September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month

Know the signs!

In autumn of 2014, I began experiencing some very subtle, very gradual changes in my body. It started with me feeling tired and run down, but I had chalked up the fatigue as related to  starting a new, demanding work schedule. I noticed that some mornings, when I woke up, I was slightly nauseous. One afternoon, while sitting at my desk at work, I told my co-worker that I felt an odd twinge in my lower abdomen, and it felt “as if my spleen was enlarged”. 

“Maybe you should get that checked out?”, she replied.
I brushed it off and went about my busy work schedule.

As the months passed, I noticed that I had to pee more often.  I began to feel bloated all of the time. I was constipated, and started taking fiber supplements & probiotics. I ate prunes and drank lots of water, but would only find mild occasional relief in the form of “pencil poop”. As winter set in, I grew more fatigued, to the point that I would need to find a quiet place to nap during my lunch breaks at work. Over the months, on two separate occasions, I had a very sudden, very urgent need to pee. One evening, I realized that the only thing that I ate during the day was 4 tablespoons of oatmeal and a few bites of a salad and I still felt full at 10 pm. My pants later stopped fitting me around the waist.

Ovarian cancer is no fun.
Pencil poop is no fun.
Mr. Hankey is TOTALLY fun.

All of theses symptoms were gradual and happened over the course of about 5 months. At the end of December 2014 my lower abdomen started to extend out, as if there was a small balloon inside of it. By the end of January, it was much more noticeable and I was constantly uncomfortable. Sensing something was wrong, I made an appointment with my doctor. 

Thankfully, my doctor listened to me, and over the course of another month and a half I was fast tracked through ultrasounds, CT Scans and referred to a gyn-oncologist. The CT scan results showed that I had a mass (actually two) parked out in my lower abdomen. They were not able to locate my ovaries in either the ultrasounds or CT Scans. During my initial consultation with my gyn-oncologist, I was informed that it was very likely that I had ovarian cancer. I was terrified. 

On March 17th, 2015 I checked in to a hospital for the surgical removal of the masses. My gyn-onc had informed me that if the masses were benign, then the surgery should only take about 2 hours. If they were cancerous, then it would probably take much longer. My husband parked out in the waiting room and watched the clock tick by. As the the 2 hour mark extended into 6 hours, he tried to prepare himself for the worst. 

Turns out, I had ovarian cancer. Two tumor removals (one the size of a grapefruit and the other the size of a volleyball- yes you read that correctly), a de-bulking and a full hysterectomy and oophorectomy later, I found out that I somehow skirted the odds and my cancer was staged at Stage 1c3.

I am *incredibly* fortunate. After a very long and very rough 2015, I am alive today and able to warn you about the signs and symptoms of ovarian cancer, and what to do if you suspect you or a woman you love might have it. 

First, here are some numbers:

• Ovarian Cancer is the 5th leading cause of cancer related deaths in women ages 35-74.One in 75 women will develop ovarian cancer in her lifetime.
• hen a woman is diagnosed and treated in the earlier stages (Stages 1 and 2), the 5 year survival rate is over 90%
• When caught in later stages (stage 3 and 4), the survival rate drops to a dismal 28%.
• Due to the very non-specific symptoms of ovarian cancer, and lack of early detection tests, only about 15-20% of cases of ovarian cancer are found in early stages.

Now, for the signs and symptoms:

• Abdominal or lower back pain or discomfort
• Consistent bloat
• Upset stomach or heartburn
• Frequent and or/urgent need to pee
• Trouble eating or feeling full quickly
• Constipation
• Menstrual changes
• Pain during sex
• Weight loss

If you or any woman you love is experiencing these symptoms for more than 2 weeks, please encourage them to get to a doctor ASAP.  Make sure you are HEARD by your doctors. *YOU ARE YOUR BEST MEDICAL ADVOCATE*. If you have had breast cancer, or have a family history of breast cancer or colon cancer, you are at a higher risk for developing ovarian cancer. Women with the BRCA genetic mutation have up to a 70% chance of developing ovarian cancer. 

If you suspect that you have ovarian cancer, or if it runs in your family,  your doctor can perform a blood test called the CA-125. The CA-125 is a simple blood test that measures the cancer antigen protein in your blood and is used to monitor early signs of ovarian cancer. The CA-125 is not an absolute test, but can help to support doctor's suspicions. If you are suspected to have ovarian cancer, make sure to consult with a gyn-oncologist, as they are the best prepared to monitor and know the specifics of what to look for during surgery.

Please take note, spread the awareness and share the symptoms. It could literally save a woman’s life. There are no early detection tests, and many doctors have been known to misdiagnose ovarian cancer as IBS, chronic fatigue or Epstein Barr virus. ***THE PAP WILL NOT DETECT OVARIAN CANCER***

If you have any questions, leave them in the comments below and I’ll try my best to answer them!

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This was the survivor story speech Aniela gave in honor of her mother for the Gilda's Club of SoFL SNL Fundraiser. They raised the $20,000 goal in 20 minutes. 

Oil Pulling + Chemo = No Mouth Sores?

MOUTH SORES...they are like a portal to Chemo HELL. What if they could not only be treated but PREVENTED? Oil Pulling is the magical answer, plus its cheap and easy. 

My final chemo treatment was April 11, 2015, and this has been the one tip I share the most. Oil Pulling has made me one of those overly excited people pushing unsolicited holistic remedies onto unsuspecting cancer patients (I know...ugh), but this one actually works and made it possible for me to eat during chemo. Plus, it isn't connected to a mid-level marketing product.

Prior to chemo, I couldn't justify the hassle of oil pulling. My random attempts couldn't “proved” that it accomplished more than slowly whitening my teeth, but during chemo it became my secret weapon against dreaded mouth sores.

“Oil pulling is an ancient Ayurvedic technique that involves putting oil in your mouth for 20 minutes every day in order to draw out toxins from the body. ”

Sounds like a party, right? 

Christmas morning, 2014, my first mouth sore broke open one week after my first chemo treatment--what a gift! My internet chemo-comrades informed me that I could get my doctor to prescribe “Magic Mouthwash”, but they warned that it tasted like crap and and would make my mouth numb. Out of simple laziness to avoid another trip to the pharmacy, I decided to try oil pulling again. By the next day my mouth was HEALED.

From that moment on, every morning, the first thing I would do--after peeing, of course-- was put a spoonful of coconut oil in mouth. A year later, I am still doing it. With four months of intense chemo, the first mouth sore was my ONLY mouth sore. Oil pulling also saved me THOUSANDS of dollars in dental work after chemo. Something no one mentions during treatment is that all of those sores wreak havoc on your mouth, causing damage that could result in gum disease, cavities, and tooth loss. I only needed two preventative fillings. Thank you, Oil Pulling!

what I use:

• 1 teaspoon Organic Coconut Oil

• 3-4 drops Organic Clove Oil

• 3-4 drops Organic Peppermint Oil

• 1/2 cup warm salt water (for rinsing)

I prefer coconut oil but you can also use sesame or sunflower. Amazon sells “pure, unrefined, cold pressed, 100% organic extra virgin coconut oil” (with that many adjectives it must be good) in a 54oz jug for about $17.

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Dr. Mehta, my integrative medicine doctor at UM Sylvester Comprehensive Cancer Center, suggested I add several drops of clove oil to my oil pulling. Clove oil and coconut oil both have antiseptic properties and the clove oil has a huge list of added benefits. Now, I also add a few drops of organic peppermint oil to give me extra fresh breath. 

Why does oil pulling work? I came to find out it's not magic. Dr. Mehta explained that during chemo the cells are exploding and leaving their toxic waste floating in your body. By drinking water you flush the water soluble parts out but the fat soluble bits are stuck. By oil pulling, you give a place for those fat soluble toxins to go and then you spit them out. Abracadabra, the magic of our bodies. 

First thing in the morning, before drinking water or brushing your teeth, put a teaspoon of coconut oil with a few drops of clove and peppermint oil in your mouth and gently swish for 20 minutes. If you are finding that your mouth is cramping or you are gagging, start with less oil and less time. Then do your morning ritual; use the bathroom, make the bed, shower, feed the cats, meditate, etc. 20 minutes is the optimum time to get the full benefits. It's long enough to break through the mucus membrane and short enough so the toxins don't seep back in. Spit the oil into the TRASH (you don’t want to clog your drains). Then rinse with salt water as an added antiseptic while in chemo. DONE. 

As an added bonus, you will have a bright white smile to go with your shiny bald head. 

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Aniela and her husband, Jordan, at an event during her chemo.

What It Will NOT Do:

• CURE cancer (Go to the doctor)
• Heal pre-existing cavities and decay
• Magically make all of your problems go away (Cancer Sucks)

Benefits I felt:

• Whitens Teeth
• Freshens Breath
• Reduces Stiff Joints
• Reduces Sinus Problems
• Clears Skin
• Detoxifies the Body
• Increase Energy Level
• Prevents Mouth Sores before they start

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Game of Oil Pulling

By the end of Chemo, it was an all out battle between oil pulling and the chemo drugs. My mouth felt fuzzy, food tasted funny, and I could feel that the mouth sores were clawing to come out. Chemo compounds and oil pulling can only do so much, but if you are diligent with oil pulling you can hold them back as long as possible. 

Love,

Did you try oil pulling during your chemo? what was your experience?

Comment below.

This is something that worked for me, but please talk to your doctor. Also, check to see if your cancer facility has an integrative medicine doctor. They are a wonderful resource for adding holistic medicines to your standard medicine. *DO NOT discontinue your actual medicine because of what you read here.  

10 Reasons To Go Barber Shopping Post-Chemo

10 Reasons to Go Barber Shopping Post Chemo 

There are a ton of great blogs about how to help your hair grow back after chemo. Instead, I am going to talk about cutting it. I know…you want it to grow back as FAST as possible, why would you CUT it? 

My first haircut was two months post chemo. I barely had any hair at all, but the hair I did have made it look like I just finished chemo…which I did. The baby bunny fur that was growing out of my head gave away my medical history to everyone that laid eyes on me and all I could see was their Pity. 

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First haircut. Two months post-chemo. Fade with a spiral part razor cut in. 

My spirit couldn’t sit through the months of awkward Mullet, Chemo Fro—I had already been through enough. 

In the midst of this emotional personal battle over what to do about my hair, Ruby Rose became popular. In case you don’t know who she is, she is the gender-fluid woman on “Orange is the New Black” who single-handedly made every straight woman question their sexuality. Seeing her hair inspired me to take back control over my own. 

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Ruby Rose

The Barber SHOP.

A place very few women venture became my hair sanctuary. I went from looking sickly to SICK in 20 minutes and for $20, and it was the first time I felt sexy since my cancer experience started.

Why you should go to a barber:

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Second hair cut. Three months post-chemo and eight months post-mastectomy. Fade with Hard Part razor cut in.

1. Cheaper- $20 vs. $50 at a salon
2. Faster- 20 minutes Start to Finish
3. Experience- They KNOW how to cut short hair. 
4. No more Mullet Chemo Fro.
5. You will feel like a Badass (and look like one too).

Barber Shop Tips:

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Men's hairstyle inspiration.

1. Yelp Barber Shops to find one you like (look at reviews and photos).
2. Younger Barber’s know how to cut in the hip line work.
3. Pin Men’s Hairstyles you think are sexy (You will be attracted to yourself ;-).
4. Wash your hair before (they don’t wash it).
5. Ask them for styling advice.

Walt is my barber and we have been together from that first cut over a year ago. We met online…yelp to be exact, and he has been a huge part of my cancer recovery. He makes my short hair look like a CHOICE, not a side effect.

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7 months post chemo. Blow out with Hard Part razor cut in.

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One year post-chemo. Faded pixie cut. Chemo Curls on top.

Love,

P.S.-I hate to admit this, but there was a part of me that misses my bald chemo head—mainly the perks. I got out of a speeding ticket with a state trooper, people brought me food, and I could watch hours of Netflix with no judgement; but all good things must come to and end and I love finding the new me.

How long did you wait for your first post-chemo haircut? Comment below.

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The Suffering Olympics

   No one wins the gold in the Suffering Olympics.
 

The Suffering Olympics

This is a term that Brandeis University Holocaust Professor Antony Polonsky coined, and that I often use when I encounter folks who try to quantify, or "one up", other people's pain and suffering with their own.

The Suffering Olympics are, in a nutshell, the pride and ego hunger games. No one gets to be the next Michael Phelps, Usain Bolt or Simone Biles in the Suffering Olympics. No one ever "wins" the game- in reality, everyone involved loses. The Suffering Olympics rob us of our voice, divides instead of unites us, and encourages apathy over empathy. They are the result of Pride, Stubbornness, and Entitlement getting together to have a pissing contest.

Don't compete with each other like these two did.

The torch to the Suffering Olympics is lit as soon as one person starts comparing and contrasting their personal pain and suffering to another person's experience of pain and suffering. Conversely, the Suffering Olympics are played when someone hides their own pain because they feel that it doesn't "measure up" to another person's -as if their own voice isn't valid compared to someone else's.

As a Cancer Grad, I often have to keep myself aware to not unwillingly diminish someone else's pain, due to any perceptions that their issues aren't or weren't as difficult as mine. Sometimes that perception stems from me, especially on the occasions when I start to fall, unchecked, into cancer self-pity.  Other times that perception stems from other people.

For example, my husband suffers from debilitating back pain -piriformis syndrome- which tends to flare up once or twice a year if he isn't diligent about stretching and maintaining his core strength. It not only causes him severe physical pain, but mental and emotional stress as well. The pain limits him in a myriad of ways- when a flare-up occurs, he gets depressed & irritable. He feels vulnerable and disappointed with his body.

When he suffers during a flare up, I sometimes catch myself thinking, "You don't understand pain the way *I* do"  - which isn't fair of me. The reality is, he doesn't need to be diagnosed with cancer in order for me to be sympathetic to his pain and frustration. When I recognize that I'm participating in the Suffering Olympics,  I try to tap into my empathetic side- I'm very familiar with frustration and vulnerability, the sadness and pain we feel when our bodies fail us, even if it's for just a moment. I try to be vigilant in reminding myself that it doesn't matter if someone is drowning in 5 feet or 50 feet of water- the point is that they are DROWNING.

The Suffering Olympics also play out when we hide our pain because we don't think it's worthy of being validated. In an effort to "know your audience", sometimes we don't want to sound like whiners about struggles that seem trite in comparison to someone else's. While I probably wouldn't complain about a stubbed toe to an amputee, sharing and relating our trauma and our triumphs can connect us if we stop to really listen to one another.  I once had a friend and fellow cancer grad confess to me that she felt like she had "failed at cancer" simply because she never had to go through chemo. She said this to me as if there were a suffering richter scale, and her pain measured at a paltry 1.2 compared to my 7.  This comparison, of course, is ridiculous. Pain is pain. It hurts. Other people's struggles deserve to be honored as much as mine do. 

We all win when we listen to one another.

I really don't like how it feels to witness suffering in any form. I try to use the knowledge and experience that I gained from my cancer diagnosis as a means to become a better listener. Being diagnosed with cancer is terrible- but I'm trying to use it as a catalyst to listen and empathize better. We hear with our ears but listen with our hearts. I'm going to keep aiming to listen to other people from my heart.

Have you ever been dragged into the Suffering Olympics? Has cancer made you into a better listener or more empathetic? How do you validate other people's pain? Comment below.

Survive vs. Graduate

Warrior. Fighter. Hero. Courage. Survivor.

These are just a few terms that may be familiar if you've ever been diagnosed with cancer. These are all wonderful words, and are usually used by people who want to support you through an incredibly difficult time in your life-  people who want to honor your struggle.

I still vividly remember the first time someone referred to me as a cancer "survivor." It gave me pause- I had a visceral reaction, where I had to stop myself from revealing my cringing face. The term fell flat for me. At that moment, I wasn't sure why. 

Surely, there is some truth in the term "cancer survivor"- most of us who have come through a diagnosis are keenly aware of our avoidance of death and the incredibly challenging circumstances towards becoming healthier. I understand why so many use the moniker with pride. If the name "survivor" is one that makes you feel proud and empowered, by all means-kudos to you, keep rockin' that term.

As I reflected on my reaction to the term, I was able to determine why "survivor" didn't resonate with me. Within the world of cancer, so much of the rhetoric surrounding the disease is couched in war and battle terminology. "Fight like a girl", "Cancer Warrior", "Kick cancer's ass" "Wage a war on cancer" are some popular examples. For those people who have passed on from the disease, we often read they have "lost their battle", or "lost their fight" with cancer. Is this supposed to mean they didn't "fight" hard enough? Does that truly honor their lives and their struggle?

Sure, some of us survive cancer, but I'm striving for more than survival. I'm striving to live out loud, to create, to learn more, love more, grow more, explore more, and share more during my time on earth, until I pass on and end up "studying abroad".

I never looked at my own cancer diagnosis through the war lens. I viewed it as some cells that went haywire in my lower abdomen (GO HOME, DNA. YOU'RE DRUNK.) - that my body needed a lot of help healing through surgery and chemo and teams of doctors and nurses and a comprehensive plan to get it back on track to healing itself. It was incredibly hard, but I learned much more about cancer and my body, about empathy and sympathy, about physical, mental and emotional strength, about love and support, about grief and pain, as well as joy and healing. I didn't just survive cancer. I got schooled by cancer, and then I graduated from it.

I love the power of words. I love trying to find the most appropriate, descriptive words to communicate emotions and experiences. So when Aniela and I asked each other the question, "What's an empowering term to call someone who has lived through a cancer diagnosis?" we thought long and hard about our choice of words. 

Cancer Grad.

We hope that if you are getting schooled by cancer, that you graduate from it with honors.