Filed under: Childhood Cancers , Hospice , Daily news If your child was in pain and dying what would you do? It's a situation most parents will never find themselves in, but for those whose children have cancer it's a scenario they might contemplate and, possibly, face. A study published yesterday in the March edition of Archives of Pediatrics & Adolescent Medicine showed that about 13 percent of parents whose children had died of cancer had considered asking about ending their child's life. Nine percent said they had discussed it with caregivers. Dr. Joanne Wolfe , a palliative pain specialist at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute and the Children's Hospital in Boston who interviewed the parents of 141 now-deceased children, told the Associated Press that the study shows how difficult it can be to treat dying children. Parents do not want to see their children suffer and do not know about the legal options for pain relief like sedating children into unconsciousness. For doctors treating dying children who are in a great deal of pain, the researchers believe that this study shows that there is a need for more attention to pain management. "It's one of life's greatest tragedies to be facing the death of a child," Wolfe, told HealthDay News . "It's also very difficult as a clinician to be taking care of a dying child. We aim to cure the child, or at least give them a very, very long life. Unfortunately, we are at a stage where some children do succumb to their illnesses. We have an equal obligation to ensure they are as comfortable as possible at the end of life." About half of the parents said they would consider hastening a child's death because of uncontrollable pain or an irreversible coma. End-of-life care , which is an increasingly popular topic of study among older patients, has not been well researched among children. More information about caring for a dying loved one is available at AOL Health .

Filed under: Breast Cancer , Celebrity news , Cancer Survivors I wrote recently about The View co-host Elisabeth Hasselbeck and the inner strength she says she acquired from helping care for her mother during a battle with breast cancer. I ended my post with this statement: It seems a common thread -- the fact that cancer makes us all stronger in one way or another. It's one of the silver linings, I think. Cancer can be a gift. We just have to regard it as one and look hard for its hidden treasures. Two readers have since left comments indicating I must be crazy for thinking of cancer as a gift. One reader wrote: I'm certainly glad that Elisabeth was able to take something positive away from her mother's bout with breast cancer, but I'm not sure that I can buy into the "gift" part. Another reader had this to say: . . . By the way, Rosie (O'Donnell) lost her mother when she was only 10, to breast cancer, I'm sure she didn't find it a gift . . . Of course Rosie doesn't think of her mother's death from cancer as a gift. It's not cancer or death that I regard as a gift. In no way do I consider my own breast cancer a gift. But there are a few treasures I've dug up along my travels with this disease. My writing career, my pursuit of a healthy diet and regular exercise, my desire to reach others struggling in life, my all-out appreciation for family and friends -- these are the gifts. Even though cancer may one day take my life, I still will have received these gifts. Surely, each of us can find something worthwhile that flows from cancer -- like better awareness, a voice we can share, a wake-up call, something. It may not be obvious at first. It may take years to find. But some day, in some way, a gift will appear. Well, that's my opinion anyway.

Filed under: Bloggers Last year, on July 14th, I took the day off work to get a tattoo of my dad's initials on my wrist. Today, on July 14th, I will make breakfast, go to the gym, try to get some work done and have dinner with my family. But the significance of the day won't be lost on me. It was 2 years ago today that I watched my dad take his final breath, losing his short battle with cancer. It's an awful thing to see -- watching someone wheezing, struggling to get air, then finally giving up -- and I had nightmares about that for so long, nightmares in which I was the one struggling to breathe. The last time I saw my dad alive, we were fighting -- he, trying to take off his oxygen mask because it was pinching his nose; I, forcing it back on, forcing him to breathe, for my sake more than his own. And when it was over, I thought my life was over. I was certain I would never laugh again. I took grief counselling after my loss, and the counsellor told me that days like this would be hard -- these anniversaries of tragedy. And they are but on this particular day, I don't like to dwell. I'd rather celebrate the anniversary of his birth than the mourn the day of his death. But the memories are more fresh than usual. If there's one thing I want to get across here, it's this: Fathers, mothers, husbands, wives -- take care of your health. You owe it to those who love you . Visit your doctor. Insist on taking the tests. Buy yourself that extra time with your family. Do it for them, the ones who will be left behind. Permalink     Email this     Linking Blogs     Comments

Filed under: Breast Cancer , Prostate Cancer , Research , Stress Reduction , Daily news Way to go Wake Forest University scientists -- for adding to the body of evidence connecting stress to illness and for reporting before anyone else that the stress hormone epinephrine causes changes in prostate and breast cancer cells that may make them resistant to death. Emotional stress contributes not only to the development of cancer, says lead researcher George Kulik, D.V.M., Ph.D , but it also reduces the effectiveness of cancer treatments. Previous research shows levels of epinephrine, produced by the adrenal glands, are sharply increased during stressful situations and can stay elevated during long-term stress and depression. During this study, published in the on-line Journal of Biological Chemistry, Kulik and colleagues found that a protein called BAD -- the cause of cell death -- becomes inactive when cancer cells are exposed to epinephrine. This is huge for patients and researchers. "It may be important for patients who have increased responses to stress to learn to manage the effects," said Kulik. "And, the results point to the possibility of developing an intervention to block the effects of epinephrine." Read     Permalink     Email this     Linking Blogs     Comments

Filed under: All Cancers , Daily news Cancer cases are expected to more than double between the years 2000 and 2030, says the director of the World Health Organization's International Agency for Research on Cancer. This upward climb will occur primarily in poor countries due to an increase in population growth, longer life expectancy, more smoking, and a lack of health care in low and medium-resource countries. "What's going to happen between now and 2030 is that the population is going to increase from about 6.5 billion to 8 billion in 2030," Dr. Peter Boyle reports. "So even if the risks remain constant at each five-year age group, because we've got more people around, we're going to have more cases of cancer. It's the unfortunate successes for developed countries over the past 40 years, such as the export of cigarette smoking and alcohol consumption, that have doomed poorer countries, says Boyle. Consider this definition of doom: By the year 2030, there will be 27 million cases of cancer, 17 million deaths caused by the disease, and 75 million people living with cancer. Read     Permalink     Email this     Linking Blogs     Comments

Filed under: Cancer by the Numbers All cancers are not treated equally. Some attract a frenzy of attention -- breast cancer -- and some receive not much attention at all -- gallbladder cancer. Some are vigorously researched and studied. Others sit by idly, rarely the subject of investigation. Some are feverishly funded. Some never prosper by way of financial support. Yet they all share something very important in common. They are all cancer. All cancers are marked by an uncontrollable division and spread of abnormal cells. And they are all capable of delivering shock and despair and even death to any one of us. And that makes each one -- brain cancer, cervical cancer, colon cancer, eye cancer, liver cancer, prostate cancer, stomach cancer, you name it -- worthy of equal attention. And so I bring to you Cancer by the Numbers, a series of posts that will feature the basics about all sorts of cancer, beginning with the numbers -- the statistics -- to help define the prevalence of each cancer, followed by important facts about screening, diagnosis, treatment, survival, and more. I will cover the well-known cancers, the sort-of-known cancers, the barely-known cancers. And while I can only offer what I can track down on each form of cancer, I intend to dish out every piece of data I can dig up -- so we all can become a little more informed, a little more prepared should we have to personally do battle with any one of the 100 possible cancers out there. The American Cancer Society reports that 1,399,790 new cancer cases will be diagnosed in 2006. This estimate does not include most carcinoma in situ (noninvasive cancer) cases and also does take into account the estimated one million cases of basal and squamous cell skin cancers that will be diagnosed this year. Of these predicted cases, about 564,830 will result in death -- that's more than 1,500 people each day. Cancer is the second most common cause of death in the United States, exceeded only by heart disease , and accounts for one of every four deaths. These numbers are staggering. But without further explanation, they are broad and all-encompassing and don't say much about how all the individual diseases add up. That's what I plan to do -- break it all down, cancer by cancer, until the numbers make sense. And the cancers do too. Permalink     Email this     Linking Blogs     Comments

Filed under: Lung Cancer , Celebrity in memoriam The Runaways punk rock drummer, guitarist and songwriter Sandy West has died after a long battle with lung cancer. The Runaways, a 70s female punk rock band who made the tune Cherry Bomb a fan favorite, was attributed with being the launching pad for the solo careers of guitarists Joan Jett and Lita Ford. Posted on West's website , "Sandy West was proud to be one of the founding members of The Runaways. While most teens were attending high school full time and planning for the prom, Sandy and The Runaways were forging a musical legacy. They were partly responsible for the punk movement, and played with or inspired bands like The Ramones, The Sex Pistols and Blondie." The Runaways band members included Cherie Currie - vocals; Joan Jett - guitar, vocals; Lita Ford - guitar, vocals; Sandy West - drums, vocals; Michael Steele - vocals, bass; Peggy Foster - bass; Jackie Fox - bass; Vicki Blue - bass and Laurie McAllister - bass. The Legacy page features comments from people in the industry who have worked with or have been inspired by The Runaways. Sandy West was 47. Read     Permalink     Email this     Linking Blogs     Comments

Filed under: Breast Cancer , Research , Daily news Technology has come a long way over the years -- and now the technology behind digital mammography is allowing life-saving screenings for the toughest patients to diagnose with breast cancer. This is no small technological breakthough. It is a critical component for lowering the breast cancer death rate the American Cancer Society reports has declined 2.3 percent each year between 1990 and 2002. Since breast cancer is a treatable disease if caught early, digital mammography will up the odds of survival for women with this disease. Digital mammography operates according to a computer-based technique that allows for digital manipulation of a breast X-ray. It exceeds the capability of film mammography -- and is much like the comparison between digital photography versus film photography. Both work. But one works better. Studies show digital mammograms have a lot to offer. They detect tumors better in young women with dense breast tissue, for example. They allow for ease of storage and retrieval of images. And they can easily become part of a woman's electronic medical record. There are still benefits of traditional mammography and women are still urged to use this less expensive option. They are also urged to conduct self-breast exams and to report for clinical exams with physicians. It's the whole package that contributes to comprehensive breast health, not just one isolated test. When used in combination with all other screening methods, digital mammography makes for a more accurate overall picture. Read     Permalink     Email this     Linking Blogs     Comments

Filed under: Breast Cancer A few days ago, notification of an e-mail arrived in my inbox. It popped up right in front of me, with the sender's name -- Amy Wilson -- glaring in black print right before my eyes. Amy is my friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer just after my own diagnosis. We e-mailed frequently about our cancer hopes and fears and so it was never before odd that a message would travel from her computer in Ohio to mine in Florida. But on the day this one e-mail arrived, it was odd -- because Amy died two weeks ago, after a 15-month battle with the disease we both vowed to conquer. The e-mail was not from Amy. It was from her husband, Paul. And it was as comforting to hear from him as it was odd to see Amy's name flash in front of me. You see, I have wanted to call Paul, e-mail Paul, send a card to Paul -- something. I have wanted to reach out in some way, even though I have never met the man who thought he would spend the rest of his life raising his two children with Amy. But I never could figure out what I would write or say or send. I have been afraid that it would be hard for him to talk about Amy's death. I've been afraid that it would be hard for me to talk about her death. So I have waited, hoping the passage of time would help prepare me for some sort of action. And in the end, time was not necessary. Because Paul reached out to me. And this is what he wrote in the e-mail he sent from Amy's mailbox. I'm Amy's husband Paul and I was going through Amy's e-mail and noticed your e-mail. I'm not sure if Ericha told you or not but Amy passed away 10/05/06. Here is the story: http://www.ohio.com/mld/ohio/15693317.htm If you're hearing this for the first time, sorry to tell you over e-mail. You were a great inspiration to Amy. Your quote " Fight the Good Fight" was front and center on our fridge. Please don't let this news get you down, Amy would want your chin up, would want you to keep fighting. Thanks for all your support. And now I can contact Paul, because he has opened the door. He -- the one suffering the greatest loss -- has comforted me. And now I need to thank him. Read     Permalink     Email this     Linking Blogs     Comments

Filed under: All Cancers , Sunday Seven I have a new friend who is a new breast cancer survivor. She is surviving a new diagnosis, a recent lumpectomy, and the moments leading up to another surgery to further investigate the margins surrounding the tumor removed from her breast. She is surviving the first phase of her breast cancer journey. A phase full of uncertainty and fear and panic. A phase so new and so fresh and so raw, her mind is whirling. A phase that has her grasping for any bit of direction she can find as she navigates a terrifying, unfamiliar road. My friend is a young wife and mother whose worries are consuming her. She e-mailed me today and asked if I ever have moments when I look at my young children and worry that cancer will take me from them while they are young. She asked if I have always been so sure I will be okay. And so I replied with this candid cancer confession. I look at my boys every day -- mostly at night when they are sleeping and peaceful and perfect and when cancer makes me most emotional -- and wonder "what if I am not here for them for very long?" I think all the time "if I died right now, am I confident they will be okay?" Just before I went for my first Herceptin treatment -- and just after I had read that a few women died from an allergic reaction to the drug -- I started writing a bunch of notes for my husband for after I died. I told him where to buy the boys good shoes and I listed the names of all their doctors. I reminded my husband to remember to cut their fingernails and toenails and to e-mail everyone in my address book about my death. I wrote and I cried -- and my notes sit right behind me right now on a bookshelf. I did not die -- and the notes were not necessary. Only a few women died from Herceptin and they all had previous health issues. I am not sure why I got all worked about it --- I went on to have not one side effect from the treatment really. It was not really the Herceptin, I guess -- it was the cancer. It's always on my mind, always will be. How can we not contemplate death when it is happening to young women just like us? So, yes, I think about dying. But my gut tells me I will be okay for some time. My gut has served me well. I think there will come a time when yours will serve you well too! And after I wrote this, I thought about other confessions I could reveal that might shed some light on my whole realm of surviving cancer. So here are six more completely candid cancer confessions. Candid Confession #2 I truly, deeply, genuinely fear that every ache, pain, and twinge of discomfort I experience will lead to another cancer diagnosis. A bump on the roof of my mouth, a gurgling stomach, a lingering headache, an odd shape of tissue in my breast, pain in my esophagus -- each of these discoveries has sent me into a tailspin of panic, relieved only by a visit to a physician for exams that rule out my worst fear. Rationally, I know my fears are irrational. Logically, I am fine. Emotionally, I am not. Candid Confession #3 I can't imagine how I would emotionally cope with pregnancy now that I've had cancer. I can't imagine feeling calm and peaceful and serene while contemplating the possibility of a recurrence while pregnant, the possibility of a recurrence after pregnancy, the possibility that my early death would leave my husband with the monumental responsibility of three children, the possibility of a birth defect resulting from the poisonous drugs that for two years have been swirling through my body, the possibility I would give birth to a baby girl and would pass on to her the legacy of breast cancer. The possibilities are endless. And yet I want the same third baby I wanted moments before I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I just don't know if the gamble is worth it. And I don't know if the regret will haunt me when I turn out to be alive and well with two grown boys. Candid Confession #4 I have been open and honest with my little boys about breast cancer. They know the basics. They know I had a boo-boo in my boobie, they know it was removed, they know medicine took my hair and made me better. They know the word cancer, they know it's a sickness, they know at the time being, we are done with it. But they are young -- five and three -- and have no real understanding of the word. They have no comprehension of what cancer can really do, can really take away from us all. And so there is a little pit in my stomach that aches for my little boys whose lives will forever be touched by cancer in ways none of us can predict. They are innocent and unsuspecting. I am afraid of what cancer might do to their simple souls. Candid Confession #5 I am afraid of what cancer will do to me -- short of the whole death thing. I am afraid of the chemotherapy drug Adriamycin that seeped into my veins and can be toxic to my heart. I am afraid of the drug Herceptin that sailed through my same veins over the course of one year that can also damage my heart. I am afraid of the sun because of an allergic reaction caused by my chemotherapy drugs. And I am afraid of chemo brain -- the mental fogginess I periodically experience that can prevent me from remembering my own phone number and can sometimes wipe out my short-term memory. Candid Confession #6 I have never been a fan of medication and even tried to avoid drugs to minimize treatment side effects. So when my oncologist recommended an anti-depressant during treatment to help manage my constant tears and constant anxiety, I was reluctant. Not until he convinced me that many cancer patients benefit from anti-depressants to take the edge off heightened emotion did I agree to try a daily dose of Zoloft. It worked -- in combination with counseling -- and I am not afraid to confess that this medication helps me survive. Candid Confession #7 In spite of my fears and my worries and my panic, I truly am okay. I am happy and confident and downright positive for most minutes of most days that I will survive this disease that makes me a bit unstable at times. Therefore, my most important cancer confession is this -- I have dark moments and I have dismal days and I have decisions facing me that I can't even begin to make. But I am alive right now. I am healthy. I have two beautiful children and a loving family who keep me smiling. And if it wasn't cancer, it would be something else popping up to plague me. I'm okay with cancer -- and in an odd way, I like that it keeps me thinking and analyzing and reflecting. I like that it helps me help others -- like my new friend, a new breast cancer survivor. Permalink     Email this     Linking Blogs     Comments