Sugar: Good or Evil?

Recently a friend with breast cancer forwarded various links to websites claiming that 'sugar feeds cancer'.  What do you think? she asked me imploringly.  Do we have to cut sugar out of our diets to beat cancer?

Sigh.  On top of everything else we are going through, do we really have to give up the little sweet treats that get us through?

I checked out the links and could see why she was alarmed.  'Sugar and cancer are in a death grip' one proclaimed ominously.  Cancer feeds on sugar, therefore the answer must be to cut all sugar out of our diet and starve the cancer to death.

Like most things scientific, it seems that the truth is a lot more complicated.

The excellent link below to Cancer Research UK debunks a number of 'myths', including this one.

First of all, they explain that our body breaks our food down into building blocks.  Sugar, the white stuff on the table, is broken down into the building blocks glucose and fructose which are used to feeds all the cells in our body and give them energy to do their jobs.  Glucose is supposedly the evil villain which is feeding our cancer.

Eating sugar will obviously release glucose into your system.  But actually, glucose comes from other sources too.  Like milk.  And even vegetables.  Our cells, including the cancerous ones, don't mind a bit where their glucose-food came from originally.

Now it is true that most cancer cells grow fast and therefore gobble up more glucose than most other types of cells, often up 200 times as much (this is known as the Warburg effect after the scientist who discovered it).

But other cells need glucose too.  In fact some pretty significant cells also need large amounts of glucose to do their jobs.  Cells in our immune system and stem cells gobble up glucose too, and personally I'd like  my immune system to be in tip-top condition and for my body to be able to replace old cells with new ones.

Your body knows it's got an army of cells that need feeding and so it will do its best to keep its glucose levels stable whatever you eat.  Even if you starve, your body will find other ways to make glucose for as long as it can.

And more recent research has shown that it isn't even true that all cancer cells need a high glucose diet.

The more you dig into this, the more you realise that the picture is very complicated.  Simplifications like 'sugar feeds cancer' really don't help much.

But before we scoff down a bag of cookies, there is another message out there which is super simple as well as being consistent and supported by every scientific study.

A healthy diet - high in fruit and vegetables and low in sugary and processed foods - combined with exercise and not being overweight is the best way to combat a whole variety of horrible diseases.  Including cancer.

So this is my simple conclusion.  My best way back to physical health is to eat healthily, exercise steadily and keep my weight under control.  But my mental health is also important.  If the odd bit of chocolate or a sticky pudding, taken in moderation, can get me through the stress of life with a smile on my face...then that's just fine too.

http://scienceblog.cancerresearchuk.org/2014/03/24/dont-believe-the-hype-10-persistent-cancer-myths-debunked/#sweet-tooth

Running the last chemo mile

I confess to starting yesterday in tears, though I finished it in smiles.

Yesterday was Back to School Day so at 7am I was dragging myself out of bed feeling rotten after yet another sleepless night and making the kids breakfasts in a puddle of self-pitying tears.  How can I describe how I feel at the moment?  The worst of the weekly muscle aches and stabbing pains worked themselves out over the weekend but I still have various niggles including a return of mouth ulcers and an embarrassing itch which is bad enough to give me sleepless nights.  But overall I just feel....weak.  I have wobbly legs and no strength in my arms.  Halfway up the stairs I have to rest, gasping for breath.  It is as if I am getting over a horrible bout of flu that has sucked my strength away.  You might even have thought I did have flu over the weekend as I was coughing all the time, but apparently that's just fluid on the lungs...

Anyway, yesterday I got the kids off to school and headed up to the hospital for my weekly blood test: another bruise to add to the collection up and down my forearm.

The good news is that this should be the very last week of chemo.  The end of my five-month FEC-Taxol chemo marathon is in sight!  But last week my white blood cell count spectacularly crashed again so the doctor warned that I was unlikely to be able to go ahead with chemo this week.  Another delay, another week of chemo dragging on.  Not a big deal perhaps, but every extra mile at the end of a marathon seems a long way.  And to make it worse, the chemo that should have been finished by Christmas looked as if it would drag on into a celebratory weekend with a friend visiting from the States after all - bummer.

At the hospital, things were busy with post festive-season appointments and we had to wait an hour and a half in the dismal waiting room to see the doctor.  I started on conspiracy theories.  She must be consulting my oncologist about my white blood cell problem. What would he recommend?  Would I have to do yet another course of the dreaded Neupogen shots before I could progress to the last chemo session?

Finally I was shown in.  My doctor smiled.  She can't explain why, but  my crazy white blood cell count has gone back up again by itself despite last week's Taxol.  Still low - but high enough to go ahead with chemo. 

So today I arrived at hospital and followed the 'Route 42' signs to the chemo ward for the very last time(as one of my visitors said, it sounds like directions to a motorway).  I nipped down the short-cut tunnel that I only found because a friend tipped me off and straight to the bank of lifts that took me several visits to work out how to operate.  How well I know how it all works now!  Was there a trace of nostalgia as I effortlessly found my way to level 4, watching the newbies bewilderment as they tried to figure out the system?  Well, maybe just a bit. 

But three hours later I walked out, a little slow and weak, with one, big, happy smile on my face.


I feel like a marathon runner who has suddenly realised that the finishing line is a mile closer than expected.  There's still a bit to run but my flagging footsteps have gained a bit of extra bounce. 

Cancer: Bad Luck or the Best Way to Die?

This week the news revealed a few fascinating cancer-related stories.

The big headline was about why we get cancer: researchers at John Hopkins University School of Medicine have concluded that it's basically bad luck.  Only a minority of cancers are caused by lifestyle, environment or genes, most of us just had cells that made random mistakes when they divided.  You can just imagine the daft cell in my breast that got bored with making exact replicas of itself and one day decided to spice it up a bit (how about swapping this bit of my DNA with that one, how does that look?  Er, actually looks rather scary...oops).

I have mixed feelings about shrugging it off onto bad luck.  On the one hand, it's a relief to think that it isn't my fault that my family and I are going through the misery of chemo (there's always that little guilty voice that wonders...if only I'd exercised more/eaten bio products/or even that weird one, not used the microwave so much...). 

On the other hand, 'bad luck' leaves us powerless to prevent the nightmare of recurrence.   If it's just down to some daft cells then I can't do anything to stop it happening again.  And apparently those of us with Lobular Breast Cancer in one breast have notably increased chances of the cells in our other breast being equally daft at some point.  

Anyway, a little more digging reveals that this research didn't include breast cancer because the existing information on stem cell division rates in this part of the body is unreliable.  So I'm going to stick with the research that showed that exercise can reduce chances of breast cancer recurring and my new year's resolution is to get fitter...even if that comes with a faint reproach that perhaps I should have joined a gym ten years ago. 

At least science isn't just shrugging its shoulders and saying, bad luck guys, time to die.  Which is basically what the lovely Dr Smith has said in the British Medical Journal.  Cancer is, he claims, the best way to die and a jolly good thing for an ageing population.  Bonus all round - we get a protracted death which gives us lots of time to say goodbyes to our loved ones and the planet gets a bit more room when we've gone!  Thanks Dr Smith but I am not yet prepared to 'say goodbye...listen to favourite pieces of music..and prepare...to meet [my] maker.'  I'll stick with my own doctor and take the chemo if it's all the same to you.

And finally, that brings me to a lovely story which shows that nature has its own sense of harmony and balance.  Josie Conlon is in the news because her 2-year old collie dog, Ted, discovered her breast cancer.  She was alerted to the problem when the dog urgently nosed and whined at her breast: tests revealed a particularly aggressive tumour that was caught in the nick of time.  Crazy?  Not so!  Dogs have already been shown to be able to diagnose a number of diseases and there are now trials on-going with dogs able to sniff out breast cancers.  It's still in early stages, but how lovely to imagine a future where cancer can be diagnosed by an enthusiastic, wet nosed doggy instead of flattening your breasts for a mammogram. 

So there you have it, most cancer might be largely bad luck but regular exercise could still reduce your chances of breast cancer coming back.  Best way to die or not, I'm thinking it's time to get a dog to take on brisk walks in the park.  I've got a lot of living to do yet, Dr Smith. 

Staggering towards the chemo finish line

I'm in bed and I'm cold, cuddling the hot water bottle I made to soothe my muscles aches and the spasms in my joints.  The next moment, heat creeps across my scalp and I'm pulling off my night cap (very unflattering but bald heads do get jolly cold) and throwing off the duvet, expelling the hot water bottle from the bed.  The heat radiates down my body and dissipates: hot flash over, I'm freezing again.  My night cap has vanished and my hot water bottle is sulking under the bed and the duvet resists my feeble tug. 

No wonder I'm tired in the mornings.

Tired, achy all over, numb at the tops of my fingers and worrying about the brownness of my nails (but no flaking yet) and itchy in places I really don't want to describe in detail.  And so, so very glad that it's nearly all over. 

My doctor is glad too: my white blood cells are low yet again this despite my post-Neupogen peak last week.  My bone marrow is 'sensitive', apparently and she doesn't think I could do much more.  But I got the green light for the eighth of my nine weekly Taxol today so next week will the last....if my white blood cells hold up.

On a more positive note though, I had imagined that I might be languishing in bed by this stage of chemo and I am most definitely not that bad.  We had to stay home this Christmas due to the weekly treatments but we've still been out and about on day trips and I've coped fine - with a more restful day in between anyway.  My appetite is positively good now (unlike on FEC) so I've enjoyed all the festive fare, though a weekly weighing does have the disadvantage that I now know exactly how much I put on over Christmas...oops.

Chemo has definitely been tough but nothing like as bad as I had feared.

So all in all, I might be staggering towards the finish line -  but at least I'm still getting there on my own two feet.

Ten Good Things About Having Cancer

New Year is approaching, that reflective time when we look back at the year gone by.  On the face of it, 2014 was a pretty crappy year for me: cancer diagnosis, mastectomy, chemotherapy...  Cancer definitely sucks - but there were some pretty good things about 2014 too.

Back when I was about to start chemo and needed cheering up, I set myself the challenge of finding Ten Good Things about Having Cancer, and they had to be genuinely good things, not just Things That Could Have Been Worse.    As the end of year swings round, I thought this was a good time to remind myself. 

So here goes.

1.       Recreating close family bonds
This remains my number one.  My husband has been tremendous and it has recreated a closeness between us that routine life had started to erode.  My kids have shown understanding beyond their years and buoyed me up with their love and affection.  And the extended family have rallied round with support.  Something like this makes us say the things that too often go unsaid.

2.       Deepening friendships
 I've also been really touched by the way that friends have rallied around and offered help.  Meals provided, messages of support, help with childcare and shoulders to cry on.  Strong friendships are forged in times of trouble.

3.       Everyone thinks you're amazing
Seriously.  Just plaster a smile to your face and crack a few jokes about being bald and everyone will shake their heads and declare that you are just so brave.  Am I brave?  Of course not!  It's not like I have any choice, I've been dealt a crap hand and I just have to get on with living life as best as I can.  Yet somehow this brings me close to sainthood status.  This is cool.  Enjoy.

4.     Even baldness has its benefits
Losing my hair was one of the things that scared me most (more than losing my breast).  I won't say it hasn't been a pain but, with a decent wig and some great headscarves, it hasn't been the stuff of nightmares either.  And it comes with benefits: showers are super fast now that I don't have to faff around washing and blow drying my hair.  Meanwhile the signs have gone up at school warning that those dreaded head lice are creeping through our children's hair again.  Usually the mere idea is enough to have me scratching away until my scalp hurts.  Not this time.  Even if my kids get it, I will be a Bald Nit-Free Zone.  And all that time wasted shaving legs and arm pits?  No longer necessary!

5.       Guilt free chat sessions
It's difficult to find proper time to catch up with friends and easy to feel guilty about snatched coffees when really you should be doing laundry/shopping/ironing.  But I've taken to inviting people to join me at the hospital while I have my chemo session.  Hours of guilt free chatting, it's not like you can be doing much else while hooked up to an IV after all!

6.       Exercise, exercise, exercise
I’ve been saying for a long time that I need to do more exercise but there always seem to be other chores that need doing first and it never happens.  Now the doctor has prescribed at least 2.5 hours of exercise per week.  So now no-one can complain that the laundry isn’t done and they don’t have clean underwear because I was too busy walking in the park.  It’s doctor’s orders.  I’m looking forward to the challenge of getting fitter...and doing fewer chores.

7.       Improving my French
This probably isn’t one that will apply to many readers but I guess it shows that we all have our own positive outcomes depending on our situation.  As an English speaker living in Brussels, I have struggled to practice my French without people just switching into English.  At the hospital, most of the nurses prefer to stick to French and, if they are busy changing bandages etc, there is always an opportunity to attempt a bit of a chat.  You’d pay a fortune to go to a French conversation class for that!

8.       Reading some good books
Waiting for hours in busy, strip-lit corridors of the hospital for endless appointments isn't how I'd choose to spend my time.  But I've been able to read those books I've wanted to read for ages.

9.       The opportunity to be selfishMost of us spend a lot of time running around after others.  This is a great excuse to put our feet up with a cup of tea and get them to run around after us for a change.  Or book that spa weekend with a girlfriend.  Who can say no to someone with breast cancer?

10.    The fierce exhilaration of being aliveI’m ending on a philosophical one.  Sometimes life can get a bit too comfortable – everything trundles along on an even keel.  But if we don’t experience some downs, we also don’t get the exhilarating ups.  Life can become flat, passing by in grey tones.
There's nothing flat about crossing the treacherous mountain range of Cancer.  There's nothing like the long haul of chemo to make you thrill with life on the occasional days of feeling actually well.  Or swell with a sense of achievement when another milestone is passed on the road to recovery.  Or burn with gratitude when a meal is delivered to the door on a fatigue-filled day.  I remember the fierce joy of pointing directly up at a blue sky with my left arm six weeks after my mastectomy, when I had doubted I'd ever be that flexible again.  And the heady relief when my liver finally got the all-clear.
So 2014 might not go down as my luckiest year ever ... but it will definitely be an intensely memorable one.

We Will Not Live In Fear

A friend in the Netherlands was recently diagnosed with Lobular Breast Cancer, ironically her tumour is almost identical to mine.  Her misfortune has been my blessing: I now have a friend to accompany me along this difficult road.

We were emailing each other about the chances of our cancer coming back in the future and I asked the question, "Will we always be afraid?"

This is her beautiful response.

'We will not live in fear, because we will choose not to live in fear. 

We will remember that we once had cancer, but the memory will become softer over the years. 

We will know that there is always a chance that it comes back and we will stay aware, but at the same time shrug our shoulders, because we will realize that we could also be hit by a car the very next day. 

We will make our lives worthwhile and spend our time wisely.

We will love our husbands and children more than ever. 

We will not live in fear, but in appreciation and gratefulness.

We will have a wonderful life, for however long it takes.'

A Christmas Gift

It's Christmas week, the festive lights are twinkling, there are presents under the tree ...and Santa delivered an early Christmas gift. 

Last week those pesky white blood cells were low again so my doctor prescribed another five day course of Neupogen to stimulate the bone marrow alongside my usual weekly course of Taxol.

So my handy husband has been 'nurse' again, administering the injections in my festively bulging belly, and I have endured a week of Taxol muscle aches plus Neupogen bone pains.  It's been tough, especially during long, painful, sleepless nights.  But it was worth it.

Today I got just what I wanted for Christmas: my blood test result was NORMAL.  That's the first time since I started chemo in August.  And as a bonus gift, my blood pressure (normally very low) was also normal (clearly due to my excellent efforts to increase my salt intake as instructed.  More crisps, please!).

As the pains wear off, I'm feeling good.  It probably won't last too long as I will have chemo again tomorrow but hey, I'm going to enjoy this Christmas bonus as long as I can!

I'm grateful to be in such good shape so near to the end of chemo.  I had never expected to feel such vitality at this point, even if it is just a brief window.  My body seems to be determined to bounce back; I even have a fresh crop of fuzz growing on my baldie head.

Yah-boo cancer - you can get this babe down but you can't keep her there.

Happy Christmas everyone!