Thursday, July 29, 2010
The Addict by Michael Stein
This book is a MUST READ for all pharmcy people. Written by a physician who treats addicts as an inside look into the addict's head. That's what I wanted to get when I picked up this book, an inside look into why an addict does what he/she does. As a pharmacist, I struggle to understand and not judge when I am helping these people. I believe that they have a medical problem that carries severe personal and social burdens. Addicts will often act out at me at the pharmacy counter. It's very hard not a take their outbursts and insults personally. I just say to myself that their disease is talking, not really the patient. If I could just understand their head, then maybe I could help them better. Maybe we could have a positive interaction instead of the inevitable conflict that spirals down into anger for both of us. This book helped me a little with that. Mostly, Stein let me look into his head. I loved this. He had the same doubts. He has some misgivings. Some days, he wonders if he is actually helping his patients at all. He is so honest and forthcoming about addiction from the treatment side. I can personally relate when he says that a good day is when he is moved by a patient, when he is reminded that he is involved. My favorite quote is "I am a great protector of sad memories and I carry my own, which I visit regularly". I think that this shows us that we are not so different, the addicts and the not-addicts. The mystery is in why that addict chooses their path. Stein reminds us that some economists say that substance abuse follows the same economic pattern as basic supply and demand. My question is this, why so some of us choose that market? We may never know an answer exact enough for my scientific brain. Stein reassures me though, that I am not the only healthcare provider who struggles with these questions and just-out-of-grasp answers.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Now accepting all hat donations!
One of the most common side effects of chemotherapy is hairloss. It's not IF you lose you hair, but WHEN you lose your hair. This is usually about 14 days after your first treatment. I am at day 7. I know that I will be bald in about a week.
Since I first got the news that I had Stage 3 ovarian cancer, I have tried to maintain some amount of normalcy in my life. I have tried to prepare for treatment in order to minimize the impact on my normal life. I read all the information the nurses and volunteers give me. As a matter of fact, I usually read everything twice. I try to make healthy nutrient rich food choices in my diet, giving up many of my favorite things like coffee, beer & junk food. I learned all about my ostomy and the diet restrictions and the products needed to care for Oscar. Yes, I named my ostomy. Sometimes he is quite vocal and grouchy, and he is a slob. He doesn't clean up after himself at all. I learned all about my wound-vac machine and how to change the dressings for my slowly healing incision. I learned how to change the collection container filled with blood, serum and pus. I had a lot to learn, and quickly. I got a super short hair cut to prepare for the inevitable hair loss. I think all these things helped me to maintain my sense of control over what is happening to me. My sense of empowerment was bolstered by all these activities.
Now, about 12 weeks post-surgery, I have settled into the routine of being a cancer patient. My new diet and food choices are more habit now. I prepare most of my food and am looking forward to using the recipes from a new cookbook I bought today, "The Cancer-Fighting Kitchen". I have plenty of time to shop for groceries and cook because my doctor extended my disability leave until the end of the year. I have tamed Oscar. He usually behaves these days. Dr. Lim removed the wound-vac dressings and my incisions are sealed and healing more every day. I can pass for a normal person in public. I don't look sick or encumbered with medical equipment . You might think, "Yay, that sounds so good for my friend. You go girl!". But passing for normal denies my truth.
My truth will be revealed to all by my bald head. My sense of empowerment is wobbly. I need to redefine my sense of self. My dad has volunteered to clip my hair into a super stylish buzzcut. But this will force me into the bright daylight of the reality of having cancer. I am still skirting the shadowy sidelines, not yet wanting to be recognized as a cancer patient by passersby. So I am going to take the leap. I will take up my dad's offer and get a super stylish buzzcut before I wake up to clumps of hair on my pillow. A girl needs empowerment.
Since I first got the news that I had Stage 3 ovarian cancer, I have tried to maintain some amount of normalcy in my life. I have tried to prepare for treatment in order to minimize the impact on my normal life. I read all the information the nurses and volunteers give me. As a matter of fact, I usually read everything twice. I try to make healthy nutrient rich food choices in my diet, giving up many of my favorite things like coffee, beer & junk food. I learned all about my ostomy and the diet restrictions and the products needed to care for Oscar. Yes, I named my ostomy. Sometimes he is quite vocal and grouchy, and he is a slob. He doesn't clean up after himself at all. I learned all about my wound-vac machine and how to change the dressings for my slowly healing incision. I learned how to change the collection container filled with blood, serum and pus. I had a lot to learn, and quickly. I got a super short hair cut to prepare for the inevitable hair loss. I think all these things helped me to maintain my sense of control over what is happening to me. My sense of empowerment was bolstered by all these activities.
Now, about 12 weeks post-surgery, I have settled into the routine of being a cancer patient. My new diet and food choices are more habit now. I prepare most of my food and am looking forward to using the recipes from a new cookbook I bought today, "The Cancer-Fighting Kitchen". I have plenty of time to shop for groceries and cook because my doctor extended my disability leave until the end of the year. I have tamed Oscar. He usually behaves these days. Dr. Lim removed the wound-vac dressings and my incisions are sealed and healing more every day. I can pass for a normal person in public. I don't look sick or encumbered with medical equipment . You might think, "Yay, that sounds so good for my friend. You go girl!". But passing for normal denies my truth.
My truth will be revealed to all by my bald head. My sense of empowerment is wobbly. I need to redefine my sense of self. My dad has volunteered to clip my hair into a super stylish buzzcut. But this will force me into the bright daylight of the reality of having cancer. I am still skirting the shadowy sidelines, not yet wanting to be recognized as a cancer patient by passersby. So I am going to take the leap. I will take up my dad's offer and get a super stylish buzzcut before I wake up to clumps of hair on my pillow. A girl needs empowerment.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Ovarian Cancer Research Fund
OCRF
Sleeping the day away after my first chemo treatment, I dreamily remember a television ad I saw promoting a QVC sponsored event that raises money for the early detection of ovarian cancer. The symptoms are vague and easy to attribute to the natural process of aging. Symptoms like bloating, tiredness, backache, constipation can be common complaints for any woman, any day of her life. Perhaps if we all were more aware, 80% of us would not have to be initially diagnosed with Stage 3 Ovarian Cancer. Perhaps we would have sought medical care earlier, during the first stages, where survival rates are remarkably higher. We NEED to spread the word.
Sleeping the day away after my first chemo treatment, I dreamily remember a television ad I saw promoting a QVC sponsored event that raises money for the early detection of ovarian cancer. The symptoms are vague and easy to attribute to the natural process of aging. Symptoms like bloating, tiredness, backache, constipation can be common complaints for any woman, any day of her life. Perhaps if we all were more aware, 80% of us would not have to be initially diagnosed with Stage 3 Ovarian Cancer. Perhaps we would have sought medical care earlier, during the first stages, where survival rates are remarkably higher. We NEED to spread the word.
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