Here’s to remaining forever “entirely unremarkable”

It turns out that being described by your oncologist as “entirely unremarkable” is a good thing.

To be fair, the oncologist didn’t use the term to describe me personally. She used it in the context of the physical examination she did of me one day last month, at the appointment I had with her just before I had my latest round of zoledronic acid. That’s the bone-toughening drug I get a dose of every six months to counteract the bone-weakening effects of letrozole, the hormone therapy drug I take daily to lower the amount of oestrogen in my body and so reduce the chance of my breast cancer coming back.

The oncologist had a feel in various places for lumps or swellings or anything else that might have given cause for concern. Later, in her report to the consultant breast surgeon, she described the examination as “entirely unremarkable” in that there were “no signs of recurrent disease”. Of course, an absence of lumps is only that. All it means is there’s no palpable sign of trouble at this time. There could be lots of other stuff going on that we’re just not aware of (How would you know it’d come back?). But it’s something, and on that front I’ll take whatever reassurance I can get.

As well as having bone-strengthening properties, zoledronic acid has been shown to reduce breast cancer recurrence in post-menopausal women such as myself. It’s given via intravenous infusion (that’s a drip to you and me) over a period of 15 minutes; you’re in and out of the chemo unit in no time but it felt really strange to be back there after six months away.

My next round of the drug is due in March next year. Here’s hoping I’m still entirely unremarkable then and indeed that I stay that way for evermore.

 

Recurrence 3: Keeping my side of a really hard bargain

After you’ve had treatment for breast cancer, you’re told to do certain things to reduce the risk of it coming back. Don’t smoke, cut down on your alcohol consumption or stop drinking altogether, eat healthily, keep to a healthy weight, exercise and keep fit and, for many of us, keep taking the daily anti-oestrogen therapy (One down, just 3,652 to go).

This is all good advice. Really it’s no different from what we’re meant to do anyway (apart, of course, from the hormone therapy). I do have a problem with it, though. It risks making women feel guilty if they don’t manage to follow it – regardless of whether their cancer comes back or not.

I’ll do my best to keep my side of this hard bargain. No matter how well I manage, though, there’s no guarantee I’ll stay “cancer-free” (Recurrence 1 & Recurrence 2). As with getting breast cancer in the first place (How did I “get” breast cancer?), there are factors – some undoubtedly we’re not yet even aware of – over which we have little or no control.

So what am I doing to reduce my risk of recurrence? I don’t smoke, so that wasn’t a problem. I’ve always been active and done loads of sport but I’ve now started running regularly – not far, but at least I’m doing it. Also, I make a point of cycling to places where before I might have driven. So I’m probably fitter than I was before  I was diagnosed last July. I’ve also shed a good few kilos. I’ve gone from being a regular to an occasional drinker of alcohol… although I did make an exception for the few days I’ve just spent in Madrid (If planning a holiday is a clear sign of recovery…)! Finally, while I reckon I ate pretty healthily before, I have changed my diet quite substantially. I eat far less, for a start. I can’t bring myself to become a vegetarian but I have cut down on red meat and I’ve almost completely cut out processed meats – I very rarely now have things like bacon or chorizo, both of which I adore. I didn’t eat a lot of what I would term “rubbish” before, but I’ve cut out almost completely things like crisps and biscuits. We were on the coast in Norfolk for a few days over the Easter break and I didn’t even have an ice cream. Yes, I agree, where’s the fun in that?

I know these changes are all positive, but to be honest I’d feel better about them if they’d been driven by a genuine desire for change rather than by fear of recurrence.

A while back, I went to two pubs in one day – not my usual practice, I assure you. In one I had a coffee and in the other I had lime and soda. That would have been unthinkable before breast cancer. I’m sure it’ll wear off but I’m still at the stage where I have to force myself not to be paranoid or judgmental about the drinking and eating habits of friends, family members and even random members of the public. I look at folk knocking it back in the pub or tucking into some really unhealthy food and think “I know where you’re heading”. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up healthier and fitter than ever before but I’ll be bloody miserable and a real party pooper!