“Being given this gift is a rare insight not many get to have, until it’s too late to apply it. I have the pleasure of giving a glimpse to all of you now” pheo vs fabulous
Being palliatively treated was one of my biggest fears, because it meant I was dying. Everyone was speaking to me about my death, it was the hot topic of my 20s. A lonely place to be in.
If something is terrifying to you, it’s because it’s foreign. By getting to know our fears better, it will become less so.
My curiosity made my fear of death less foreign. I challenged the purpose of this care, whether it was to die or to help my pain and suffering while LIVING.
If used properly, it can be such a beautiful way of removing suffering allowing you to LIVE fully. I am privileged to have learned this
I realized then by sharing my life and my story as a young seemingly vibrant ‘full of life’ woman… it would make others challenge the ideology that surrounds death also. When someone else is confronted with the same fate, they will see that there’s more to death than just dying. You have to have lived in order to die.
I share my life to bring light to these topics that we see as dark. I share as a reminder to take notice of all the beautiful moments and let it inspire you. The way I hopefully inspired you.
Like everything in life there are stages, palliative care is full of people who are very much alive. like me.
You may be wondering why I’m talking about this. Well because I have this unique lens to offer my point of view. By no means do we have to be happy about dying, but we CAN be at peace with it.
Happiness and sadness have to coexist, happiness is a comparative emotion. Once you feel some level of pain and sadness, you can feel happiness and gratitude. Otherwise you’d not know when happiness is, we wouldn’t feel joy. We would feel… neutral, we wouldn’t feel the euphoria of relief and the multitude of emotions.
Light can’t exist without dark, happiness can’t exist without sadness, just like life and death. We can’t live unless we die. We can’t die unless we’ve lived.
THAT is what I mean when I say I’m terminal and thriving, staying fabulous, or fighting pretty. I am able to live through pain because it’s what has led me to my happiness. Living in peace with my body, illness, even death, has given me this gift to live with the purpose we ALL deserve.
I never ever want anyone to pity me, I want you to feel so empowered and fearless to apply this point of view to all aspects of your life. I have chosen to share my unique lens to comfort, to change, to challenge, to connect.
Even if you feel you can’t relate to what I share, we all have life in common. Know that you don’t have to face death in order to start truly living. We all have fears, we all want happiness, we all live and die.
Being given this gift is a rare insight not many get to have, until it’s too late to apply it. I have the pleasure of giving a glimpse to all of you now.
I can’t control how others view the world, happiness, death, or even how you view me. I do however hope that you feel the love in my intention.
In the blink of an eye, my life has changed so many times, for better and for worse. What I’ve shared with you today is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to learn. Yet it’s my most profound lesson, and I’m honoured to be here alive to share it with you.
I hope a little piece of what I put into the world finds it’s way to you. A mindset tip, a makeup hack, a cute outfit for a hospital day, ways to cope, a tip to advocate, a goofy video, how to fight pretty, or a super profound shift in spiritual awareness.
Whatever it may be, these are all the pieces that make us who we are, I hope it leads you to your own ‘fabulous’.
“Fabulous is your light, your smile, your energy, your positivity, your willfulness, your vitality, passion, excitement, beauty, laugh, and how you share it!” – Pheo VS Fabulous
You may have heard this term before, maybe even more so recently. Maybe it’s happened to you, it’s not something new, but rather something that’s being acknowledged and talked about more.
So what is medical gaslighting?
(gaslighting) — the repeated denial of someone’s reality in an attempt to invalidate or dismiss them — is a form of emotional abuse.
(Medical) gaslighting happens when health-care professionals downplay or blow off symptoms you know you’re feeling and instead try to convince you they’re caused by something else—or even that you’re imagining them.
It can sometimes be tricky to identify when it’s happening, sometimes it’s a clear refusal to treat or acknowledge a patient’s symptoms. Sometimes they will acknowledge the symptoms but not want to treat you. However, it doesn’t always happen through words. Some examples of non verbal can happen through: prolonged silence, a condescending sigh, sarcasm, a tone of disbelief or disapproval. None of which will be noted in your medical file, only imprinted on your heart and in your mind. When replaying the events, and asked “well what did they say?” You may not be able to recount a time that they ever outright told you that you’re over-exaggerating, only you will have felt the dismissal through those non verbal communications. You will leave with no answers, more questions than when you began.
After this happens to us, we often leave questioning our own reality regarding our condition, which can lead us to not wanting to talk about the severity our symptoms anymore, or at all. Leading to a prolonged diagnosis, and danger to our ongoing health.
Which leads me to why I’m speaking out about it. Most of you know me for being an advocate for rare cancer, and more so, always having a positive outlook or spin on tough situations.
Talking about a tough situation doesn’t make me less positive or weaken our strength, it empowers us with the ability to move forward with our same positive outlook. I don’t want any one situation to disable my ability to speak for myself, advocate for myself, or cripple me with fear. For quite some time, this was the case. The moment I sensed it was happening to me, I would just freeze. I couldn’t speak, I’d instantly get emotional, and I would be filled with fear that I’d be dismissed and get sicker all over again. I wouldn’t want to repeat the events so I too would diminish the severity of my symptoms.
Why? before I knew what the term ‘medical gaslighting’ meant, before I even heard of it, it happened to me for years unknowingly. My clear symptoms being blown off as anxiety by my specialist is what led me to receiving an incurable advanced stage diagnosis of metastatic pheochromocytoma.
I’ve come a long way from that period, and I’ve used it to learn how to fiercely advocate for myself. To know what type of care I’m entitled to, and to know my rights when it comes to my health. Sometimes, it just takes ONE situation to make you feel like you’ve gone backwards. By sharing, this is me taking the step to go forwards and hopefully empower you to feel the same.
I just want to be clear, my current team of doctors and specialists are I-N-C-R-E-D-I-B-L-E. The problem is, during an emergency, you can’t always wait to see your specialist or main doctor. Sometimes, we require emergency care…
My chest is heavy as I’m writing this, I didn’t realize how hard this was going to be. Regardless…
I’m going to share about what happened a couple of nights ago when we had to go to emergency.
I was having a great day, I felt better than I had in a long time. I was relaxed and going to work on a DIY wreath. I suddenly felt a ‘pinched nerve’ type feeling in the right side of my neck. So I decided to just relax for the night and watch a show. I got extremely weak and felt overcome. Then a sudden headache hit me. I wasn’t sure if I was going into some type of flare, so I took the necessary medications when that happens. Still no change, so I went to pick up my phone and record a ‘story’ post to say I wasn’t feeling well. When suddenly I noticed that my eye looked strange. One looked enlarged and had a weird glare, my pupil was misshaped, my eyes didn’t match! I was sure it was the video, so I took a photo. I had never experienced this before, I asked my husband to look and he confirmed one pupil was much larger than the other. I went in the bright light of the bathroom, both pupils returned to a smaller size. I stepped back out into the dim lit living room to re-check, and they then went two different sizes again. Then they just stayed like that. Of course I knew this could be a number of things, but since I had no history of it happening, a sudden change like this is worrisome.
I sat there weighing my options:
Go only if it gets worse (potentially too late if it’s a precursor to a neurological event like a stroke or aneurysm) OR…
Go right now while I can still speak clearly for myself and don’t require emergent complex care
When I go to emergency, like most chronic disease patients, it has to be for something BIG. Something that I have no power to treat myself, something that can’t wait until tomorrow. It often takes multiple people and specialists to convince me to even go.
This was a time where I certainly couldn’t know the seriousness of the event myself. I also couldn’t risk going to sleep and waiting to see my doctor. My thought was: I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t go get checked and it gets worse before tomorrow. Put on your big girl pants and GO, Miranda.
So that’s what I did, I grabbed my hospital ‘go bag’ and all of my supplies needed to speak for myself if I’m unable. My medical ID bracelet, medical resume which outlines my conditions, allergies, and life saving emergency room protocols in the event I go into crisis. We began mechanically preparing for something we’ve done hundreds of time. Knowing that it can either go extremely well, or….. the opposite
My local emergency rooms have been experiencing extreme understaffing, and even close the emerg 3-4 times a week. Even before covid, I’ve not had the best experiences. So we made the decision to drive 1 hour from home to a hospital that I had never been. A blank slate, I felt good about it, and knew it would not be filled with people and covid cases since it’s a very rural hospital.
We arrived to an empty parking lot, an empty waiting room, not a soul in sight. At first we thought this was a good thing, no worries of getting sick or having to be isolated. Low wait times, and all of the care directed towards me since I’m the only one there. High five!
I was triaged right away, my husband who is my primary caregiver couldn’t be with me due to covid. So I explained everything that had happened in detail, and added that I have a very rare cancer with some secondary conditions. All information is relevant when visiting emergency, it’s not up to me to decide what they need to get a clear picture. So I give them the basic facts needed for this visit and let them ask the rest.
I was immediately called, to where I was met by a nurse who immediately told me to go into the exam room. I asked if she had been informed of my emergency protocols that the triage nurse took copy of, *if I am going to have to be alone in a room without supervision in a hospital with no one around… for my own safety I have to know that if I’d go into crisis, they know how to respond properly. This is something I have to bring up any time I will be alone, or when I’m at higher risk of crisis. Since I can’t be treated with an epi-pen and there’s conflicting conditions, it’s not something I can choose to leave out.
She responded with sarcasm that No, she was not informed in the 30 seconds it took to call my name.
I laughed and replied that I get it, my bad! I then proceeded to explain WHY it’s necessary for all of us to be on the same page and that my protocols are designed for emergency room settings by my specialists to outline how to treat my specific case IF any of the following happen.
She cut me off mid sentence and said “I REALLY don’t care” and stormed out of the room. Leaving my husband and I to stand there and wonder… is this how the rest of the night will be?
He instantly reassured me “well, she’s just one person! The doctor will be nice” and I was just grateful that he could be there to be the one to respond IF anything should change with my health. He has all of my injections and medications with him at all times, and knows better than anyone the signs of when to use them.
The doctor came in without introducing herself, and began the norm of asking about why I was there. I started with my eyes, being the main reason I had come in. And then followed with the precipitating symptoms that made the eye issue more worrisome, the neck and head pain. I began having trouble explaining myself, so my husband added the time of when it all began to help me out. She abruptly looks at my husband and says “so she can’t speak for herself? You’re here because she can’t speak on her own? You’re here to speak on her behalf?”
Not that I need to defend this, but yes. My husband literally is there for when I can’t speak for myself. Stress makes it sometimes impossible for me to get a clear speech, I can be fine one moment and then unable to speak or think clearly the next. It’s happened many many times, and it’s the most terrifying thing to happen to a person. Especially when surrounded by strangers.
I then spoke for myself, answering to why he is there. Explaining what I tried to explain to the nurse. I was preparing for the chance that if I had to be kept for observation, they would understand the severity in which my health can change. From one second to the next, which is why it’s essential for everyone treating me to read and understand the protocols. IF anything were to happen, it needs to be decided within seconds. Those seconds are what will make the difference between life and death.
Rather than asking me more about it or if it’s happened before, she replied by saying “so then we can do that for you. He doesn’t have to be here, if anything changes we are capable of knowing if you can’t speak. Or do you think we aren’t capable?”
I could already know by the clipped tone, sarcasm, and tension in the room that I was no longer comfortable. This is the very beginnings of my exam, and we haven’t even begun to speak about WHY I am there. I didn’t feel confident in the surroundings, if you put yourself in my shoes. I have a rare condition that’s already often misunderstood, and require a basic level of understanding in order to be safe. If this level is not met, I am not being left in the care of people who are responsible for my life.
I didn’t want to argue, so to avoid putting fuel on the fire, I calmly explained that I’m not questioning their capability. It’s just if I’m alone in a room, and it happens within seconds, in the event I’m unable to speak, logically I can’t ask for help. I can’t call for assistance, so yes, my husband IS in fact there to speak for me in the event that I cannot.
What happened next is what truly caught me off guard and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stay there should I absolutely need to.
I wanted to get back to the point of why I came to emergency, and have a proper exam for my eyes. So I redirected the conversation and said “can I tell you why I’m here?” She threw down her clipboard and replied “I HOPE you know why you’re here, they woke me up in the middle of the night for this!”
In that moment, I lost all hope for a decent exchange. I was made to feel that I was inconveniencing everyone, that my issue clearly didn’t warrant an emergency. I pushed through my inner voice telling me to just leave, and reminded myself that if I leave without so much as an opinion I will be right where I started. I will have to re-do this at another emerg, and I have a right to proper care. I reminded myself of what I preach, and decided I won’t let this stop me from what I came to do. Ask for help, receive care from the people who are there for that very reason.
At this point she began a basic neuro exam, repeating the questions about what brought me in. Each time she repeated her question, it was said in a more condescending way. (Non verbal cues) she began mixing the order of what I had told her. The neck pain, followed by the sudden headache, and then the pupil dilated. I corrected the order, to which she replied “so you had a headache and you took a Tylenol and it got all better? You took an Advil? A Tylenol? A motrin? What did you take?!”(No where did I say I took anything for my headache) “okay so then your headache wasn’t bad enough to take a Tylenol AND it went away?”
No, I just don’t typically take TYLENOL for my type of headaches. I take a steroid or an antihistamine depending on what type of headache I think it is. This exchange continued on for a bit, the accusatory tone, the trip me up questioning. All of which I endured to get a proper response about why I had come.
My husband patiently waited to interject and let her know that I’ve had two previous strokes. Which is why we found it of urgency to come in and get this checked. We wouldn’t think of coming to the hospital unless it’s an EMERGENCY.
She didn’t seem to find it very concerning, instead she asked me “well why isn’t THAT in your chart then, if you’ve had a stroke, wouldn’t you include it in here?”
I was caught off guard and stunned, so he replied for me. “It happened before her adrenaline was controlled, before she was diagnosed” I always include my most current conditions, because a lot has happened and I can’t fit them all on one page, I don’t think I could fit them in one book let alone a page.
I went along with the touch your nose then my finger game, walked a straight line, and ‘passed the exam’.
She then began to finally explain that they don’t do labs at night, she can’t take my blood, she can’t do a scan, they don’t do anything in the night hours. They are there for emergencies only. A-ha, finally. The confirmation that I am not by their standard an ‘emergency’. Okay, see ya!
But then ….“even if I DID do a scan, it won’t tell me anything because you’re not symptomatic anymore”
Me: “okay, so… if there’s nothing we can do, do I just go home?”
Doctor: “well, we can keep you to observe you to see if it happens again”
Me: “okay and if it does…, that’s when we would do tests and a scan?”
Doctor: “well maybe, MAYBE in the morning”
Me: “so if it DOES happen again, what would you do?”
Doctor: “well like I said we will just monitor you and see if it does”
(Still unclear as to what that will achieve if they’re unable to do blood work or imaging)
Doctor: “I mean you’re fine now, your neuro exam is fine, you’re not having the symptoms anymore”
Me: “okay so I can just go home then? If there’s nothing, I can monitor myself and go to a hospital if it changes?”
At this point she’s said I’m fine more than once, made me feel I’m there for nothing, that there’s nothing they can do at their facility to look further into it. It’s not a guarantee that they will do anything further even when they ARE able to. So the logical conclusion is that I go home and wait for something more to happen and seek care IF it does. If not, see one of my doctors in regular clinic hours.
The doctor then says “okay, well I’ll give you two some time to decide what YOU would like to do”
My husband and I are sitting there looking at each other with the same thought, why are WE (the patient) being told to decide what should happen? Is it to not be liable if something does in fact happen tonight? Either way, at this point you couldn’t have paid me to stay in their care. So I got dressed, and we firmly decided to go home and sort out another plan of action if we could make it through the next 4-5 hours till the doctors open up.
When things changed…
She returned into my room, me fully dressed, standing ready to leave. I thanked her for her time, and proceeded to explain I’d feel safer being at home and will go to a bigger hospital if the symptoms return.
She was completely stunned, which surprised us, now her whole demeanour changed, her mindset, her outlook on my current ‘condition’. She began back peddling and referring to me as a stroke patient. (What?!) she never once mentioned the risk of stroke, even though that’s EXACTLY why I came in the first place.
The entire time I had been there, I was made to question why I was there. That I wasn’t an emergency, not even a brief talk about what could have caused it. The entire exchange was bizarre, and downplayed to the point where of course it made more sense for me to go home and seek an alternate opinion.
The very same doctor then began to speak with more urgency about how I can be fine at this moment, but the same ‘neurological’ event that brought me in can happen again and again until POW! ‘The big one’ happens. Referring to mini strokes and then a large stroke. To which maybe it will be too late to go to the hospital.
Stunned, confused, and curious, I asked: “so…. If I stayed, and you monitor me, and even if the ‘big one’ happens, what would you do?”
Doctor: “well we would still have to ambulate you to the other hospital that could treat you (an hour away where we live). But I still wouldn’t send my stroke patients there! If I had a choice, I’d send them to the civic” (by which she means a larger teaching hospital in a different province) but since it’s a different province, I can’t do that. So I’d have to send you to the other hospital”
Me: “okay… well, our home is much closer to that hospital compared to here. We are just minutes away VS the hour it would take for you to get me there. So for me it still makes more sense to be home, and that way we can make a choice depending on the severity whether we ambulate there or jump in the car to the civic across the bridge”
Doctor: “if you stay here we can monitor you and maybe do a scan in the morning, I see you’re allergic to ‘dye’ (meaning my life threatening allergy to iodine) but I mean if we need to do a CT under emergency we will ‘just do it’
Me: “ummm, you can’t just ‘do it’ when someone has a life threatening allergy to iodine. This is is one of the reasons I’m safer at home. If you were to administer iodine even by error, you can’t give me an epi pen when I go into anaphylaxis. THIS is what I tried to explain in the protocols earlier, to you AND your nurse”
Out of curiosity, I then asked “what if I just went to the civic directly now and have them do the scan? Oh right, you said they wouldn’t see anything anyway right?”
*crickets* ugh.. ugh… well… not necessarily
Like, I’m sorry, but why scare me now? I had been here for an explanation or a severity level of how worried I should be the entire time. To which I was made to question why I was even there and scolded for waking you up. But only when I’m walking out the door, that’s when we get berated about the danger of the situation? Suddenly I’m a ‘stroke patient’? Suddenly everything changes? No. I won’t be roped into this ping pong match. I won’t continue these mind games. I am standing my ground, and I am leaving. I am getting far away, and I will not be made to feel that I AM the one who’s doing something wrong.
Everything about this entire experience was wrong, and the one thing I do have the control over is where I go and when. Right now, I’m going to where I am safe. Home. Within closer proximity to hospitals should I need to go. I will be under the care and supervision of my husband who knows my vitals and cues of when there’s something wrong. I will be safe
As we left the hospital, I again thanked them for their time. I gave grace and understanding that wasn’t deserved, I allowed more room impatience due to the pandemic. I wanted to start and finish by being kind regardless of how I was treated in return. Still, I couldn’t help but leave feeling more confused and scared then when I first came.
That confusion was followed by anger, and outrage. WHY did this happen again?
I’m nice, I’m calm, I’m organized, I provide all of the facts, I am a great advocate, I have logic, I don’t quote google, I awaited every opportunity to be examined and so badly wanted to be given the clear or some type of explanation as to what had happened to me. Instead I was made to feel my symptoms were nothing at first, it was downplayed, dismissed, and then confused even further when suddenly it became a big scary thing. It made no sense
I arrived home, and within 20 minutes, and in the dim light, my pupils became different sizes again. I wondered to myself, why didn’t she do my eye test in different lighting based on what I told her? I was so exhausted at this point, I took another photo, and decided I’m going to sleep.
We made a plan as to what we would do in the event of the ‘what if’s’. My husband stayed up all night doing checks, and we made it to morning.
I was so exhausted yesterday, just mentally exhausted from the whole experience. I slept until 8:30pm last night. I was proud that I stood my ground and left, but couldn’t help but wonder what we would have done had my current condition been more unstable.
This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to us, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. Yesterday my husband spent the morning and afternoon contacting every doctor I have to get their opinion on how to proceed. Who to get help from, etc.
Most of the answers pointed towards neuro. So we arranged an emergency appt with my neuro, and we just spoke on the phone. I explained the situation, he congratulated us for knowing so much. For doing the right things at home, for documenting how the eyes respond in different lights, for being able to tell the story with such a good recount. All of which led him to ordering an MRI of my neck and head right on the phone, focusing on the artery in my neck. (The pinched nerve I felt at first) after discussing, he quickly realized it’s most likely not the eye that was larger that’s the issue, but maybe the eye that is smaller: based on the clues I gave about both eyes constricting while in bright light, but then one going larger in the dim light. He said it’s normal for eyes to go larger, but it’s NOT normal for one to constrict. So the opposite eye may be the issue, the one that stayed small. See?! Doctor/patient team work at its finest.
I wish I had a clear explanation as to what you can do in the event that this happens, but it’s very situational. One major thing I want to make clear:
Never feel pressured to stay somewhere that you are not comfortable.
Never feel you have to do anything you aren’t comfortable doing
Never feel you don’t have the option to get a second opinion
Never feel that you aren’t entitled to leave and seek help elsewhere
If it’s unsafe to leave, but you aren’t comfortable in the care where you are, you can request a medi transfer to another hospital who has the means to treat you.
The reason I’m sharing this is to let you know that it can happen, and you have every right to feel outrage. We have a right to proper care, and not be made to feel as if we’ve done something wrong when seeking medical attention
Emergency situations are a bit more tricky depending on the severity of your condition, but as I said, IF you aren’t feeling heard or safe, but can’t leave that hospital, please reach out to the patient advocacy number for that hospital and get help.
I was fortunate in THIS situation to be able to speak for myself, to have someone I trust with me to validate what happened. To confirm it’s not just ‘in my head’. But if you don’t, share within a patient support group. Anywhere that you can get support and be reassured.
Above all, please don’t let this prevent you from seeking medical attention when needed. I was so hesitant to go to the hospital a couple nights ago, and all of my fears were confirmed despite how prepared I was, despite how kind I was. But I’m not letting that stop me from getting the care that I require to keep me safe and THRIVING.
I have no answers just yet about why my pupils did this, and what’s going on. But I now have leads, we have made progress, and will eventually get answers. Through our own advocacy efforts and reaching out to the patient community with similar conditions, someone was even able to suggest a syndrome that made sense to my neuro. THAT condition is now being investigated, all because of sharing and asking questions. Using technology!
I imagine I’ll have to do a lot of tests that will uncover nothing, some that will eliminate a cause, and eventually one that will uncover it. I however will not stop until I have an answer.
By sharing this, it’s my therapeutic release of letting it go and not giving it power over me. My illness isn’t going away, so I need to be confident and able to speak when I can for myself.
I hope in some small way if something similar has happened to you, you’re reminded that it’s not your fault. You are deserving and worthy of kindness, patience, and answers.
I haven’t shared since, because I needed time to rest and recover. In the interim I was able to get closer to answers and strongly advocate despite having this happen as a big hiccup.
I always say, we are stronger together. Sharing is often beneficial, and can give a voice to something you have experienced and didn’t know how to feel or how to express it to others.
Thank you for reading, for expressing concern, and for your support.
I can call myself an expert by now, I would estimate in my short time on this earth… I’ve had at least 70 scans. Probably more, but I don’t keep count.
All types of scans, CT with contrast, CT without contrast, MRI, PET scans, MIBG, Octreotide, bone density scans, Gallium 68, and that’s not including your average ultrasounds and x rays.
So, I will hold the title of expert level, I might as well get something out of it. I’m going to give you the best tips I have to be prepared. I find the best way to remove the fear, is to know what’s coming. So hopefully by me sharing what to expect, the things we can control, it will eliminate some of the anxiety leading up to it.
Yesterday’s scan was an MRI, not my favourite type of scan. But then again, they all have their woes.
A lot of people ask…
“what is the best type of scan to get for a Pheochromocytoma?” but here’s the thing… it is so specific to your case.
Specific to the timing, is it diagnostic OR prognostic? Is it a follow up after surgery? Is it to see the tumor size or is it to see the tumor activity? Is it to see if you’re eligible for future treatment?
See, there’s no one size fits all answer.
But since this isn’t going to be about all the different types of scans, I will focus on the one I had yesterday: the MRI
I’m normally a CT girl, not because it’s the best, or because it’s easier – quite the opposite. A CT is normally best for diagnostic imaging, it’s less detailed than an MRI, but gets a good overall view of the body. But I’m deathly allergic to iodine, which is the injectable solution used to light up your insides. So when I do a CT, I have to go through an exhausting allergy prep in order to safely get imaging. I can’t help but giggle, having a rare cancer that requires constant imaging but being allergic to the process. Awesome.
Salt in the wound, am I right?
So because earlier this year we discovered the link between my pheo and mast cell disease, making it no longer ‘just an allergy’ but a life threatening anaphylactic condition, we switched to MRI.
Still with me?
MRI also requires an injectable solution, called gadolinium. But the chances of having a reaction to it are very low. I still prep, and I’m cautious, and I still feel the aftermath of it in my body for a couple of days. But nothing life threatening, phew.
An MRI is a more detailed image, so as previously mentioned, for me it makes sense as we already know I have cancer. We’re not looking for it, or diagnosing it, we want to see all the gory details. We want to see detailed imagery if it has metastasized further, if it’s grown or perhaps shrunk, or if it’s magically disappeared? A girl can dream.
Before I go into explaining what an imaging day looks like, and what to expect DURING an MRI… I want to talk about what the before, leading up to it.
In the weeks leading up to my scan, I get a nervous energy that I don’t even realize I have. I get very fixated on certain tasks, I get a bit scattered, foggy, yet I can’t settle down or rest. I feel the need to always be doing something, planning something, or helping someone else. It’s my way of not focusing on what is about to happen.
In the days leading up to my scan, I allow myself to realize the impact of what’s about to come. What this scan will mean to my future. My brain tries and tries to acknowledge both outcomes, but I don’t allow that.
I refocus my mindset to the impact of hearing the good news, I only focus on the good news. This may seem like blind hope, but to me, why focus on the things we can’t change?
Until there IS a problem, why create one?
I used to always go in with the attitude of expecting the worse but hoping for the best. It was a way of protecting myself and not having my world shattered if I heard bad news, and let’s be real… I heard a lot of bad news. So it became a routine, I’d go in, do my scan, and deep down knee what was to come.
Only in the last few months did that start to change, my life has changed. Well, my quality of life I should say.
Feeling hope to this magnitude, it’s a tricky thing. As previously mentioned, hope can be the hardest thing to have. In fear of it being ripped away, which has happened to me quite a few times.
But I can’t live a life expecting misery and feel no hope and dream no dreams, because that wouldn’t be a very nice existence. So I reframe my mindset to feeling hopeful, manifesting healing, dreaming of what’s to come, and praying for another miracle.
I figure, no matter what the outcome, I will deal with that when the time comes. I can’t control the outcome, but I can control my feelings leading up to it. A-ha! See?
With cancer, or any chronic illness really, we often feel so helpless. Not in control of our own bodies, our minds, our future. So I like to be in control of anything I can. In my mission statement I wrote ‘holding onto my fabulous is the one thing I can control’ and that’s still true.
Except I realized my ‘fabulous’ is much more than just lipstick or hair. It’s who I am, it’s everything that makes me, me!…
So if I had one piece of advice to those of you who are experiencing scanxiety – it’s to acknowledge the possibility of both outcomes, but put your focus on the one you want. It’s okay to quickly consider the alternative, but don’t allow it consume you. Ask for prayer, ask for love, good energy, ask for support. Do what you need to do to feel hopeful.
Set your intention on the good, and in the days leading up to your scan… live your life as normal. Go about your day, clean your house, exercise, bake, talk to your friends and family, make homemade pizzas with your kids, shop till you drop. Do whatever makes you feel good, and most of all, normal.
I can’t tell you just how many sugar free cookies I baked, and how many celebratory outfits I ordered. Yes, celebratory. BecauseI fully intend to be celebrating the outcome. That’s the intention I set, and every day leading up to the scan, I meditated about it, I sang about it, I cried about it.
And now I’m writing about it. I’m putting it out into the universe
When I began writing this blog today, I wanted to explain the process of an MRI to take a bit of the unknown out of it for others. But I’m happy it turned into something different, because I love sharing my heart with you. Let’s be real, we don’t come to pheovsfabulous for the science 😉😂
Let’s walk through what the day looks like, and some practical tips to prepare!
Confidence comes from being prepared
First step, we drive 3 hours to get imaging, so you’re going to want to be comfortable. I said comfortable, not boring. There’s nothing boring about us, we need to feel cute! Look good feel good, am I right? Ladies AND gents!
1. Choose your outfit, and make it a good one. Something that makes you feel like you can take on anything. An outfit that makes you feel POWER, and confident!
2. Prepare your hospital bag, yes, you need this! Even if your hospital is close by, you need to have certain essentials to get you through the day. Since my hospital is out of town, I always bring a small bag of toiletries just INCASE anything unexpected were to happen.
Medications, maybe a book, a good luck charm, lipgloss, you know, the essentials. I always bring my fighting pretty gloves for strength, and a stuffed animal for comfort. This time, I brought gallium. He’s my scanner buddy. More importantly, your medical resume. This is your road map for emergency protocols, allergies, history. I show you how to create that here. If ever you were to have a reaction or go into crisis and couldn’t speak, this is going to be their guide.
3. Create a playlist that pumps you up, gives you happy vibes, and passes the time. You can even listen to an encouraging podcast or whatever you’re into.
4. Prep food and drinks for your trip, takeout is hard when you’re following a low tyramine/histamine diet and allergic to nuts. This is a fasting MRI, so you’re going to be hangry. I suggest bringing at least protein bar to devour the moment you’re done the scan. We bring a small cooler and prepare for the day. We didn’t used to do this and since we have, it’s made such a difference.
5. Pillows, blanket, neck pillow. Anything that’s going to make your road smoother. If you experience chronic pain, sitting in the car for long periods can be tough. I always have a neck pillow in the car as a minimum.
6. Bring slippers! You will have to completely strip down and get into that sexy blue gown, and you don’t want to have to shuffle around in the hospital paper booties too. So bring a pair of slippers to walk around in until your scan.
7. If you wear a wig, you will have to remove it during the scan. (Magnets) I like to bring a bandana or some sort of head covering to be comfortable before and during the imaging. I sometimes sweat quite a bit in reaction to the loud noises and vibrations, and I don’t like coming out with my hair drenched. So I cover my natural hair with a bandana and it helps absorb some of the perspiration.
8. Speaking of noises and vibrations, this is something that bothers quite a few of us. You may want to speak to your doctor about taking something to relieve the anxiety or claustrophobia. Just make sure you’re able to stay awake, as there’s work to do in there!
So now that we’re fully prepared, what should we expect for the MRI?
You will check in, wait a little in the waiting room, I was allowed to be accompanied by my husband as he is my caregiver. With my conditions, I can need life saving care at any time. I can’t go wandering around alone. If your condition requires special attention or sudden medication, tell them this at the door so that your caregiver can be present up until the actual scan.
“Miranda?” Your name will be called, and you will be escorted into the injection area. The hospital I went to was lovely and had a private bed to wait in. I appreciate these details with being in so much pain and fighting to keep my eyes open.
The gadolinium injection won’t take place until during the scan, so you’ll need an IV placed. (Hydrate a lot before!) so that your veins will be ready.
The technician will insert the IV, and you will be asked to wait a bit until your turn to be scanned.
You will again be escorted into another room, this time where the MRI scanner lives.
The MRI is a big white tube, and yes, you’re going in head first. This is why I like to know what to expect, it makes you less nervous when prepared. You will lay on the hard narrow table, there will be a blanket underneath, and if they don’t have a leg wedge set up, ask for one! Thank me later. You will want that elevation to take pressure off your back, the scan will most likely last at least 20 mins, mine was about 30.
They will place a large plastic contraption over the area that’s being scanned, for me, that was my abdomen. This device will be what captures the images, and they will gently secure you to the table with some straps so you don’t have to be worried about positioning.
Before sending you into the MRI, they will place some headphones on you. This will allow the technician to speak to you throughout the test, and you will also hear a voice prompt you when to breathe and when to hold your breath.
My technician was super kind and explained to me to listen to the voice as soon as she says to breathe in, GO. Don’t wait until the instructions are finished, this was really helpful to me so that we didn’t have to repeat the photos.
**Super important tip**
For me, I don’t want to feel like I’m in a tube. So I close my eyes before I go in. I never ever open them, that way I won’t panic. Everyone is different with this, my husband likes to keep his eyes open and then close when he’s ready. It depends if you’re claustrophobic.
Everyone will leave the room, and you will move into the machine. You will begin to hear the prompts almost right away, “take a deep breath in, now hold your breath” and you will have to hold for about 30 seconds. (I counted)
How do you stay calm during the scan
I practice guided meditations every day, and I learned breath work to calm my nervous system periodically throughout the day. This can all be done through YouTube, type ‘guided meditation’ and you will see a whole bunch of meditation types. Ranging from stress relief, sleep aids, ptsd healing, etc. Doing this on a daily basis allows me to stay calm during ongoing stressful circumstances. During the scan your mind will be used to travelling to your happy place, while still listening to the breathing instructions.
About half way through the scan, the gadolinium will be injected electronically into your IV. Like any contrast, you will feel the ‘warm feeling’. AKA you will feel like you just peed yourself. It’s not AS aggressive as the iodine contrast during CT, but you do feel it. This is normal, don’t panic! You didn’t pee! I promise.
The hard part is over, kind of. You will be guided back into the injection room to have your IV removed, and you can be on your way. Go take care of your hanger, eat that protein bar, and drink LOTS of water to flush your kidneys of the dye. And I mean lots! You’ll feel better quicker.
Although the physical part is over… now the mental part is going to take its toll. Leading up to the scan, all that nervous energy you experienced, it’s going to be the opposite now.
You will most likely be drained, exhausted, mentally and physically. It’s time to rest and recover. I slept a few hours the moment I got home, and I’ll be honest – experienced a lot of pain. Have your heating pad ready, and whatever you do to control your pain levels. As I’m writing this I’m still pretty stiff. For me, the noise and vibrations of the machine makes my body tense up. Leaving me feeling like I did an extreme an workout when the whole day is done.
Speaking only from my personal experience, once the scan is done, I feel too drained to worry about the results. I did enough of that leading up to it, now it’s time to just be and let be.
Worrying will not change the results, but it will make you feel like crap. As we all know, stress is the worst thing for our bodies with this disease.
So now it’s time to rest, and do something that really brings you peace. For me, it’s doing exactly this. Writing.
This is my therapy, helping others by sharing my experience.
ˈkansər/ – disease; causing the body and mind to adapt, overcome, and embrace change.
Quality of Life:
What do these three seemingly simple words mean to you?
Someone who is living with a permanent illness which will impact their ‘quality of life’ will hear this phrase from time to time. For someone like me, who is considered a ‘palliative care patient’ (which is a polite way of saying my disease will eventually kill me) this term gets thrown around a lot. But do we ever stop to think about what it truly means? Being 30 and terminally ill, I have to think about often.
I used to just see it as a phrase. I actually used to see many things as just phrases, words put together to fill silences in sterile rooms to allow for some sort of relief from the inevitable uncomfortable points of cancer. That is, until you live them and you are intimate with each word. You get to know what each one will mean to you; you get to appreciate what kind of quality you’d like to live, and start to live it. I am going to share my perception of these words, and hopefully they will not just be words to you either.
Before I do that, let me introduce myself. My name is Miranda, I’m a 30 year old with a rare form of terminal cancer called pheochromocytoma. I’ve been living with this disease in some way or another since I was about 17-18, and officially diagnosed at 19. After my initial surgery to remove a large ‘benign’ tumor, I was misdiagnosed with anxiety for 4 years, which led to my eventual terminal cancer diagnosis.
I vowed two things in that moment: one being that I would do everything in my power to prevent this from happening to someone else by sharing my story and learning how to advocate further for rare diseases. I didn’t realize where this vow would take me, eventually filling a large gap for a rare disease that should have never had the opportunity to be terminal. And two, I vowed that cancer would never take my FABULOUS.
I wrote this mission statement when I first started my blog:
“Pheo VS Fabulous was born from the promise that I would never let this disease take away the one thing I could control, and I’ve labeled that my fabulous. When I became ill I realized how much we take for granted, and it started with how day to day tasks are so challenging when you’re battling an illness like pheochromocytoma cancer, that’s when I decided I wouldn’t let it take that away from me. It’s more than just looking a certain way, it’s about BEING fabulous, strong, and positive when you have every reason not to be”
You’re probably wondering, WHAT IS pheochromocytoma? I’ll try to keep it as simple as possible. It’s essentially a tumor or tumor(s) that secrete or produce adrenaline. Adrenaline and noradrenaline are hormones that we actually need to function as the trigger for your body’s ‘fight or flight’ response. These hormones prompt higher blood pressure, a faster heart rate and a boost in other body systems that allow you to react quickly with a burst of energy. *Think, lion attack!* A pheochromocytoma ultimately makes you overdose at any given time on these hormones, without warning, which we pheo people like to call ‘attacks’. Think: lion attack… with no lion? Essentially your tumor is attacking you with your own stinkin’ adrenaline! This causes your body to suddenly react with high blood pressure, increased heart rate and palpitations, and a whole lot of other deadly symptoms. I say deadly because if uncontrolled or untreated, these attacks are life threatening. So not only do I have cancer, but I have a cancer that tries to kill me multiple times a day with it’s poison IN my body. Fun, right? I also don’t just have one, I have metastatic disease and have anywhere from 30+ at any given time. (This is reduced greatly!)
Being so young and considered terminal, I’ve had to learn a lot about the phrase, ‘quality of life’. It’s meant to bring a sense of comfort, a sign that no matter what the cancer is going to take from you, we are going to do our best to keep you comfortable while all of these changes take place, and most importantly, just keep you who you are.
We cannot simply continue to live our pre-cancer, ‘normal lives’…right? Well, I kinda thought I could. I think we all do in some respects, and that’s normal. The difficulty is realizing where you need to adjust your expectations. I didn’t say give up there, did I? Time to ADAPT.
So here comes the hard part, once YOU start to change, no one but you can prepare you for this. The next time you hear “You’re so strong!”, don’t shy away from it. Think about what it means to them, what it means to you, and how you have truly earned it. So, you start changing, and this ‘quality of life’ thing everyone keeps talking about, seems like a very far away ideal at this point.
“How am I supposed to have any sort of Quality of Life when this disease is doing nothing but take take take?”
“I don’t even have a LIFE anymore, how am I supposed to have a ‘quality’ one?”
“Everything I am doing is supposed to ‘provide me with better quality of life’, but after every procedure I’m left feeling worse and can do less.”
“How am I not supposed to lose hope?”
My disease moves quickly, sometimes it seems like I can blink and not recognize myself physically, or suddenly go from walking around seemingly ‘normal’ to being completely bed ridden for months and needing a wheelchair the rest of the time. THAT was the most surprising, and still is… the uncertainty and element of surprise.
Did I tell you how wonderful it feels to simply be a little more kind to yourself?
Change is constant, and I need to be willing to accept that although my life is very different, it’s mine. The fact that I wake up every day is a beautiful thing. Understanding that even the smallest victories are worth celebrating, simple joys are to be found and appreciated every day, because these ‘small’ and ‘simple’ things… probably mean the world to you. I now go through life dreaming that everyone could see it through my eyes. Living with cancer has shown me what a gift life is, the complexity of it all becomes so simple.
Throughout most of my story, I’ve chosen to share personal aspects of my life to help others come to the same realizations and places I have, but hopefully avoid a lot of suffering along the way. I’ve experienced surgeries, clinical trials, treatment after treatment, finding the “best” doctors. I’ve been labelled palliative at 25 years old old, terminal, metastatic, aggressive, all the things you don’t want to hear. I’ve been confined to a bed, a wheelchair, and at times lost my sense of independence. I lost my voice, my ability to share, and my hope. I never thought I’d get through it.
But we did. Because cancer makes you ADAPT and OVERCOME.
I say ‘we’ because my husband goes through all of this with me, from the very beginning. Since my first diagnosis, he’s been by my side. He’s my voice when I don’t have one, and he’s my biggest supporter when I do. He is my caregiver, my everything. And our loved ones go through this journey just as much as we do.
I want to share with you a glimpse of what my life looked like a few years ago, when I thought I only had a year to live, what led me HERE today.
When they first introduced the idea to set up a bed in my living room to improve my quality of life, I thought, “now!? I’m only 25 years old, I’m not putting a hospital bed in my living room, that will never go with my decor!” (priorities, jeeze…).
Remember those simple joys? Small victories? Well THIS was the greatest joy, a godsend, a MASSIVE victory! I could see out a window, have LIFE fluttering around me, I can see my husband cooking in the kitchen, I can see my dogs run around the house, I could go and choose a very pink blanket for my new bed (ha!). I can actually walk to the kitchen and serve myself a drink or snack when I’m feeling well, I can drift off to sleep right in front of my fireplace.
That’s what quality of life is. Those aren’t just words, This is MYlife.
You too will be able to adapt to your new changing situation, overcome your new challenges, and embrace the changes as they come. You just have to remember… your new life is exactly that, a new life. You must explore the beauty it has to show, the joy it has to give, and the blessings it has to offer. Just remember, there’s no right or wrong when it comes to your life. As long as you’re the one who’s smiling at the beginning and end of it!
The most incredible part of this story? I’m 30 now, and after going through all of that, supposedly having a year to live, I’m still here sharing, thriving, and learning more every day.
I’m no longer confined to a bed, I no longer live in constant fear, I have accepted that I’m living with cancer. THRIVING with terminal cancer. I have continued to adapt and overcome and change my circumstances through hard work and advocacy. My quality of life now is a direct result of the information and research we have put into figuring out how to improve my treatments and symptom management, always taking the chance, and fighting so so so pretty.
I have learned how to forgive but not forget in order to continue to help others with this cancer, help them not only live but hopefully thrive. The best part? I never once lost my fabulous.
Fabulous is your light, your smile, your energy, your positivity, your willfulness, your vitality, passion, excitement, beauty, laugh, and how you share it! I can’t wait to share it with all of you, and hopefully have you share with me. I’m so grateful to be part of an incredible community of fierce thrivers. I look forward to seeing YOUR light, smile, and beauty! 🤍🙏🏼
Five years ago it took getting diagnosed with cancer to make me wake up and see things for what they really were.
The uncertainty you’re feeling right now? I felt that everyday. I still feel it, but I’ve learned to adapt to it. I’ve learned to live amongst it.
This is your wake up call.
The feelings you have right now, they’re valid. The fear, the anxiety, the grief, it’s all real. But what will you do with it? Let it overcome you and wither away? Or learn to adapt and thrive in these uncertain times.
We will all eventually face a time in our lives where everything is turned upside down, we no longer know where we fit, what will happen, and how to deal with it. Let this be the time that you figure out how. Let this be the time where you figure out how to just “be”.
Five years ago I was abruptly forced to turn my life upside down. I was forced to give up the life I was used to living, I was forced to grieve the old me.
I had to make fast and hard changes, I had to give up working suddenly. I had to apply for long term disability, give up my day to day schedule, and become isolated from the world without a choice in the matter.
I know how you feel, being told you can’t work, having to apply for EI, not knowing when you can resume your normal day to day.
Social distancing didn’t have a term then, it just happened naturally. This was my new life, my new reality.
Yes, I’m trying to give you a wake up call. But in the most respectful, understanding, and empathic way. I get you, I feel you, I understand so much of what you’re going through. I want to help you navigate through the uncertainty you’re feeling. Not judge you for how you feel.
That feeling of helplessness because you don’t know what’s in store for your future? The feeling of impending doom that you cant shake? It’s normal. I felt that way too. I too have had to cancel my future, I too have sat lost and scared about what’s to come. I too have felt out of control about the unknown that lies ahead.
So what can we do to conquer it? You’re sitting at home, pacing back and fourth, scrolling through your social media, unable to control the panic.
Let me ask you this, when you had your “life in order” and things were “normal”, what were the things you longed to do? How many times did you wish you could just shut the world out and connect with yourself? Let this be the time you ask yourself who you really are.
Let this be the time that you appreciate the monotony of your days.
Let this be the time that you tell your loved ones how you feel about them, and reach out to the people who you haven’t told in some time.
Let this be the time you just slow down the pace, take a breath, enjoy.
Don’t let fear and panic take over your life, but be respectful and aware of what’s happening around you.
This IS life changing, this IS scary, but it can also be therapeutic and life changing in a positive way.
We need to learn how to see joy and embrace our circumstances.
What have I done in the last few years during self isolation?
The time you’ve wanted to spend with your loved ones? Soak it up!
The book you’ve wanted to read? Read it.
The nextflix series you didn’t have time to watch? Watch it.
The novel you’ve always wanted to write? Write it.
The naps you’ve longed to take when you were exhausted? Sleep your heart out!
That exercise regimen you always want to start? Do it now.
The FaceTime calls you’ve put off cause you were too busy? Start calling up your distant friends.
The sunrise and sunsets you always missed? Enjoy them.
The complicated meals you never had the time or energy to cook? Start cooking!
The trail you always drive by and always say “I wanna go walk there sometime soon”, go explore!
The bath salts you always buy and never have time to use? Go soak!
Meditate, meditate, meditate! Learn how to calm your mind. It won’t just help you during this time, it will help you when all of this is over.
Learn how to face fearful situations and not succumb to that fear. Learn to be your best self, the person you never even knew you wanted to be.
Explore who you are, get to know “who I am” again.
After all… you have nothing but time.
Something that not all of us have the luxury of saying. Time is something that some of us want so badly, and yearn for more of every single minute of every single day. Use your time wisely, because one day… all of that “extra time” you’re complaining about having, could be gone.
And last but not least… just be thankful. Thankful for your health, the time you have, the friends who love you, the family who you love, your freedom. Be thankful for those who are sacrificing every day for you to have these things.
You will be sitting at home, pacing back and fourth, scrolling through your social media, but the difference? You will be able to conquer the fear of uncertainty, you will know how to deal with it head on, because you will know exactly who you are and what you wanted out of life, and you won’t let anything or anyone take THAT away from you.
Doesn’t mean I’m terminally ill, confused? I was too.
I still might be, but I think it’s time someone explained what it is to have a terminal rare disease.
With rare disease day approaching, I’d like to do my part in educating about this rare terminal illness I LIVE with everyday.
When I received my grim diagnosis of metastatic pheochromocytoma, it followed with “you have 1-5 years to live”. I was sentenced to death, and given a time frame to live my life. It’s haunted me ever since. It’s shaped how I perceive my world and how I went about living in it.
It didn’t have to be this way…
Delivering a diagnosis should be one of the most sensitive topics there ever is in a career. It should explain the illness you’re facing, and explain how to live with it.
Just because I’m terminally ill doesn’t mean I have to die…
It can take years upon years to die, a terminal illness means you will EVENTUALLY die of that illness, but no one should be signing your death certificate.
Just because I’m terminally ill doesn’t change the standard of care, I want to live. I deserve every treatment, every intervention, every respect that someone else with a chronic condition or just a condition gets.
I’m still living, and should be treated that way.
Just because I’m terminally ill, shouldn’t mean I’m given palliative care to help me die.
It means I should be given palliative care options to help me live, to extend my life, to improve my quality of life.
Just because I’m terminally ill, doesn’t mean I don’t have a beautiful life ahead of me.
It just looks and feels different than yours, but it’s still worth living.
When I was given my grim diagnosis, it’s all I could think about. Everyday, dying. My time was ticking. My rights were being taken away as a normal patient.
Just because I’m terminally ill, doesn’t mean I should sign a DNR to get treatment
Yes, this is illegal. But it didn’t stop the hospitals around me from withdrawing treatment, and making me too scared to call an ambulance when in an emergency because I thought they’d kill me.
Just because I’m terminally ill, shouldn’t mean I had to move three hours away to be close to a hospital who gets this.
It’s so important to have proper, quality, care. Doctors who understand what a terminal illness is, that are willing and excited to treat your rare disease with the respect it deserves. Ready to give you the respect you deserve.
Just because I’m terminally ill doesn’t mean I should have no dignity…
When I was “dying”, I lost my dignity last. I held onto it for quite some time, but eventually it went away. It was the hardest thing to lose, it shouldn’t have happened, but it did. It didn’t have to be this way.
I don’t consider myself dying anymore, I consider myself someone who’s living with a terminal illness.
I consider myself someone who will eventually succumb to this disease, but not for a very long time.
I consider myself someone who’s fought hard and long enough to share this information with you all.
I consider myself someone who can help change the way terminal illness is perceived.
If you receive that grim diagnosis, please, please, don’t give up. There ARE treatments that work.
There IS a way to be stable.
Quality of life CAN be different.
You need support, in all forms, you need palliative care, (proper care), you need a team of doctors who listen and respect you. Most of all.. you need hope. That’s what this gives you, your hope to hold onto and never let go.
I’m no stranger to treatments and procedures, that’s the understatement of the century! However, getting something done because I WANT IT done, that’s a new concept as of late.
When you’re sick, your body becomes sort of …everyone’s. It doesn’t feel like your own anymore, a product of the medical field.
Well I’m taking my body back, and I’m loving it.
Pheo VS Fabulous was built around the statement of staying fabulous throughout it all, never losing my joy. Well I think I’ve taken that in stride, but it gets difficult. It’s about time I can take back some of my fab. So I’m doing that in every way possible. Physically and mentally.
Have you ever heard the expression, “I woke up like this”?
When you have an illness, it takes a toll on you. It takes a huge mental toll, and that turns into a physical toll. We often just stop doing things for ourselves because everything is so damn hard. We do things out of convenience a lot, and stop doing things because they’re enjoyable and we WANT to.
This may sound crazy, but any time I go into see the doctor, or am surprised by the fact that I have to go in an ambulance, I always think first … “how do I look?” I HATE looking sick. I feel like the moment my illness takes over my physical appearance, it’s won. I’ve lost that one part I can control.
When I was SUPER sick, (bedridden) I did EVERYTHING possible to stay me. My hospital table was a makeup table, my slippers were cute, my pjs were always matching, I got my husband to do my hair. It was just important that I didn’t lose myself completely.
Now that I’m feeling better… I wanted to treat myself to a few things that could make this job a little easier in those times. When I’m too sick to do anything at all, but I still wanna wake up looking absolutely fabulous!
Operation lashes and brows commence!
I know I know, I’ll be the first one to admit… I’m a bit extra! 😂 I’m okay with that. Not everyone is going to feel the same way as me about these things, but I guarantee you you’d enjoy them just as much!
So first, I started with something practical. My eyebrows. The defining feature of the face. I was always extremely intimidated by eyebrow procedures because … let’s be honest, someone semi permanently changing the look of your face? Scary! That’s why you have to do your homework, and know what you want. I’d heard of microblading, a procedure where they take a hand tool and semi permanently tattoo your eyebrows in a natural way to give you the illusion of perfect brows at all times. However, it wasn’t until I’d discovered dolly lash lounge, and started researching other ways of achieving this apparent greatness, that I’d heard of ombré brows.
I would spend so much time filling in my brows with makeup, pomades, powders, gels, anything to make my brows look and feel great. Even if I didn’t do anything else to my face, I always did my brows. It was just a thing I had to do. It takes time though, and a lot of different products to achieve that perfect look. What we millennials would call the “Instagram” brow. Ha!
Ombré shading is a procedure using a machine vs by hand, and it’s semi permanent up to a year or more. It gives you the illusion that you’ve masterfully filled in your brows to perfection, except it’s always done! It looks extremely natural, depending on how dramatic you go, and it’s amazing to wake up to all the time.
Appointment time: 2-2 1/2hours
Once you’re done with the consultation, filling out the necessary medical forms, and having the actual procedure done.
I found it fairly painless, but again… this goes back to having done my research and making sure I went to a QUALITY place! I scoured their pictures on social media, read their website up and down, and looked for reviews to make sure I was getting the best of the best.
You lay down on a comfy bed, your lash/brow technician preps the area with numbing cream, (be sure to check what they use and be conscious of any allergies)! and then they start mapping out your new brows! My eyebrows were extremely sparse and uneven, so there was a lot of work to be done. When she first showed me what they were GOING to look like, I wanted to cry. I was so happy! So we went to work, and 2 hours later…. perfect brows 👌🏼
Just a side note, Katie was extremely gentle, professional, we talked so much glam, and I had the best time ever. It helps to be comfortable with the person you’re doing it with, so keep that in mind when you’re booking with a salon!
This is the first time I had to lay down for hours on end and actually have a fun result at the end instead of just a scan that showed my tumors, so I was pretty ecstatic!
Here is the first result:
So this was my first session, you can see I am red because of the procedure but they healed perfect and I love them so much! (I’m also extremely sensitive so this is normal) Your eyebrows will initially go a bit darker with oxidization, but that goes away after one week and they heal to the color your specialist custom makes for you. You have to go in once more after this a few weeks later for a touch up, it allows you to make any changes or go a bit more dramatic if you feel the need!
Mine is coming up soon, but I love my brows even as they are now. I’ll do a bit of work touching them up to darken them a bit, but other than that .. love!
Now, I’m a person that actually enjoys wearing false lashes in my spare time. Haha! But it’s so much work and money. Doing false lashes when you can barely sit to do your makeup in the first place… it’s a bit much.
So when I heard I could have lashes that were voluminous and beautiful ALL the time, I had to have this. Never glueing on a falsie again? Sold.
I’m sure you’ve heard of this, there’s all different sorts of eyelash extensions you can get. “Natural, hybrid, volume, super volume”
Well I wanted EXTRA volume. Go big or go home!
I went back to my technician and told her I wanted to be ultra glam, all the time. Hit me up with the biggest lashes you’ve got!
This is the first time I’ve been able to feel well enough to partake in these adventures, so I might as well go all out! ☺️
(And looking like I’ve done a face of makeup without actually lifting a finger… yeah, tempting!!!)
So I took the plunge.
Appointment time: 2 hours
Each lash is masterfully added to your own ONE BY ONE, by hand. It’s actually pretty crazy when you think about it. I’ve never seen such patience and precision. Of course, there are differences everywhere you go, but this was my experience.
I was pretty tired by the end of it, but it was worth it. Katie was also excellent at allowing me to have a break if I needed it, and overall I just felt super comfortable.
This is the end result! Again, my eyes are a bit red because of having them closed for so long so you tear up a bit, but I assure you they’re fab fab fab! Perfection.
I will link the website of where I got mine done, www.dollylashlounge.com so you can read yourself through the procedures and services list. I thought it would be more fun to hear it from me 😂
I told you guys I’d bring you along on my journey, and this is part of it.
Right now I’m all about taking back my fab. Thank you dolly lash for helping me do that.
And thank YOU GUYS for following along with all my crazy but fun ideas! I hope I’ve inspired you to do something fun and kind for yourself, because let’s face it… we all need a bit of love now and again. Why not let it be from you? #selflove
Support comes in all forms when you receive a diagnosis, but as you become sicker and the “old you” starts fading away, so do your relationships.
So many people want to be there for you when you first receive your diagnosis, but as you become sicker, when it all becomes real, it seems you start losing people one by one. There’s nothing worse than having to grieve your old self, plus have to mourn each relationship lost as you go.
One day you wake up, and all of a sudden you feel like you have no one left.
‘Hanging out’ and visits turn into text messages, the text messages turn into the occasional Facebook chat, and then even those just stop abruptly. Until there’s no more communication. Everyone just went away...
You can’t help but blame yourself,
if I wasn’t this sick, I’d still have friends.
If I was healthy and could have a normal conversation about monotonous things, I wouldn’t push people away.
If only I could be healthy and not intimidate people who are unsure how to approach this new “sick” me.
If only I wasn’t intimidated by them thinking about me being sick, and could fill in the awkward silences.
…If only I could erase all the sad eyes, the weakened expressions, and not have people who once respected me feel sorry for me.
This is the worst part, the pity.
If only these people knew that I’m the exact same person, the same person who was their friend for all those years. The same family member, the very same.
People change regardless of being ill, but it seems being ill puts a wedge in between the healthy and the sick. The unknown is often just too much. If I changed because I became an asshole I’d understand, but I’m the very same person.
This is the first time I’ve ever expressed how much it hurts.
How at my sickest I’ve never been so alone.
When someone says, “you must have a lot of people around you!” And you just don’t know how to respond.
How I don’t want to come off as ungrateful or selfish because there are some amazing people who have come into my life despite me being sick.
But those relationships lost still weigh heavily on my heart, and I wish I could have every single one back. Back to normal.
But I’ll never be normal.
So it shall remain…
What I will say is I’ve learned a few things while these relationships have come and gone.
It’s not your fault, even though it may feel like it is, stop blaming yourself.
Often people want to be there, they just don’t know how.
It’s exhausting trying to make others feel comfortable around you, focus on yourself being comfortable and the rest will follow.
It’s not your job to put everyone else at ease, if they are your friend, they will try to find a way to understand your new situation.
People who are truly your friend, WANT to know how you are. They don’t want the sugar coated answer, be honest with your friends.
Your best friends don’t mind changing plans, or understand when you can’t make it because you’re not feeling up to it suddenly.
Your best friends will make an effort to make YOU comfortable in this new changing circumstance, they’ll go out of their way to make sure you have a place to lay down in their home if you get tired, or have a fan handy for when you get too warm etc.
The people you lost were probably not meant to be close to you in the first place.
Don’t feel bad for making the decision to cut out toxic relationships, even though you might feel like you can’t afford to lose anyone else, it’s not worth putting yourself through hell to have “friends”.
Don’t take for granted the people who did stay around, know that they love you so much, and cherish them every day.
Five years ago I was told I had 1-5 years to live. I sat in a white office with the same diabetes posters and bland medical facts I had looked at several times, and contemplated how angry I was. Angry because had I not been so ‘rare’, something might be different. Perhaps someone might have listened to me, instead of blaming my symptoms on anxiety. This was the worst day of my life.
If someone had just listened to me while I complained of symptoms for years, I would not be sitting here listening to how I had 18 tumors that metastasized all over my organs, and were now killing me at an aggressive rate.
I left the office that day SO angry, but that anger turned into determination. The fiercest determination I could have ever felt, I was not going to die because I wasn’t heard.
I would be heard.
For the last five years, I’ve been heard. I may have suffered along the way, I may have had to do every form of treatment possible, but I’ve been heard.
Not accepting my fate was one of the best decisions I could have made, even after countless disappointments and setbacks, despite being told again and again mountains of bad news, I didn’t give up.
We didn’t give up.
I have news …
Today I sat in a white office, waiting to see my oncologist to hear an update of my cancer progression. For the first time in the last five years, I held onto the hope I felt countless times, and waited for news.
It’s always bad news …
Not this time.
Today, for the first time since my diagnosis, I was told I was stable.
There’s no cure for the cancer I have, not at this stage. I was given palliative care, and supposed to await death. I was sent away to die at 24 years old.
I didn’t accept that, I fought. Hard.
Now I’m stable!!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?
Stable means that for now I don’t have to continue treatment, I can take a break. Stable means I don’t have to go do any more scans for 6 whole months, 6 months! Stable means I can be in less pain, it means less attacks.
It means hope...
I’m writing this with tears in my eyes, because when I started this journey I just wanted to make a difference in as many peoples lives possible. To prevent suffering like mine. Today I feel that I can finally GIVE hope, the hope I’ve been clinging to so hard for the last few years.
Many of you have followed my journey from the beginning, clinging onto that hope just as hard. I’m finally able to tell you that I have good news, and it feels incredible.
If you’re reading this and you’re going through treatment, if you’re in pain, if you’re suffering, if you’ve just received your diagnosis, wherever you are in your journey… just know that I’ve been there.
Now I’m here.
It’s an amazing thing.
My life will never be normal, and I’m certainly not cured, but this is the first time I can say that I’m able to breathe a little. I don’t have to plan my life around what treatment is next, wondering if it will work, or what side effects it will have. I can just live. For now, I can breathe again.
If you’d like to see more of my journey, and learn about what treatments I’ve done… take a look around my blog. My most recent treatment plan was PRRT, although scary, it definitely made a difference in my condition.
Not giving up saved my life, being heard by the best of doctors for this condition… changed everything.
Never, ever, give up.
Hope is the hardest thing to have, but it’s worth it.
Five years ago, October 10th, I was told I had 1-5 years to live.
I remember sitting there, so full of hate and anger. Thinking to myself, “if they had just listened to me, I wouldn’t be here”
It took me a long time to push past this, and focus on what’s important. Living
We often forget when we’re fighting for our lives, that we have to still live our lives. What are we fighting for? To live. But each day that passes and we forget that, we are missing the opportunity to just enjoy and embrace the moments we are given.
I’ll never forget anymore, what I’m fighting for.
I beat the odds, I am a miracle.
It’s so hard to think about the fact that someone gave me a death sentence, but now all I can see is how I’m so full of hope, more than I’ve ever been.
I’ve learned so much throughout this journey, but what I take away from it the most is…. you HAVE to fight.
Fight with every piece of your heart, your soul, your mind, your body, it takes every part of you to fight this. It can be done, and it can be won. Despite being told you’re living with an incurable illness, and some day you will die, there’s still so many days we are fighting for and can live such a beautiful life if you allow it.
I didn’t get here by rolling over, I have done EVERY possible treatment, clinical trial, diet, physio, I have been challenged so much mentally and physically. I have been poked and prodded, had my dignity ripped away, but I’m here and I’m so happy to say that I’m alive.
Although I have no actual news to report as far as a medical update, (that will come soon)… somehow I just KNOW I’m doing better. My hope reaches so far that I just know how I feel, and that feeling is pretty damn good. Once I get my results, hopefully we will be able to back up that feeling with some actual numbers and a better outcome.
I didn’t get this way by any means of an easy journey, no. I did a surgery that was more like scraping out the innards of a pumpkin, (me being the pumpkin). I did an experimental radiotherapy, called Mibg. I then plunged into another even more experimental therapy called PRRT, I have flirted with chemo, lost most of my hair, been treated palliatively. Adjusted my meds more times than I can count, started new meds, gotten off all my meds. Nearly died a thousand times.
But I’m here to tell you about it, and that’s enough for me. It has to be enough. I’ve made strides I never thought I’d ever be able to make again, like walking again instead of being bound to my wheelchair.
We have to take these small victories and celebrate them!
I’m here to deliver a message of hope, that there is a way of fighting an incurable illness. That in our own way… we can win.