No Chemo Last Week

And other health-related issues...

This journey through cancer is not for the faint of heart.

I realized this anew the Sunday before my third week of chemo. It was a day that began with a simple, nagging suspicion: a bladder infection. The kind of thing you hope is just a minor inconvenience. I found myself in urgent care, where the doctor handed me antibiotics with the assurance that they’d do the trick. As the day wore on, so did my discomfort and when my fever reached 38 degrees, the on-call oncologist said go to the ER and no chemo the next day.

As if cancer itself weren’t enough, now I had to worry about missing a treatment. What if the cancer, unopposed for a week, seized the opportunity to grow wild? I pushed the thought away. It will be fine, I told myself. It has to be. Lots of people missed treatments and they were fine.

The ER was a study in patience, or perhaps the lack thereof. First, the triage nurse failed to ask me if I had drug allergies - I have three. When I was called in I had to explain that to them and they gave me a second paper bracelet with nothing on it. Then a urine test - but it spilled and they needed a second one. The lab tech who drew my blood was a rare bright spot in the night, so skilled that I barely felt a thing.

At the ER

And then, the waiting. The clock on the wall seemed to slow with every passing minute, stretching time into a thin, unbearable thread. Finally, the doctor comes. He’s concerned I am going to miss chemo the next day which worries me. The diagnosis - a bladder and kidney infection. He gave me an IV full of antibiotics and then sent me home with a prescription for a different antibiotic. He was very nice and I felt well taken care of despite the above mishaps.

The next morning I felt fine and called the treatment room. My chemo had not been cancelled. Really? For sure? Yes, you are here on the list. So off I went to treatment but when I arrived, the waiting game started all over again. Minutes ticked by until I finally asked what was taking so long. It’s too far past my time and I know I checked in downstairs. The nurse’s face fell as she realized the mix-up—my chemo had been delayed after all, but no one had told the clerks at the front desk. A simple oversight, but in this world of tightly wound nerves, it seemed a bit too much. A forty-minute drive times two with the cost of gas so high, it felt like a waste.

Oh well, what can you do? I flipped the narrative and looked for the positive. I got to spend more time with my hubby in the car, the sunshine made the Fraser River sparkle, the mountains were majestic to look at, and the sky was bright and blue. How blessed am I?

I head home and start my prescription of antibiotics. I decide, sure, I can return to camp. So off I go after packing up and getting the animals into the car. I drive to Horseshoe Bay and right onto the ferry - no waiting. However, when I get to the camp and go to unpack the car, I get excruciating pain in the back of my knees. It was pain beyond the familiar 1-10 scale, the kind that makes you question your own body’s betrayal. For a moment, panic gripped me—what was this? Why now? I had to get the bags into the trailer, so I forced myself to walk, and miraculously, the pain subsided.

Great, I think.

But relief was fleeting. As soon as I stopped moving, the pain returned with a vengeance, nearly knocking me off my feet. I finally got everything into the trailer. Moving helps. Lifting one leg off the floor helps for a brief moment. Sitting down frequently in between trying to unpack allows me to finish eventually.

I thought perhaps my hamstrings were tight so I did some stretching. Yeah, they’re a bit tight, but not enough to cause this awful pain. No muscle spasms. No knots that I can feel. Is it my lower spine pinching something? Is it sciatic pain? No, it does not behave like it. I’ve had that before and the pain circles the leg from the lower back down. This is just behind my knees, from the lower thigh to the upper calf. Then it started down the back of my arm. When my arm hung limp at my side, the pain was unbearable, but lifting it brought relief. It made no sense, a new puzzle for a body already full of mysteries. As I sat there, alone in my trailer, the pain dictating my every movement, I couldn’t help but think how strange this all was. Strange and, in some small way, surreal. And so, I waited. Waited for the pain to pass, for answers to come, for the next step in this journey that felt as unpredictable as the pain itself.

Mom, you should keep moving…

At camp, I’m surrounded by blessings in the form of kind, caring people. When I call for help, they answer without hesitation. One friend stopped by just to check on me, another sent her daughters to walk the dog, and yet another ran out to pick up groceries. My daughter Sheena came up to stay the night, offering support until my husband could arrive. And through it all, my furry companions never left my side, always keeping watch.

But as the pain persisted, I called the cancer nurse line. The nurse, puzzled by my symptoms, consulted the oncologist. The verdict? This doesn’t sound like a side effect—you need to be evaluated. So, I made an appointment with my doctor.

It was so difficult. I felt vulnerable, as though every emotion I had was riding a wave—sometimes crashing high, sometimes ebbing low. My mind wandered through the maze of worst-case scenarios, unable to settle. Was it something serious? Or just another side effect? When I finally spoke to my family doctor, he reassured me: this pain is too strange to be anything but a side effect of the chemo. I believed him; he’s usually right.

On a lighter note, I’m grateful for my dog’s retractable leash. When she pauses to sniff or do her business, I keep moving—walking back and forth, sometimes in circles, just to stay in motion. It’s absurd, really: movement brings relief, but standing still brings pain. It’s bizarre.

I read about the side effects other women are going through with their chemo treatments and some are far worse than this. A week later, the pain has dulled—still present, but milder now, only in one leg, and it doesn’t start right away. Massage, muscle relaxants, heat, cold—I don’t know what worked, or if the pain just faded on its own. There’s so much I don’t understand.

This week I came across a post in a Facebook group for people my type of cancer. Someone shared their fear of the cancer returning. Triple-negative breast cancer has a 25% reoccurrence rate, usually within the first five years. However, one woman commented and said she had her cancer 22 years ago and it never returned. I couldn’t resist asking her what she did to help prevent it. Here it is:

• She cleared her cupboards of all chemical-laden products—laundry detergent, body wash, facial products, shampoos—and switched to natural, chemical-free alternatives.

• She stopped eating processed carbohydrates and processed meats, bought organic, and washed all her fruits and vegetables.

• She started losing weight by eating right.

• She began a regular, moderate exercise routine.

Inspired, I examined my shampoo and found chemicals linked to cancer. That was it—I decided to switch to natural products. I’m also exploring the keto diet, which I successfully followed before. The forward in a book I ordered was written by a researcher who studied the ketogenic diet’s anti-tumour effects in mice. Dr. Seyfried, a leading figure in this research, even recommended the book. It’s fascinating stuff, and I’m ready to give it a try again.

Whether I can stick to it remains to be seen. I’ve done it before, losing weight and lowering my insulin levels through intermittent fasting and the keto diet. Last year, during a kidney and bowel infection, I fasted for 21 days—not by choice—and lost 25 pounds. When I resumed eating, I gained back only 5 pounds and kept the rest off effortlessly.

But I have a sweet tooth, and one cheat and I’m like an alcoholic who ‘fell off the wagon.’ My favourite sweet is ice cream (dairy-free.) A single indulgence, and I gain a few pounds overnight, only for it to settle back down in a couple of days. My feet and lower legs swell, my rings tighten, and my belly bloats. I always swear it won’t happen again, but it does. The same goes for dairy; if I indulge, my body reacts with inflammation, mucous buildup, and overnight weight gain. A day later, I’m sneezing as my body tries to rid itself of the effects. If you catch me sneezing, it’s a sign I’ve cheated again.

As the journey progresses I find myself feeling the highs and lows. I am mostly positive and look for the humour of it all, the ridiculousness. I have developed a morbid sense of humour and it seems to help. But when it gets hard, I encourage myself with my favourite gospel hymns I remember from my youth.

For now, I will encourage myself with these verses.

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” – Psalm 23:4

What is the sense of having faith if I cannot take comfort in knowing that God is with me, he is my comfort, his people his hands? This is faith. I know the prayers people are offering on my behalf are helping me to stay positive. I know God hears me. My prayer is that he will relieve this side effect.

Today, I am grateful for:

• God’s people who came alongside to help me

• My dog, Tallulah, who is not young anymore and behaves on walks

• For my cat, River, who climbs up on me and claims me for his own

• For my space here and the beauty and calm it brings

• A beautiful new song I found in the cancer group

As always, I am grateful for your continued prayers and encouragement. Light those candles, send me positive energy, pray for me… send me inspirational music and especially, send me funny cat videos.

Grace & Peace,

Kathie