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Piecing together survivorship
Frustration … that’s what the last few weeks have felt like. On the one hand, my last thyroid biopsy came back benign, … breathe. My March CT scan was clear, … breathe. My genetics testing is in process and likely to confirm I have the PTEN mutation, one more piece of the puzzle falling into
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Genetics … the missing puzzle piece?
It turns out that even a routine referral to your periodontist can loop back to your cancer journey. Who knew? The interesting thing is that it may connect some dots. I have a ‘cobblestone’ pattern on my gums—tiny little clusters of bumps I’ve had forever—that my new dentist thought were worth evaluating ‘just to make
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On anniversaries, monitoring, and more waiting …
I’m discovering that anniversaries bring up interesting emotions. I expected to be writing just about my 5k race for this post, but didn’t realize just how many feels it would create, falling as it did almost exactly a year after starting chemotherapy. And because I’ve been busy, since race day I also had my six month monitoring appointment for my thyroid nodules, with mixed results.
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2024 Wrapped
January is a time of reflection, and I’m no different in looking back at the year that was. It is common while you go through cancer treatment to feel like ‘it’s all a blur,’ so I’m glad my notekeeping habits let me review what happened.
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It’s been a year: Contemplating survivorship
It’s been four weeks since I wrapped my EBRT sessions — and my flu and Covid vaccine boosters were two Fridays ago. The flu shot was the thing that made me pause—because I’m longer on active treatment. Yesterday, I saw my radiation oncologist for my first follow-up visit and I won’t see them again for six months. A whole new chapter is beginning—survivorship.
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Week 2: Radiotherapy and running
I don’t know why I’ve always been more anxious about radiotherapy than chemotherapy. Maybe it’s my embedded perceptions of radiation and the damage it can do. Like anything else, once you experience the process, it becomes less intimidating. Two weeks and 8 treatments in, I’ve gotten comfortable and developed a cadence with my Toronto Waterfront Marathon virtual race.
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New running goals and the end of life without eyebrows
Today is the Montréal Marathon and the weather gods have smiled on the crowd. 13C and sunny are lovely racing conditions, and I hope everyone toeing the line has a great race. Surprisingly, I don’t feel bad about shifting my plans and still being in my pyjamas as I write this. A leisurely Sunday morning with coffee is just fine.
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More scans, and getting on with it.
This post has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. There’s been a lot going on, but not much of it has been running. There has been movement, and I’m on the upswing in terms of energy and endurance. I’m currently ‘on hiatus’ between chemo — my last infusion was on 13 August — and the beginning of radiotherapy, which should start in late September. Still, a treatment hiatus doesn’t mean I’m immune from appointments and scans.
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Learning to appreciate the grind
Similar to any good training plan, my chemo treatment plan has weeks that offload the strain on my body, intended to allow for healing and recovery, and to minimize the cumulative toxic effects of the drug regimen. Mostly that has been working well for me. Still, just like when you are two thirds through a build, where I find myself now is understanding the remaining weeks of treatment will be a grind. We all go through it.
Welcome
I’m a 60+ masters runner documenting my journey with endometrial cancer and now Cowden Syndrome.
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Latest posts
- Piecing together survivorship
- Genetics … the missing puzzle piece?
- On anniversaries, monitoring, and more waiting …
- Fuel, food, and survivorship
- 2024 Wrapped
Running from hysteria 