5Btermpath-raw%5D/help-our-friends-support-crickett-s-answer
Stella: http://imstell.wordpress.com/2011/01/06/advocacy-and-lymphedema-sleeves/
Thien-Kim: http://www.imnotthenanny.com/2011/01/cant-afford-lymphedema-sleeves-new-help.html
ThisFullHouse @ Wellsphere: http://www.wellsphere.com/parenting-article/for-whymommy-give-cancer-the-virtual-bitchslap-it-deserves/1325109
UrbanMama:  http://spa.typepad.com/mamas/2011/01/index.html
Vera: http://breast4healing.amplify.com/2011/01/25/361/
Victoria: http://www.themummychronicles.com/2011/01/copy-cat-for-cancer.html
Wendy: http://wendyharpham.typepad.com/healthy_survivorship/2011/02/help-for-patients-with-lymphedema.html

This effort was recognized by writers at the American Cancer Society, Bloganthropy, BlogHer, Care2, Mom Blog Magazine, and ShePosts as being an exciting community effort.  Thank you all.  And if I missed your post or it hasn’t gone up yet?  Let me know.  I’d be thrilled to add even more!

We are GO for treatment!

Hooray!  My white blood cell count is UP and has returned to the normal range!  I’m still tired but so much better and I can restart treatment tonight.  Am so, so happy!

(It feels so selfish to share this silly little bit of news with you, but if I can’t share the good news, then this blog would be a really sad space, wouldn’t it?  And I do NOT want that!)

On another topic, I haven’t let this recent setback keep me from working on goals over at Women in Planetary Science – did you see the latest planetary science press release touting the “man made” hole in a comet?  Sigh.  Here’s the letter I wrote to NASA  explaining why gender-neutral language matters.  Thanks to bon, Veronica, and other feminist friends (and new friends) for helping to explain the situation on an earlier post, when I was taken to task by strangers who said, in effect, that words don’t matter, and it’s just fine to call us all men.

Neutropenia

Neutropenia is a common but yucky side effect that affects about half of cancer patients on chemotherapy or treatment with a biological agent (like Nexavar).  When a cancer patient is neutropenic, it means that her white blood cell count is low and she is much more suceptible to infection.  She is given direction to avoid possible sources of infection, to stay away from crowds, to wash hands and insist that others wash hands before coming into contact with her, and to change her diet to avoid the risk of infection from food. 

All foods must be freshly cooked.  None can come from restaurants or uncontrolled sources.  Bread must be bagged and not homemade.  Cutting boards must be changed between preparation of meats and other foods.  No deli meat.  No deli cheese.  No hand-packed or soft ice cream or froyo.  No soft cheese.  No popcorn.  Nothing from a bakery.  No raw veggies, fresh fruits, except those with a very thick skin (oranges and bananas), or dried fruits.  No spices, salad bars, buffets, or restaurants.

I’m pretty sure the guidelines would say no contact with little children who bring home infections from preschool, but what can I do?  I have two who need me, and one is home sick today.

That’s it. Enough with this cancer stuff.

I got sucked in.

and without realizing it, I got stuck in the identity of “cancer patient”. Not astrophysicist. Not change agent. Not super(busy) mom. Not friend, or equal partnered-spouse.

It was an accident. And it was a mistake.

It was a mistake that (along with sky-high blood pressure and racing heartbeat from my trial medication) landed me in the hospital two weeks ago, and that has caused me no end of terrible thoughts as I suffered as my body got used to new heavy-duty trial medication and what turned out to be a kidney infection (or infected kidney stone?) on top of that. I was in bed for almost a week this time, on top of similar trouble just two weeks ago, and it’s not a good place for my head to be. And when even doctors shake their heads sadly at your patient history, it just reinforces that, and I’ve seen a few lately.

I thought, I honestly thought, that I was dying.

But I’m not. Well, no more so than we all are, said my oncologist just now, and I needed to hear that. I needed to hear that a lot.

Yes, I have Stage IV cancer. Yes, again, the fourth cancer in less than four years. Yes, it sucks. Yes, my next PET scan is scheduled for April, and we may see bad things. But we may see GOOD things. There is real hope that this will work, and I have to cling to that in more than a pretty little poetic way.

But more than that, I need to forget about it sometimes too. I need to spend more mornings doing things like making homemade frosting with my kids, and volunteering at their school. I need to throw myself into the work I love, and remember why I love science. I need to be my husband’s dinner partner again, instead of the woman he has to bring things to because she’s too weak to get out of the damn bed.

And to do that, I need to leave this cancer identity here, at the hospital, today.

And I need your help. In my toddler planet email box are nearly 700 emails. Some are brimming with excitement, full of ideas for projects that people want me to help them with, to be the face of cancer patients, to advocate, to raise money, and I need to say no. Some are ideas that I started, like blogging my clinical trial experience for ACS or the lymphedema sleeve connection that I made and asked you to help me publicize, but that then got out of control. Some are people wanting to do things for me, to send me things, to take my picture, to tell me about Cleaning for a Reason that will clean my house, to help. To help. Some people just want to visit the sick, and we are told explicitly to do that in the Bible and in faith traditions, and it’s lovely and wonderful and generous and

I can’t take it.

I don’t know how to say no to kindness, but I need to learn.

Because I need to get out of bed, push myself a little more each day, and find those other parts of ME again, to make this life that I’m fighting so hard for really be worth it again.

I’m taking extraordinary measures to live.

It needs to be MY life again. Not that of a cancer patient, living with either a fear or an expectation of death.

To sum up (and I’m sorry to ramble), I asked my oncologist today to tell me, straight out, whether I was dying or not. She said not now, and that there are more chemotherapy drugs to try if the trial drugs don’t work. We need to try this. She wouldn’t do this if she felt it was time. And there is hope of getting better.

After all that, I had still had trouble understanding her words, given how I feel, so I asked her, in mom-terms: So, should I sign the kids up for swimming lessons or call hospice? She looked me straight in the eyes, put her hand on mine, and said

Swimming lessons. No question.

But first, friends, I have some work to do in that email box. I’ve had trouble finding the words, but I think I have them now: “No, thank you.”

If you get that email this week? I love you. I love that you were so thoughtful. I love that you care about me. But I can’t act like a patient anymore, unless I want to keep being one. And I don’t. I want to take my kids to swimming lessons!

Edited to add: My labs just came back. Neutropenic. (My white blood cell count is too low.). No treatment this week. No crowds. Lots and lots of washing of hands for me and everyone around me. Did this cause the weakness that made me so afraid that my body was shutting down? I dunno, but it surely didn’t help.