Stef Woods

Take that!

A year ago this week, I found a lump in my right breast, as I was trying on clothes for the Fashion For Paws runway show to benefit the Washington Humane Society. That same weekend, I noticed that my very shy rescue dog, Flake, began sleeping as close as she could to my right side. A year ago this week, I also decided to hold off on submitting the initial paperwork to start the adoption process because I had a feeling.

My intuition and my dog’s sense of smell turned out to be correct, and I was diagnosed with breast cancer on June 22, 2010. (I later read articles about medical studies regarding dogs’ ability to sense the presence of breast cancer with 88% accuracy.)

Since finishing chemotherapy and radiation a month ago, I’ve been fielding a lot of comments like:

Wow! Your hair is growing! You must be feeling better!

You’re done with treatment! So, everything’s good now, right?

Unfortunately, though, being cancer-free hasn’t felt freeing. Yes, I’m done with treatment, but I’m still not feeling well. The low blood counts, muscle weakness, exhaustion, and forgetfulness continue. I dyed my buzz cut back to red in the hopes that I would feel more like myself, but that didn’t do the trick. I want my long hair back, and I want my body to look like it did before all the steroids. I realize that everything is a process, but patience has never been one of my virtues.

Something happened over this weekend, though, at this year’s Fashion For Paws. I was finally able to let go of the bitterness and sadness that I’d been feeling over the fact that I haven’t rebounded as quickly as I – or the doctors – would have liked.

I let it all go with the toss of a wig.

“The toss of a wig? What does that mean?” you might be wondering.

Well, when I found out that I would be wearing a Betsey Johnson outfit for the fashion show, I had an idea. I suggested to Jane, the manager of the Betsey Johnson store in Tysons Galleria, that I wear a wig down the runway and toss it into the crowd.

Me: That’s probably too crazy for Fashion For Paws, though.

Jane: I love it! It’s like Betsey’s last show. Do you have a minute to watch a video?

I nodded my head, while Jane switched the DVD on the television screen in the store. The finale of Betsey Johnson’s Fall 2011 show in New York City featured Betsey’s store managers walking with Betsey-inspired makeup and blond wigs. The last manager fiercely took his wig off, roared and tossed it into the crowd.

Jane pitched the idea to the team from Fashion For Paws Executive Director and The Aba Agency, and I was told that I should go for it! The wig toss turned into the “Wig Finish,” when I learned that I would be closing the show. My excitement grew, as did my nerves, at the thought of pulling this all off in front on a crowd of 1,800 people.

Adrenaline kicked in, and I was instructed to take my wig off in an exaggerated way.

Lolly from Betsey Johnson Georgetown: It needs to be really, really big! Don’t just pull your wig off. Tear it off! Rip it off your head.

Me: Okay. Should I roar like the manager in the show in New York did?

Lolly: Yes! And make it exaggerated so that everyone knows what you’re doing.

So, I went for it. I really went for it.

  

And, when I tossed that wig into the crowd, I tossed with it all of the negative emotions that I’ve been struggling to process for the last month. Over the past year, cancer has won more than its share of battles against me. Through one toss, I was able to remind myself that I have won the war!

Take that, Sergeant Aggressive Strain! I’m getting IVs every three weeks to make sure you don’t come back.

Take that, Colonel Cancerous Tumor! I do self-exams so I found you!

Take that, Admiral Abnormal Calcifications! I get annual mammograms so my radiologist saw you sneaking in.

Oh, and Captain 15% Chance of a Stage Four Recurrence, I’ll bet against your victory any day! You are not coming back here anymore! I’m taking hormones every day for the next five years to ensure that!

My body may not be up for celebrating yet, but my mind finally is.

  

That that!

Bah! Humbug!

As I began to wonder if Best Boy and I could be more than just good friends with benefits, I tried to gauge where he was coming from at this point in our relationship. On Thanksgiving, I sent him a text to say:

When I think of all the people I’m thankful for this year, you are high on that list. Thank you for making a very tough time so much easier on me. It means more to me than you know. xoxo

I started thinking about how frequently our relationship dynamic had changed since May. Best Boy and I were friends for a while, while I was spending time with his best friend, Mr. Exec. After my situation with Mr. Exec had ended, Best Boy and I became friends with benefits. When I started pursuing a relationship with Mr. Agency, I stopped sleeping with Best Boy. That lasted for seven weeks until it was clear that Mr. Agency wasn't able to handle anything serious or monogamous. So then, I started sleeping with Best Boy again. (Are you confused? It's my life, and I sure am!) 

Throughout much of my relationship with Best Boy, I was recouping from biopsies, surgery or chemotherapy. I needed all the help and companionship that I could get, and Best Boy was there for me — a lot. Was he just there for me because we were good friends? Or, was he there for me because he had feelings for me beyond friendship? I didn't know the answers to those questions.

Dating in a traditional sense was incredibly difficult during treatment since there were weeks on end in which I didn’t feel well for a single day. If there were good days, they often occurred right before I was due to receive more chemotherapy. I wondered if it might be nice to go out on a proper date with Best Boy. I was curious how our dynamic would be if we tried to interact more like a couple. Would the comfort and caring that he had shown me so often inside my house translate if we were out in public?

After we returned from Silver Diner to satisfy my craving for Caramel French toast, I kissed Best Boy goodbye and said:

I should be feeling better starting next week. It might be nice if we went out at night for a change. Maybe Ceiba or something?

Best Boy: Okay. [Pause.] It’ll have to be next weekend, though. I have a lot of work projects and meetings this week.

Me: That’s fine with me. I should be feeling even better by then. I love having you over, but I also love going out with you. It's been too long since we've done anything beyond a little brunch. [We kiss goodbye again.]

I walked into the house with a smile on my face. Best Boy and I texted throughout the week, but the following weekend came and went without any mention from him about going out to dinner.

A few days later, Best Boy texted me, asking how chemotherapy had gone and if he could come over. I wasn't feeling well so we just watched a game on television. Best Boy talked about how much he had going on at the office so I didn’t want to disregard that it was a stressful time of year for him. I also wasn't in the mood to bring up the fact that we hadn't gone out to dinner. We feel asleep and had sex in the morning before the worst of the side effects hit.

Over the weekend, Best Boy came over again. He helped me out when I was too sick to do much of anything. I was so grateful for his help, but a part of me wondered if I had missed my opportunity to date him. Did I wait too long to realize what a great guy he was?

I wasn’t sure if I would see Best Boy over the Christmas holiday. We were both staying local, but he had a lot of family obligations that weekend. I had hoped for at least a call or text from him on December 25th, but that day came and went without him contacting me.

I had dinner with friends the night after Christmas. One friend commented how she was rooting for Best Boy.

Me: I had finally decided that I was, too! But, it might be too tough for us to transition to anything more than friends with benefits. He didn’t even wish me a Merry Christmas!

While we were out, the notification of a Facebook email from Best Boy came in on my Blackberry. The message said:

Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoyed yours to the fullest!

An email? A day after Christmas? On Facebook? Was he kidding me? I turned to my friends and told them the latest.

Me: I think there should be a rule that if you’re fucking, you should at least have to call and wish her a Merry Christmas on the day of! [My friends laugh and nod their heads in agreement.]

When I got home from dinner, I found myself more irritated than sad. I just sent Best Boy back a text that said:

A FB email?!? Really? Hope you enjoyed your Christmas. xoxo

He wrote back that he had been having problems with his cell phone. (And, yes, his Android has given him problems since he first got it.) I rolled my eyes at the text.

I had chosen Mr. Exec and Mr. Agency over Best Boy in the past. And, now I wanted to see what would happen if I just focused on my relationship with Best Boy. Had I missed out on the chance to do that?

Getting it

My energy and strength finally started coming back toward the end of the third round of chemotherapy. My iron counts were up after five transfusions, and I was able to get out of the house for short intervals.

My first real outing came after Best Boy had spent the night. I awoke craving Caramel French toast from Silver Diner. (The diner ended up being my first outing four out of six rounds. There’s something about sweet, carbohydrate goodness that gets me every time.) Traveling to a place that wasn’t a doctor’s office felt wonderful, but it was especially nice because Best Boy and I hadn’t been out together in a while.

Our conversation turned to family and how we’ve dealt with our mothers’ deaths. As much as Best Boy and I had previously talked about deep subjects, I felt like we connected more over this meal than we had ever before. I remember heading home and thinking to myself:

What would have happened if I had gone out with Best Boy instead of Mr. Exec back in May?

I knew that everything had transpired as it was supposed to, but there was a part of me that couldn't help but wonder, “What if?” Best Boy is kind and caring, and he had been there for me through a lot of rough days.

On one particular evening, Best Boy came over to watch the late football game with me. I tried to keep my eyes open as I rested my head in his lap.

Best Boy: Did you go out today?

Me: Yes. Went to watch football over at one of my best friend’s places in NoVA. [Northern Virginia, for you non-locals.]

Best Boy: Did you drive yourself?

Me: Yes.

Best Boy: No wonder why you’re exhausted.

Best Boy understood me and how much treatment affected me. The simple act of driving myself to a friend's house 20 minutes away to sit on the couch and watch a football game and then driving 20 minutes home was exhausting! Best Boy took good care of me that night, bringing me water and walking my dog. He knew that if I was to have any ounce of energy under the sheets that I couldn’t exert myself any more than I already had. He just got it.

There are guys with whom I always try to look sexy and act my best, while with a few rare others, I can just be myself. Best Boy was around no matter my mood — which thanks to steroids and early menopause wasn’t always chipper, my health, my ability to have sex, and my appearance. (And, trust me when I say that sporting no makeup, a bald head and baggy sweats while sick wasn't a good look.) Best Boy got me, and I was so grateful for that.

I found myself questioning why I didn’t see him as more than a good friend with benefits. Why was I so late to realizing what everyone else already had about Best Boy?
 

Her reflections

Prior to heading into her last radiation treatment, she went online and logged onto Facebook. She saw a notification that it was Rod’s birthday. Tears came to her eyes, as she realized that her dear partner-in-treatment still found a way to be there for her, even from Heaven.

For her final treatment, she had a substitute radiation technician since her usual technician was at a conference. That technician unfortunately hadn’t been relayed some necessary information about how to treat her. She went into the treatment room dancing and smiling because it was her last one. She left dry-heaving, crying from the pain and cursing like a sailor.

A day later, adrenaline thankfully kicked in and she walked with other cancer survivors in the Critters for the Cure fashion show. The event raised $25,000 for uninsured DC-area women battling breast and gynecological cancers.

Photo Credit: Fido Journalism

She looks at that picture and still doesn’t recognize herself. One might think that almost six months without her long red locks would have changed that, but that’s not the case. She wonders if it’s her own way of coping. As much as she was the poster child for not covering her bald head during treatment, that doesn’t mean that she has liked what she sees when she looks in the mirror.

Friends have commented about her perfect head shape, how good she looks, and how inner beauty is what matters. She responds with a smile, a simple thanks, or by saying, “I can’t wait for my hair to be back." Deep down, she knows her friends are right. But, emotions, vanity and a desire for her old life to be back often outweigh logic.

A year ago, she looked like her avatar.

  

And, now she doesn’t.

Her appearance serves as a constant reminder of how much has changed over the past year. Her fingernails are half-dead. She's now sporting a buzz cut and doing her eye makeup differently to compensate for her lack of eye lashes. It’s taking a lot longer to lose the chemotherapy weight than it did to gain. Her blood counts and blood pressure are still low, and she’s exhausted and weak.

On Saturday, she felt especially sick. Her friend found her in the bathroom, lying on the floor. While at the doctor's office yesterday, her blood pressure was a very low 80/40, and she had the chills. She sat there shaking, even though she was wearing a hooded coat and silk underwear, and holding a hot pack in her hands. Radiation might have ended, but the side effects continue.

Two weeks ago, there was an afternoon when she felt good. Really good. She looked at her friend, smiled and said:

I’m done! I don't have to have anymore chemotherapy or radiation!

She knows that there will be more and more moments like that with each week. But, she still isn’t ready to celebrate that she’s done. Her heart, body and mind just aren’t there yet.

What do you need, honey?

Let’s tackle a reader’s question from Formspring:

So, my partner says she does find me “attractive,” but doesn’t ever really get into the mood. I’m not abnormally hasty or anything. She just says that she doesn’t feel it often, although she’s felt it in the past. I feel…bad about myself. What am I to do?

Answer: It's perfectly understandable that you feel confused and slighted. Have there been any changes in her life or her routine that could have precipitated a decrease in her sex drive? Has she switched jobs? Has she been having any health problems? Is there added stress from family obligations, financial issues or a pending move?

I recommend having a heart-to-heart with her about what she needs from you at this time in her life. Some of those needs may be emotional, while others may be functional or sexual. She may be going through something right now that she hasn't felt comfortable sharing with anyone, including you. Or, it could be that she feels like she's at the end of her rope as she juggles life, work and family.

Try not to broach the matter when you’re rushed or expecting to have sex. After you listen to her needs, ask how you can help her. Listen and then, if it seems appropriate, tell her what your needs are in this relationship. How can you both prioritize the other person more? How can you compromise to both feel satisfied emotionally and sexually? Have you been together long enough that it’s time to try to spice up your relationship? (Spicing your relationship up might involve more romance than sex.)

If you can, don't internalize her problems, although that’s easier said than done when you are in a relationship. I hope that if you’re together, you both find the other person attractive and that your connection is stronger than a change in your routine or the other’s appearance.

No one, especially a partner, should do or say anything to make you feel less attractive. Your partner should try to build you up, not the other way around. Hopefully, you will be able to resolve the situation and feel better about yourself. If that's not the case, though, what can you do on your own to better yourself? That might involve going for a promotion at work, joining a gym, taking a class, meditating, or playing a sport. Think of what would make you happy and give that a try.

Please let me know how the conversation goes. And, readers, what advice do you have for this person?
 

My 25 cents

After Philly Matt and I broke up in 2006, we stayed in touch and enjoyed occasional benefits with each other. We both dated other people, but for over a year, we never discussed that fact. Our break-up was too fresh, and we were still transitioning from exes to friends.

In 2008, our friendship really started to grow and the benefits became secondary. No topic was off-limits between us, although we tried not to be too detailed about other people we dated. When I started this blog, I was pleasantly surprised that he became one of my first regular readers. As I prepared to write the posts about our break-up, I asked him if he was okay if I included everything that happened.Philly Matt: Of course. What you write is honest and what happened. How can I have a problem with that?

In 2009, he passed on my blog link to a co-worker. The next day at work, the co-worker walked in, turned to Philly Matt and said:

You’re an idiot!!!

We both laughed about that and frequently commented about how lucky we were to be such close friends. It can be tough to be good friends with an ex, but we managed to do so. I also let Matt know that I would not care to read intimate details about him and any of his girlfriends (past or present).

Me: I don't mind knowing general details, but I give you credit for reading all the stuff you do about me with other guys.

When I was with “Buckeyes” Boy, I had a hard time figuring out how Philly Matt could join our group at our annual ski trip without causing “Buckeyes” Boy to get jealous or mad. When Matt started dating Tammy, I questioned whether his relationship would impact our friendship. I hadn’t addressed the matter directly with him before I blogged about it. The following day, he called me to say:

I want you in my life until the day I take my last breath. You are a very important person to me and anyone I date will need to know that and be okay with that. If you call me in the middle of the night and need me, she's going to need to understand that I have to go. Staying friends with you is not negotiable.

Philly Matt was my confidante and a great advice giver. I’m not normally one for tough love, but Matt always managed to phrase his constructive criticism in a way that was endearing and resonated with me.

In late November 2010, I learned that Philly Matt and Linda, the mother of his children, had been dating on and off since they met in the early 1990s. The fact that we were exes and close friends and that I hadn’t heard of this before caught me completely off guard. We regularly talked about Linda, Tammy, his ex-girlfriends and his children. Getting involved repeatedly with the mother of your children isn’t trivial information.

If I had felt 100%, I might have addressed the issue immediately. But, the combination of steroids, early menopause and chemotherapy drugs had me feeling emotional, foggy and exhausted. I figured I could bring the matter up when we spoke next and that’s what I did. When the topic turned to Linda and the children, I asked:

Has Linda brought up your relationship with Tammy again?

Philly Matt: No. I told her that she needed to let it be, and I think that’s what she’s doing.

Me: That’s good. [Pause.] You know…I was surprised to hear when we talked last that you and Linda had been on and off for all these years. When we dated, you told me that you guys hadn’t been together since Chloe was a baby. And, we talk so frequently, it’s odd that this never came up.

I paused to let him say something, but he didn’t.

Me: I’m happy for you and Tammy. I’ve never heard you talk about a girl the way you talk about her, and I hope to meet her when I’m done with treatment. But, I’m rooting for you and Linda. If you guys keep coming back to each other year after year for 17 or 18 years, then there has to be something there. [I pause again, but he doesn’t say anything.] And, anytime you’ve brought up Linda’s comments about Tammy and your responses, none of them are: Tammy’s the one. I’m in love with Tammy. This is it for me.

All of your responses are about how Linda had her chance and how she chose to break up with you. That sounds more like you’re upset at Linda than choosing Tammy over her.

Philly Matt: Okay.

I had given Matt my two (or 25) cents and have never brought up the matter with him again. I kept my focus on the fact that I was thankful to call him my friend and looked forward to having him down in DC for my fifth round of chemotherapy in December.
 

Game changer

My ex-boyfriend, Philly Matt, and I see each other two or three times a year. In a typical month, we’ll text and email several times a week and talk on the telephone every other week. Even though we haven’t dated since 2006 or had sexual relations (using the definition of Former President Clinton) in four years, we’ve grown closer. He’s my sounding board and one of my best friends.

Several readers and friends in real life have asked why Philly Matt and I don’t try dating again. I felt like it wasn’t worth jeopardizing our friendship for the possibility that we might be able to work as a couple. I was thus very surprised when Philly Matt informed me in May 2010 that we weren’t together because I was always in a relationship or getting over someone.

Thanksgiving 2010 found me in casual relationships with Best Boy and Mr. Agency, and Philly Matt in a serious relationship with Tammy from New England. When I talked to Philly Matt on the phone, he relayed to me how upset Linda, the mother of his children, was at how much time he had been spending with Tammy.

Philly Matt: Linda keeps saying that she might not want to be with me, but that she doesn’t want anyone else to be. I told her [Linda] that she had her chance. She can’t be upset that I found someone else.

I started thinking about how odd this exchange was. Why would Linda care if Matt was dating someone since she and Matt haven’t been together in almost a decade? (When I met Philly Matt in 2005, he said that he and his children’s mother hadn’t dated since his youngest child was a baby.) Wouldn’t Linda want Philly Matt to be happy?

Me: A little jealousy is normal, but it doesn’t make sense that Linda would be so upset about this. You said that she’s been making similar comments about you and Tammy since the summer, right?

Philly Matt: Yep.

Me: Have you guys been together recently?

Philly Matt: What do you mean?

Me: Well, that sounds like comments that someone would make if they still had feelings for you. Have you and Linda been together since Chloe was a baby?

Philly Matt: Yeah.

Me: You have?!?

Philly Matt: Yeah. We’ve been together on and off for years.

Me: Really?!? So…when was the last time that you guys were together?

Philly Matt: We were trying to make things work earlier this year. [My jaw drops, and my eyes become as big as saucers. I want to ask why that hasn’t come up in the past five years, but I just let him keep talking.] We tried, and she said that it couldn’t work between us. I wanted it to, but what could I do? So, I moved on.

My mind was scrambling, and I realized that I needed to collect my thoughts about this. Matt and Linda had started dating 17 or 18(!) years ago. I might not have even dated him had I known this back in 2005 since I would never get between a man and the mother of his children. It also crossed my mind that if I was just finding this news out now, did Tammy know?

I figured it best to change the topic and discuss this more in our next call. It wasn’t pressing since Philly Matt's relationship with either Linda or Tammy didn’t affect my relationship with him. But, it was definitely a game changer and reaffirmed in my mind why Matt and I weren't meant to be more than close friends.
 

Doctor, Doctor, give me the news!

A family friend recently had knee surgery. The procedure went well, and prior to leaving the hospital, the nurse gave him discharge instructions. He can walk, but he can't drive. He can return to work and resume certain upper body exercises next week, but can only perform lower-body exercises once he starts physical therapy in three weeks.

The detailed discharge instructions that he received made me think about a friend's comment to “Exit Only.” In that post, I answered a reader's question about how to broach the fact that her medical issues impede her from having anal sex with her boyfriend. In the comments section, a friend indicated that she wouldn't feel comfortable talking to her doctor about sex. I don’t think she’s alone in that sentiment.

In a recent study of female cancer patients conducted by the University of Chicago Medical Center, 42% wanted to talk to their doctors about sexual health issues. Only 7% of these women — who ranged in age from 21 to 88 with an average age of 55 — had done so.These patients didn't just want to talk about sex with their doctors. They needed to talk about sex with their doctors.

In thinking of those statistics, I believe that both the doctors and the patients are to blame. As adults, we all need to learn how to advocate for ourselves and our loved ones in a medical setting. (Illness is an unfortunate, but inevitable part of life.) And, health care professionals working outside of pediatrics should operate under the assumption that all of their patients are having sex and advise them accordingly.

“Anything that affects the female sexual organs will have repercussions on body image and on a woman's sex life," said Emily Hill, MD, a fourth year resident in obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Chicago Medical Center, and lead author of the study.

Peggy Brick, a renowned sex educator in her 80s, opens her speaking engagements with one question:

Why do we stop learning about sex around the time we start having it?

She explores how each age and stage bring with it different changes to our lives. Peggy then asks us to think about how we can address the physical and emotional ramifications of these changes in a way that continues to prioritize our need for intimacy.

I maintain that talking about these life changes and their impact on our sexual health is important. In some instances, that will mean having a conversation with your partner, a friend, a therapist or a clergyman. In others, that will mean having a frank discussion with your doctor.

Assuming that you have health insurance and have some choice about which doctor you see, select a physician with whom you feel comfortable. Evaluate the doctor's bedside manner along with his or her education, experience and location. If you can't imagine talking to your doctor about any medical issues that you have or potentially could have (including, but not limited to, urination, constipation, diarrhea, your period, changes in your testicles, a lump in your breast, your sex drive, and depression), then find another doctor!

If you are recovering from surgery or have an injury or health condition, the only way to find out what you are or are not allowed to do is to ask your doctor. And, when you ask, be specific. It's not always enough to inquire as to whether or not you can have sex since you can achieve orgasm by more than one means. For those of you who have sex toys or engage in anal sex, don't assume that a temporary ban on sex does or doesn't allow you to partake in those activities. Ask.

If you don't feel comfortable talking about medical issues directly with your doctor, you can:

1. Write your questions down on a piece of paper and present the paper to your doctor;
2. Ask your doctor for his or her email for follow-up questions; or
3. Broach the topic with a nurse, physician's assistant, technician or receptionist with whom you have a good rapport. That person will either forward your questions to the doctor or answer you himself or herself.

For those of you in the medical profession, it's worth inquiring about your practice’s policies regarding sexual health issues. If the practice appreciates the need for these conversations to happen, how can you respectfully convey that information to patients? (A brief comment during a consultation, a card or pamphlet in the waiting room, or a sentence on a patient form should do the trick.) When it comes to post-surgical or post-treatment discharge instructions, include helpful guidelines regarding sex. A one-line instruction now could save a patient from complications later.

Medical problems arise. Sex is a healthy and natural part of life. Isn't it time for us all to recognize how one impacts the other?

Have you talked to your doctor about a sexual health or sensitive medical issue? I'd love to hear from those who have, as well as those who haven't felt comfortable enough to do so.

But, I’m done!

I finished radiation yesterday. I thought that I would be elated, but I’m honestly in too much pain and too exhausted to rejoice right now. I hope that this post helps to clarify why I haven’t been blogging as often as I normally do, and why the end of treatment isn't all jubilation for me.

Since I started radiation six weeks ago, I wake up and just lie in bed for at least an hour a day because my body aches so much.

But, I’m done.

My white blood count and neutrophils are the lowest that they’ve been since I started treatment. If I’m exposed to a cold before my counts go up, there’s a risk of a serious infection.

But, I’m done.

Radiation tightens tissues. So, my right breast looks as though I've had a lift, while my left breast hangs low. Trust me when I say that it's not a good look.

But, I'm done.

I’m still 14 pounds over from my pre-treatment weight. (At my highest, I was 23 pounds over my normal weight. Lucky me to have the cancer and treatment that cause one to put on the pounds!)

But, I’m done.

I have more hot flashes in a day than I can count on two hands. (When I heard older women talk about hot flashes, I tended to react dismissively. I don’t anymore. I have such admiration for women in high visibility positions who experience this every day and function like nothing is happening. My face turns beat red so everyone around me knows that I’m having one.)

But, I’m done.

I've lost 15% of feeling in my hands and feet because radiation has triggered my neurological symptoms.

But, I'm done.

I nap in the afternoon and still have trouble keeping my eyes open after dinner.

But, I’m done.

I’m so weak that my physical therapist won’t even let me exercise with the lightest resistance band.

But, I’m done.

Over the past two weeks, I've lost parts of my eyebrows and almost all of my bottom eyelashes. (Apparently, it’s normal to lose them after you’re done with chemotherapy, as the hair on the rest of your body starts to grow back.)

But, I’m done.

My back is concave, my rib cage is out of alignment, and I’m in pain every time I sit up.

But, I’m done.

I still need one IV every three weeks through September to decrease the risk of recurrence of the aggressive strain of cancer that I had. I also need to be on hormone therapy for five years.

But, I’m done with chemotherapy and radiation.

I feel more drained than sad about all of the things that are going on with my body right now. The past nine months have clearly taken their toll on my health, and it will take several more months at a minimum before my health and my life return to normal. I know that there will be a day, though, in the not-so-distant future when I’m able to go about my daily routine free of symptoms. And, I can't wait for that day to come!

Thankfully, I AM DONE!!!

Exit Only

Time to tackle a reader’s question from Formspring:

Question: My boyfriend is into anal, but it is not my preference due to some medical issues I had (down there). Even though I don’t mind trying new things, how do I relate this to him so he understands? Is there anything extra I can do to please him?

Answer: I’m sorry to hear that you’ve had to deal with health problems. I have several friends with debilitating stomach and intestinal problems so I appreciate what you're going through.

Since you’re serious enough with this guy to refer to him as your “boyfriend,” I hope that you feel comfortable enough to have an honest conversation with him.

In your own words, I recommend saying something like:

I know that you’ve mentioned that you enjoy anal. But, I think you know that I’ve had some tummy issues. I don’t want to risk having any additional health problems by trying to have anal sex. Can you appreciate that? [Pause and wait for an answer. There might be further discussion about your medical issues and how they impact your life. If he truly cares about you, he won't want to do anything that could hurt you.]

I do like to try new things, though, and I definitely want to make you happy. Is there something other than anal that we could try that you would like? [See what ideas he suggests. Talk about your interests and your fantasies and figure out what works for both of you. Since he’s a guy, I would figure out in advance how you would respond to him if he asks about having a threesome.]

Try to broach the matter at a time when you won't be rushed and you’re not getting ready to have sex. There’s no need to add stress or pressure to the situation.

I would also consider bringing a few ideas to the table that could hopefully please both of you. What if you had an anal scene from a porno film playing in the background while you had sex? Could you read a book or watch a DVD about Tantric Sex together and try some of the moves out? What if you brought toys or some light fetish gear (nipple clamps) into the bedroom? Would either of you consider rimming? Do you normally use lubricant while you’re having sex? (If so, try not using it as much. If not, try using some. Varying the level of wetness and tightness can provide different sexual experiences.)

Also, have you spoken to your gastroenterologist or primary care physician about whether you’re allowed to attempt anal? If you are medically prohibited from engaging in any anal play, that’s definitely worth mentioning when you talk to your boyfriend. Would you be willing to give it a try if you're medically cleared to do so?  (I’m not looking to have you try things outside of your comfort zone, but when it comes to the intersection of sexual health and a medical condition, it’s always worth talking with your doctor.)

Keep in mind that there's no right or wrong here. Your sexual comfort level is for you alone to decide, and you should never feel like you need to try something because other people are or want you to do so. In addition, there are many women without health issues who don't care to have anal sex. Recent statistics indicate that only 1/3 of heterosexual males and females are having anal sex.

Please let me know how it goes. Readers, do you have any thoughts to share?