Recently by Cancerwise Blogger

By Cristina Rodriguez

I'm a 30-year-old non-Hodgkin's lymphoma fighter. It's not all that I am, but it's all I'm focused on at the moment. The purpose of my blog, lymphomamaniac, is manifold.

I want to record this experience, not just for myself, but for anyone who can relate to or learn from my experience. I want to let people know that cancer can be funny and cancer is not politically correct. Why should I care about cancer's feelings? Cancer sucks and I'm going to kick its butt. 

"Intro to Stem Cell Transplant." That was the name of the class I took a couple of weeks ago at MD Anderson. This optional class made me think harder about it than anything since I started my battle against non-Hodgkin's lymphoma.

"Why them and not me?"
I know that sounds weird being that I'm going through a cancer battle, but let me explain.

This class was for stem cell transplant candidates and their caregivers to learn what to expect and how to prepare for the inescapable leave of absence from their homes. We got information on what a stem cell transplant is, the types of transplants, health risks and on and on.
 
I was alone in this class and that fact was not lost on me. It wasn't anybody's fault. My father was waiting in the lobby, since English is not his forte, and my husband was stuck working for the medical insurance I still so desperately need. 

Continue reading Transplant 101 .

By Justin Ozuna

Justin Ozuna lives in Dallas and was diagnosed with chronic myeloid leukemia in January 2006. He is a Texas State Representative and Dallas/Fort Worth facilitator for The National CML Society. His mission is to capture the ups and downs of a young adult living with cancer and to serve people through humor, encouragement, hope and adversity at his blog, theozunaverse.com.

I'm not much of a runner. My only experience running a timed event was during a junior high track meet. I ran the equivalent of one lap, or 400 meters. It didn't turn out so well. I was responsible for the last leg of a 1600 meter relay so by the time I was passed the baton, the competition was three-fourths of a lap ahead of me. I didn't have a chance.

Early in my fight with leukemia, I felt much the same way. I was 25 years old, struggling to get ahead. It felt like life was passing me by. I was anxious for the baton, for a chance to sprint, because catching up with the world around me was the only thing I knew to do. Everything else, I figured, would take care of itself.

When I was younger, it was extremely difficult to wrap my mind around the big picture. I grew up in an excessive culture defined by immediacy and indulgence, where patience is considered weakness and investments are often vilified. To rely on endurance to get me through the trials and tribulations of life was a tough lesson to learn.

Race with a purpose
Four years after my diagnosis, I moved to Dallas and discovered I was growing resistant to Gleevec, a first-line medication. I learned of a mutation called t315i, which would prevent any known FDA-approved medication from working. It was at that moment I started to see things differently. I realized the futility of my self-centered approach to life and reinvigorated my efforts to run the race against cancer with a purpose.

I stopped believing life was a sprint. A diagnosis of leukemia didn't necessarily mean I was going to live a shortened life, it simply meant I had to run smarter, more effectively, and with purpose. I knew as soon as I let go of that truth, I would lose. And so I pressed forward. I decided to do whatever I could to cross the finish line with determination.

Continue reading What cancer has taught me: life is a marathon.

By Val Marshall

Val Marshall's cancer journey began in May 2009, when her son Addison was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia. A visit to the family doctor for what they thought was a simple high school football injury turned out to be much more.

Inspired by her son's strength and hope, Val strives to be a voice that connects other parents on this journey. Her series shares insight into her life as a mom of a typical teenager who just happens to be fighting leukemia.

Addison Marshall crush cancer

It's a bitter sweet time as Addie will be graduating on May 26 and will begin his new chapter at Texas A&M in August. When you have faced the world of relapse, you tend to fear the end of treatment and the hospital family that has caught your fall for 1,095 days, but who's counting?

Jack and I were invited to an MD Anderson fundraiser in West Texas a couple weekends ago and we reflected on the support system we've received as parents these last three years.

Apparently, other families have felt this love as well. Polo on the Prairie is in its 26th year and has raised millions of dollars for cancer research because one family has modeled what MD Anderson teaches us with hope, science and the never-ending quest for a cure.

Continue reading This is my MD Anderson.

By Holly Easley

Holly Easley began her cancer journey five years ago when she was diagnosed with myelodysplastic syndrome (MDS). After two types of chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant, she says she loves life, is improving daily and enjoys blogging about the cancer experience at http://hollyeasley.wordpress.com/.

My husband and I arrived in Houston a week early for my stem cell transplant. We wanted to get him moved into an apartment and I needed several tests prior to the surgery. 

My appointments that week included a CT scan, anesthesia assessment, transplant coordinator visit, bone marrow biopsy, echocardiogram, subclavian catheter insertion, complete pulmonary function test, social work visit, business office appointment and an appointment with Chitra Hosing, M.D., my stem cell transplant doctor. 

One of the most helpful things I experienced that week was a stem cell pre-admission class. In the class, the nurse told us about everything from hospital admission to the dismissal. It was very informative.

Beginning the journey
I was admitted for my stem cell transplant on May 17, 2011.

Continue reading My stem cell transplant hospital admission .

By Sophia M.

Oh, does the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee smell good in the morning -- even if I cough and sneeze while drinking it. The coughing and sneezing are a small price to pay for having what, for me, is the perfect welcome to a new day. And, I surely did miss it during those endless months of recuperation.

I consider myself an optimist -- maybe as that famous song from South Pacific says, "A Cockeyed Optimist." Nonetheless, it took me a long time to say the words "I have chordoma disease." 

I guess because I have always refused to consider this disease a major part of my identity, and although it is a definite part of my physical being, it is not the core part of my psyche.

That's not to say that I'm unrealistic. I just prefer to compartmentalize that aspect of my life and put that bundle of worries somewhere "over there" while I live as best I can. Of course, sporadic moments remind me each day of my post-surgical deficits and that this disease and I are inextricably intertwined.

Those moments include setting aside the necessary time each morning (after coffee) to do the mouth, lip, tongue and stretching exercises to keep my speech and eating mechanisms more facile.

Looking back at the events that brought me to MD Anderson compels me to relive some painful, poignant memories. But I'm writing these words in hope that my story can, in some small way, provide inspiration for others.

Continue reading Chordoma, caring and coffee.

By Angela Rankin

Angela Rankin is a three-time primary cancer survivor, who attributes her positive attitude and "fighting" stamina to her faith, family and friends. The excellent care received at MD Anderson gave her "healing confidence."

She continues to fight as she also deals with Parkinson's disease and severe back problems. She's been an active member of MD Anderson's Celebration Singers, a singing group made up of cancer survivors and caregivers, and has no doubt that music heals.

When I was diagnosed with stage three ovarian cancer in 2005, I knew I had a long road ahead of me. Then, the "road" took a series of unexpected turns when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, melanoma and Parkinson's disease within the next three years.

I was being treated at the No. 1 cancer hospital in the country, but I also needed medicine for my mind. That's when I decided to focus on music. "He who sings scares away his woes." (Cervantes)

Continue reading "Tuned" for healing.

By David Renninger, facilities project manager

As one of the world's most respected cancer centers, MD Anderson symbolizes excellence. This includes our facilities -- a network of state-of-the-art buildings interconnected by lushly appointed gardens and green spaces throughout the main Houston campus.

The beauty of our gardens is recognized throughout the region, but they serve a much larger role than to simply add curb appeal to buildings.

MD Anderson's gardens and green spaces contribute to a holistic healing process, lift the spirits of patients and improve patient satisfaction.

The mission of our in-house grounds and landscape team is to enhance the MD Anderson experience by creating and maintaining healing and therapeutic environments of care for patients, visitors and staff.

The gardens are dynamic environments and always in a state of renovation. We constantly strive to capture the interest of garden visitors and provide them with a positive distraction from the burdens of their hospital stay.

Continue reading The Restorative Effect of Gardens at MD Anderson.

By Charles Haynes, J.D.

In 2006, frustrated by the lack of research and treatment options for patients with ependymoma, Mark Gilbert, M.D., deputy chair of the Department of Neuro-Oncology at MD Anderson, proposed  creating an international group to develop new treatments for this rare type of brain tumor.

Under Gilbert's guidance, the Collaborative Ependymoma Research Network (CERN) Foundation was established with the mission of developing new treatments for ependymoma, improving the outcomes and care of patients and, ultimately, finding a cure.  

Today, the CERN Foundation is a dynamic, multi-institutional collaborative effort comprised of investigators from over 20 international cancer centers with leadership from MD Anderson (for adults) and St. Jude Children's Research Hospital (for pediatrics).  

The CERN initiative is built around the following interrelated projects: pathology, developmental therapeutics, stem cells and laboratory models, patient outcomes  assessment, public awareness and outreach. These complimentary projects are all focused on supporting CERN's clinical trial efforts, which are currently accruing patients to three Phase II trials and one Phase I trial.

On April 19, 2012, the CERN Foundation was joined by patients, caregivers, advocates and health care professionals from around the world in celebrating the first Ependymoma Awareness Day. Ten governmental entities, including the City of Houston and the state of Texas, officially recognized April 19 as Ependymoma Awareness Day. 

Hope takes flight
The special day was commemorated with a mass butterfly release on the grounds of the Houstonian Hotel. Over 700 live butterflies were released to honor those affected by ependymoma and to support ependymoma research.

Continue reading Shedding Light on the Ependymoma Fight .

By Andrew Griffith

Andrew Griffith has mantle cell lymphoma and has had both an autologous (from his own cells)   and an allogeneic (from a donor)  stem cell transplant, in November 2009 and August 2011, respectively He lives in Canada and is married with two young adult children. He blogs at www.lymphomajourney.wordpress.com and can be followed on Twitter @lymphomajourney.

Just as preparing for a lengthy hospital stay requires planning, so does returning to home after the hospital. While your condition and strength will shape the best approach for you, my experience following my stem cell transplants may be helpful should you find yourself in this situation.

Before you leave get the information you need: Most hospitals are pretty good in providing written information sheets on follow-up care, related instructions, and warning signs when and who to call. Read them and have your caregiver read and understand them. If they are unclear, ask members of your medical team (nurses are generally the best on practical questions).

Post them in an easy, visible place so they are quickly accessible when a complication requires you to call.

Recognise your weakness: The nature of the treatment, and the likely limited opportunities for exercise in the hospital, will mean that you may feel weak upon your return. In my case, this was particularly acute after being in isolation after a c. difficile infection (a bacteria that causes severe intestinal problems), even going up and down stairs was a challenge.

Continue reading Returning From a Long Hospital Stay.

By William Fitzgerald, MD Anderson Staff Writer

Jon Thompson lives a remarkable life.  He's a West Point graduate, a former pilot in Vietnam and successful business owner. He's visited more than 42 countries on official U.S. government trips, met with curators in the Louvre, seen the wreckage of the Titanic on the ocean floor and is currently searching for Amelia Earhart's lost plane.

You could say he gives the Dos Equis ad-man a serious run for the "most interesting man in the world" title. For Thompson, it wasn't a lost bag or plane ticket that interrupted his life's journey. It was cancer.

When his PSA score jumped double digits, he was referred for a number of biopsies that came back positive for prostate cancer. A natural researcher and explorer, Thompson quickly began searching for available treatments. After speaking with a family friend, he learned about MD Anderson's Proton Therapy Center and decided it was for him.

Continue reading Prostate Cancer Doesn't Hold Life-Long Adventurer Back.

By Ed Steger

Ed Steger is a head and neck cancer survivor. He was diagnosed in 2005 and after rough patches in 2006 and 2007 has been in remission. He writes a blog about his cancer experience at www.hncancer.blogspot.com.

Continued from Tuesday's post

Being more empathetic and compassionate
I understand what empathy and compassion are and believe I have always had these traits, but to a somewhat limited degree. As a result of my personal cancer experience, I'm feeling these emotions at a deeper level. It's one thing to know someone is in pain; it's completely different to actually feel that pain.

Having had my own pain during the past seven years, I can now more easily feel the pain of others. I have also had some wonderful role models, who showed me empathy and compassion during this cancer journey. I still have a ways to go here, but I do believe it's making me a better person.

Supporting cancer research
A friend recently volunteered to make a donation to a research program at MD Anderson. My siblings have made donations to my cancer center. One of them even asked her co-workers to make donations to my cancer center. I, too, have made financial contributions and hope to do more in the future. I believe the research I support will ultimately lead to improved prevention, early detection and the treatment of head and neck cancer.

Continue reading A Second Chance at Life Part II.

By Ed Steger

Ed Steger is a head and neck cancer survivor. He was diagnosed in 2005 and after rough patches in 2006 and 2007 has been in remission. He writes a blog about his cancer experience at www.hncancer.blogspot.com.

How often have you said to yourself, "If only I had a chance to start over?"

Although I've been living with cancer since early 2005, it was only within the past year that I had an epiphany: I actually do have a second chance at life! Not a "time machine" type second chance, but a chance to re-evaluate my life before cancer and decide how I will live my life going forward.

Part of this was driven by the realization that I probably won't die of cancer within the next three months. The other part was driven by the need to re-purpose my life after meeting a major goal -- providing guidance and watching my then 13-year-old daughter mature, graduate from high school and begin her life as an independent young woman.

That being "done" -- is one ever done? --  the following is what I've decided to do with my second chance.

Continue reading A Second Chance at Life .