a cough + chest pain: it’s probably cancer

I’m sure that most people, when they develop a lingering cough or pull a muscle in the chest region, do not automatically make this assumption. And truthfully, I don’t IMMEDIATELY jump to that conclusion.

Okay, that’s a lie. Yes I do. But I’m far enough out now that I can – most of the time – think logically about the situation at hand and properly attribute my aches and pains to the actions of the previous days, and appreciate the entirely different lifestyle I’m living than I was when I was diagnosed. (And the fact that, in all honestly, this new lifestyle has probably significantly lowered my risk of relapsing and/or developing a secondary cancer. I can’t prove that but it makes sense that living a healthy, active life would lend itself to lowering one’s risk.)

Still – the fact remains: the only “symptoms” I had of the tumour that started just below my collar bone was what felt like a pulled muscle in my chest. I wasn’t near as physically active as I am now, so looking back, the likelihood of actually pulling that big of a muscle is pretty low. When I was in the gym (not consistently at all) I was mostly doing isolation type exercises, and I sure wasn’t targeting my chest muscles. But at 24 – the age I was when I started experiencing symptoms – you certainly don’t think “I probably have cancer”. You assume you pulled a muscle and go on with your day.

Toward the end of November/beginning of December (shortly before/just after diagnosis) I developed a cough. This was in all likelihood due to the tumour squishing my lung – it was sitting right on top of it. I’m actually surprised I didn’t start coughing a lot earlier. I kept coughing right up until my second chemo, when the tumour had shrunk enough to not put pressure on my lungs anymore. But again – in spite of the fact that I had (or soon would be) been diagnosed, I assumed I had a cough because it was the dead of winter in Saskatchewan. I never dreamt it was tied to my cancer, and I only realized it was when the timing of it finally fucking off aligned with the results of tumour blasting chemo.

So forgive me if I’m a little wary, now – because the last time I assumed it was a pulled muscle/regular old cough, it turned out to be anything but. Maybe if I’d taken action on the “pulled muscle” sooner I could’ve caught my cancer at Stage I. That likely wouldn’t have changed my treatment course much, but I might’ve gotten away with no radiation (and thus the worry of later developing lung or breast cancer).

just had a scan that came back clear. I tell myself this to calm my thoughts, which mostly get the best of me at night when I can’t sleep. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t have a notation on my calendar that says ‘chest pain?’ one week from when the symptoms originally popped up. I have a deal with myself – if symptoms persist for longer than a week, I’ll get checked out.

I know it’s nothing, but would appreciate any good vibes you can spare that when the one week mark shows up (on Friday) I’ll realize that the pain has disappeared and I won’t have to go through the shit show that is trying to get in for a scan mere months after I just had one. (We do have free healthcare in this great country, but doctors aren’t really fans of giving scans just because patients say, ‘pretty please with a cherry on top.’ ;))

This is life after cancer – no matter how far out you are, things are never ‘normal’ again. I will always be holding one hand out, waiting for Dr. Hodge to pick up and spin me back into the waltz I never wanted.

post chemo paranoia

Things they don’t tell you about being done chemo: you will immediately become even more paranoid about every little ache and pain.

A few nights ago, I had a pain in my chest. It felt like I’d swallowed something sharp and it had gotten stuck chest-level. It wasn’t a constant pain, just like it kept shifting and poking me. Except I hadn’t eaten anything sharp. Pretty sure I ate an orange or something. Like an orange can poke you, right?

And my chest is where my cancer started. It’s the home of my original tumours. (I feel like there’s a cheesy eventplex name in there: chest wall, home of the OG tumours.) So my thought process, every time the pain stabbed, was something like this: “I have to go get more chemo. It didn’t work. The tumours are still growing. They’re so big now they’re causing me discomfort.” (Which never happened before, for the record. I actually had little to no idea that there were tumours there until I developed a cough in early December.)

Additionally, I’ve been coughing for over a week now. I know it’s just a cold because it’s been accompanied by the typical runny nose, and I can feel mucus (gross I know) moving whenever I get a good hack in. I can’t shake it, but I feel like that’s probably because my immune system is still shit. But again, sometimes my paranoia will override my logic and I’ll start thinking how the chemo didn’t work at all.

And sometimes I get a sharp pain in my neck region, right about where my secondary tumours were. This has been happening the whole time. It’s not even common enough for me to think about when it’s not happening, but when it does, I guess you can guess where my thought process goes.

I know that my fears of the chemo not working aren’t true, because I had a CT mid-March and it showed “significant shrinkage.” Obviously the chemo worked. There’s no way it would’ve started working and then all of a sudden just stopped and the tumours grew back. Right? That’s crazy talk.

But going for treatment kept my paranoia at bay. When I was getting drugs pumped into me every two weeks, I was able to shove my fears down with the knowledge that there would be more chemo to kill whatever it was that was causing me pain. Now that I’m done (and I haven’t even went two weeks since my last treatment yet!) I feel like I have nothing to combat my fears with. Except logic. And apparently it fails me when I’m in any sort of pain.

There is bright news, though. Two days ago, I woke up at regular person time (8 a.m. or so), stayed up til normal person time (11 p.m. or so) and didn’t take a nap! I mean, by yesterday I apparently ran out of all that energy because I fell asleep on the couch watching TV at 9 p.m., but the point is — it was the first day in forever that I hadn’t needed a nap. Small victories! I’ve started doing a little freelance print work – just a few stories a week, but it’s better than nothing. I’ve went for a few (short) runs with my dog. I’m trying to get my life back to normal.

There’s changes, of course. My life will never be the “same” as it was before cancer. I think it will end up being better, because I think I’m a much nicer, more patient, more generous person now. So, in spite of all my post-chemo paranoia, it’s not all bad. I just can’t wait to lose this chemo belly 😉

My PET scan is scheduled for May 25, with my follow up with my oncologist June 3rd. So in less than a month, I’ll know if my paranoia is just that.