Intimacy After Breast Cancer

I just spent the entire day at a Breast Cancer Issues Conference in Portland Oregon and one of the three sessions I attended addressed the topic of Intimacy After Breast Cancer.

When I arrived at the Conference I considered substituting that session for Long-Term Side Effects of Chemotherapy and Radiation because I thought the one on Intimacy wasn’t applicable since 1) I currently don’t have a partner and 2) I really don’t care if I have sex.

But I attended anyway and I’m glad that I did. Dana Rowett, speaker, and co-author of the book, Intimacy After Cancer: A Woman's Guide was both informative and humorous.

Ms. Rowett talked mostly about how to communicate with your partner before you have sex, which positions are best, and how to increase your libido and your energy so that you’ll enjoy sex more.

She also stressed the importance of “using it or losing it.” We all know that sex keeps us young. Besides being fun and great exercise, it gets the hormones flowing, which is good for our skin, hair and muscle tone. And it prevents vaginal atrophy (yikes). For those of us who have had chemotherapy (me), or radiation to the cervix or vagina (not me), Ms. Rowett suggested using vaginal dilators if our vaginas have decreased in diameter. I know what the men are thinking right about now, “Hey, but wait a minute…”

The truth is that sex after breast cancer treatment can be very painful (hopefully I’ll get a chance to find out) because the vaginal tissue is thinner and can easily tear if not properly lubed, and the vagina might be too small to accommodate anything larger than a piece of cooked spaghetti. Darn! I just gave away all of my pasta last week when I started my low-fat diet. Anyway, Ms. Rowett said that the dilators help prepare you for sex, should the desire ever return. Well, I certainly wanted to be ready, just in case.

With a big smile on my face, I walked out of the room at the end of the session waving my free samples of Astroglide and Replens-- ready to take on the world (well, maybe not the whole world).

During the break, my first stop in the breast cancer exhibit hall was the sex toy booth, followed by the fly-fishing booth. The toy rep showed me the dilator kit, which cost $99.00 and included 6 different sizes in six different colors. I told her that I wasn’t really interested in the extra-mini-size or the elephant-size— that one in a medium size would probably be fine. Then I asked her how I would know if my vagina had decreased in size since I hadn’t had sex in a while and didn’t have any prospects to test drive it. She said, “Let me show you my Intimate Collection Party Catalog.” After not too much thought, I decided to throw my fate to the wind—to leave it once again to chance. I will just wait until the right person comes along and see what happens.

I left the booth empty-handed, but not entirely disappointed.

I ended up registering for a fly-fishing trip to Central Oregon. It’s been almost 13 years since I’ve used my fly rod and gear. Hopefully, my Neoprene waders and felt-bottom boots haven’t split or dried out from lack of use.

Don't tell you date you had breast cancer (until you're ready)

Chemotherapy not only does a number on your body, it also jumbles your perception of the world around you. As you start to assess the cumulative side-effects of the chemo drugs and the radiation therapy, trust becomes a significant factor.

While I was healing from breast cancer treatment at a friend’s house in Palm Desert California I hooked up with a former classmate of mine. I didn’t really know him in high school because he was a year ahead of me and we hung out in different circles. He found me through classmates.com a couple of years ago and since then we’ve kept in touch via email every few months or so.

When we found that we shared a love for travel we thought it might be fun to meet up on one of our trips, should we happen to be in the same country at the same time. Since it looked like that was never going to happen, he asked me to call him if and when I decided to visit San Diego.

I called him a month after I arrived in Palm Desert and we made plans to meet at a wonderful French restaurant in Indian Wells that a friend of his suggested. I was a little nervous because it would be our first meeting and he didn’t (and doesn’t) know what I had been going through the past year. Luckily he emailed a current photo of himself because I certainly wouldn’t have recognized him from his yearbook photo. Yes, I sent him a current photo of me too.

Well, we hit it off and ended up closing down the restaurant after a wonderful meal and two hours of nonstop talking (actually he did most of the talking). I didn’t want to tell him that I pretty much stopped drinking alcohol when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, so we shared a bottle of wine with dinner and sipped cognac with dessert.

For the next four months, he continued to make the 2 ½ hour drive from San Diego to see me every two-three weeks or so. He usually stayed for 3-5 days at a nearby hotel. We had a great time sight-seeing, watching the latest independent films at the Palm d-Ore and catching up with our lives.

The most difficult thing for me during that time was dealing with my wig in the scorching desert summer heat. About the only time I wore the wig was when he visited. The rest of the time I wore my new short artsy Palm Desert hairstyle that blended in with all of the other desert boomers.

One 115-degree August Saturday we walked through the Living Desert Zoo & Gardens and I thought I was going to pass out from heat exhaustion. My wig was uncomfortably hot and my new fashionable straw hat didn’t help much. Sweat was dripping down my forehead and running down the back of my neck, but I wasn’t about to take the wig off--- not yet. It got to be a game of sorts--- to see how long I could continue the charade before he figured it out.

Another time he asked me to join him for a swim in his hotel pool, but I told him that I couldn’t get my head wet because I had suffered a painful earache a couple of days before (true). To escape the unbearable heat I did a lot of sitting and standing in the shallow end and dog-paddled across the deep end. Luckily, my wig stayed completely dry.

We hiked along the trails at the top of the Palm Springs tram, walked around the rock formations in Joshua Tree National Park, meandered through a botanical garden and browsed through the quaint shops in Idyllwild.

Even though we spent several days and evenings together I always managed to avoid telling him that I was healing from breast cancer and that the hair that he thought was so beautiful was not growing out of my head.


Toward the end of my stay I almost confided in him because it was getting harder to wear the wig without constantly tucking in little stray hairs that kept creeping out and I was beginning to feel a little dishonest. I was also terrified that he might want to run his fingers through my hair or brush my bangs away from my face, so I kept my icy distance.


I remembered the advice a cancer survivor gave me. “You don’t have to tell the world, your date or anyone for that matter, that you have had breast cancer. It’s nobody’s business. When the time is right you’ll know it.”

Maybe it’s because I don’t trust him enough to keep it to himself. He does like to talk so there’s a good chance my secret might accidentally slip out to other former classmates. Or maybe I’m afraid of rejection—that he wouldn’t want to hang around me so much if he knew I was damaged—that a little piece of what makes me a woman is missing and that the brunette with the long straight bob that he was enamored with actually has extremely short (1/2") wavy hair—that the times he thought I was being indifferent or melancholy were neither—that I was just tired and still feeling the effects of the chemo and radiation.

I decided when we first met that I would tell him about the breast cancer, should our relationship progress to the point that we became more than friends. In the meantime, I’m making sure that it doesn’t. So far he seems satisfied with the status-quo. Perhaps there is something he’s not telling me.

What would you do?

Chemotherapy and Nutrition

During the first two months of chemotherapy (the AC portion of the 4-month ACT regimen) it was difficult to get the nutrition I needed because I was constantly nauseated. The anti-nausea medication Kaiser Oncology pharmacy gave me helped to curb the queasiness, but my appetite was still suppressed from the chemo cocktails. The only foods I wanted to eat during that time were bread & butter pickles and mashed potatoes. I even CRAVED bread & butter pickles and managed to consume two giant jars in just two months. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night hungry for bread & butter pickles and couldn’t get back to sleep until I made a trip to the refrigerator. What’s interesting is that I didn’t crave them before chemotherapy, or after.

I lost 10 pounds those first two months, but gained it all back, plus a few during the T (Taxol) part of the regimen. I was so happy to regain my appetite that I ate everything in sight.

After the chemotherapy and the radiation treatments ended, my eating habits were not as good as they should have been. Even though I generally follow a healthy diet, I found it hard to eat as many fruits and vegetables as is recommended to prevent a recurrence of breast cancer. The solution? A Vitamix Blender. It has a very powerful motor that won’t bog down and can liquefy fruits and vegetables in just seconds. I found it much easier to drink my fruits and vegetables all at once rather than eating them throughout the day. However, I still use a smaller blender for making an occasional smoothie.

The Vitamix blender was first introduced to me by a doctor who is also a cancer survivor. He said that he didn’t have time to nibble on vegetables all day, so he bought the blender and now can conveniently drink all of the vegetables he needs for the day in one or two glasses of juice.

I bought my blender at Costco after watching a Vitamix rep demonstrate all of the cool things it could do. The price was much lower than what I found on the Internet, however, I later learned that Amazon.com has the lowest prices for the Vitamix blender Vitamix 5200 Series Blender, Black and other items as well. I thought that Amazon.com only sold books and DVDs, which is why I didn’t check their prices earlier.

If your mouth is sore from chemotherapy and you have difficulty swallowing food, you might find it easier to drink your nutrients during your treatment regimen. Any blender or juicer would probably be fine. I happen to own a small blender, a juice extractor, and a juicer, although I prefer the Vitamix blender because the motor is very powerful and it’s easy to clean. Plus, the Vitamix container holds a lot of fruits and vegetables, so I can make up a large batch of juice at one time.

Is it a chemotherapy-induced heart attack or just gas?

Halfway into my chemotherapy treatments I had a real scare. My granddaughters, Opal and Violet, were visiting as they usually do on Friday nights. We had just finished eating dinner and were getting ready to watch a movie on TV when all of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in the center of my chest. It went away after a few seconds, but came back whenever I bent over.

I called the Kaiser Oncology department and the after-hours nurse told me to hang up and call 911 immediately. When the operator answered she told me to stay on the phone until help arrived and to have my granddaughters turn the lights on and off rapidly and continuously so that the paramedics could find my apartment without delay.

I could see that Opal and Violet were frightened. I told them what was happening and not to worry—that it was probably nothing, but the doctor just wanted to make sure.

Within minutes 6 handsome men in uniform were in my living room taking vitals, administering oxygen, and hooking me up to an IV. The paramedics said that my granddaughters could not ride in the ambulance with me, so I called my friend, Seamus, to come over and watch the girls. One of the firemen offered to stay with the girls until Seamus arrived (talk about great service).

It was a busy night at the hospitals. Kaiser and St. Vincent’s hospitals were both full and so I was diverted to a hospital in nearby Tualatin.

The tests turned out fine and it wasn't a heart attack, but gas, most likely caused from the mocha chocolate freeze I drank earlier in the day. I’m not used to drinking caffeinated drinks, so I may have had a strong reaction to it. The attending ER nurse told me that the hospital he worked at previously gave their cardiac ER patients anti-acid tablets upon admission to rule out the possibility of gas before they started any extensive cardio testing. He said that the symptoms can be the same.

When I returned home my son and granddaughters were very happy to see me and started laughing when I told them my chest pains turned out to be just gas.

Tragic or near-tragic events can be the fodder for a creative mind. Opal wrote the following poem about her experience that night:

Grandma Scare

The sky turns black
I turned on the TV looking for a movie and find it!
Garfield 2 and the Tail of Two KittiesThe movie started
20 min. and grandma calls 9-1-1 why
I turned around
My heart starts to pound
I see her aching
I flickered the lights
My sister helping

The ambulance came
They did tests
My sister and I are shaking in fear
Then her friend came to watch us
While my grandma goes to the hospital
I watched the rest of the movie in fear
When she came back
I was happy
And it was all from caffeine
My dad came and the day ended.

Opal Dillard, Grade 5

Opal’s poem was published in a book containing the poems of select young poets from elementary schools throughout the west.

That night was a scare for us all, but fortunately it had a happy ending. My tip to those of you who are experiencing any chest pains is to call 9-1-1 immediately, even if you think the pains are caused from gas. Every second counts if it turns out to be more than just gas. Heart attacks can be a side-effect of chemotherapy, so you should always be concerned if you experience any pains out of the ordinary.

If you have neuropathy from chemotherapy try Earth shoes

A possible side-effect of chemotherapy is peripheral neuropathy. One of the symptoms is numbness or tingling of the hands and/or feet, most commonly affecting the fingers and toes. The neuropathy may diminish or even disappear completely after several months, but for some it may last forever. Individuals at greatest risk of peripheral neuropathy are those who have preexisting peripheral neuropathy from diabetes, alcoholism, severe malnutrition or previous chemotherapy.

My symptoms included numbness and tingling in my big toes. It may seem slight, but the neuropathy prevented me from wearing closed-toed shoes. Any pressure on my toes caused from pushing my feet forward, sent me through the roof. I tried some athletic shoes in a size bigger than I normally wear, but even that didn’t help. I wasn’t able to wear the shoes without experiencing some discomfort.

Fortunately, I could wear open-toed shoes in Palm Desert where I would spend the next 5 months. I started out wearing sandals on my early morning walks, but really needed a shoe with more support.

It was during my first visit to Idyllwild that I discovered the Earth shoe. Remember the Earth shoe from the 1970’s? Well, it’s made a comeback and is now available in several different styles. One of the company’s marketing tactics is to display posters showing several well-known celebrities who wear Earth shoes. I guess the message is to make you feel “cool” when you wear them, instead of like a “hippy” or “earth muffin.” I imagine that with all of the baby boomers turning 60+ the Earth shoe will become more popular than ever.

The charming owner of the Idyllwild shoe shop was a very knowledgeable retired Podiatrist from England. When I watched how he treated his customers, I knew I had come to the right place. After he slipped the Earth Shoes onto my feet I didn’t want to take them off, they were so comfortable. With the negative heel technology, there was no pressure on my toes. My posture also improved because the shoes forced my body into proper alignment.

I ended up buying some open-toe sandals like Earth Origins Women's Sedona Brown Sophie 7 B(M) US and some comfortable walking shoes similar to Earth Shoes Rocket - Womens

and some closed-toe clog-like shoes Kalso Earth Shoe Women's Black Patent Solar 8 B(M) US for Oregon. Now I find it hard to wear any other type of shoe, even though my neuropathy has diminished.
                                    

My tip to others who suffer from peripheral neuropathy is to at least try Earth shoes. They take a little getting used to because the heel bed is lower than the toe bed, which forces you to stand more erect. Even if you don't have neuropathy, the Earth shoes can help prevent foot problems and are great for people who have to stand on their feet all day: nurses, doctors, teachers, waiters, chefs, etc.