'Normal' Remains Elusive

Today's blog is written by a dear friend who walks in Cancer World.

Her world shifted on March 30, 2006. Breast cancer. As she puts it, "I hit the trifecta. Chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation."

Her strength has returned, her surgical scars have healed, and it's a pretty "normal" life for NBC News correspondent Anne Thompson.

-- Laurie

"Normal," that's an ever-evolving, ever-elusive term in the cancer world.

When I was going through treatment, bald and on the verge of nausea five days out of every two weeks, I defined "normal" as having my own hair and energy back.

Today, my hair is back and by all accounts, I look "normal." So normal, that many of my friends who went through the slog with me in 2006 say they have to remind themselves I ever had cancer. "How are you?" has once again become a perfunctory question instead of one laced with concern and fear.

I may look normal, but I don't feel normal. I am on Tamoxifen, a drug that is supposed to keep my breast cancer from coming back. It has done its job for the last 26 months. It has kept cancer at bay, but it has also given me a laundry list of side effects. Every hour or two, I turn into the human rain forest, courtesy of "hot flashes" from the Tamoxifen. I can't remember the last good night's sleep I had. I can't fall asleep, and when I finally do, I wake up every time I sweat. So that means I am constantly exhausted. And I have this tire around my midsection that, despite eating healthy, jogging, and yoga, I can't seem to lose.

I could go on and on but you might think I am complaining. I am not complaining. I don't have cancer. I understand how lucky I am to be able to say that. But I am frustrated.

I've tried just about everything to lessen the side effects. At various times, I have stopped drinking caffeinated coffee and alcohol, and stopped eating spicy foods. I work out. I go to bed at a reasonable hour. I take Effexor and I am now doing acupuncture. I no longer have the ability to steam up a car window just by sitting next to it, but I still have hot flashes, sleeplessness, bloating, and lots of other issues.

Tamoxifen, like most things in the cancer world, is a blessing and a curse. It is saving my life, but making it harder too. I love and savor every day I have. Yet, despite appearances, "normal" still remains an elusive goal.

-- Anne Thompson

7:00 AM ET | 10-21-2008 | permalink

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