Is It Strange to Look Forward to a Visit with your Oncologist?

This is my third attempt to post a new entry. I'm tempted to say it's writer's block, but it's not. It's just that the thoughts I've been having are worthy of about a line or two and not a full post, so I'll do what all good bloggers do when they can't connect the dots from idea to idea -- I'll use bullets. 

• I've been looking forward to my upcoming visit to see Dr. L. But then I often find  myself looking forward to my quarterly visits. That seems strange. It's not the Crystal Light flavored contrast agent; or the pre-scan fasting; or the bloodwork. Part of it is that it's an opportunity to be another 3-months clear. As much as I try not to live scan to scan, there's always that mental calendar that's hard to turn off. Each post-chemo visit from now until whenever may carry the anxiety of the lymphoma returning, but it also brings with it the opportunity to have as close as we get to a clean bill of health.

• The other part of the anticipation is because of the way I'm always treated at Dana-Farber when I replace my employee ID with my patient bracelet. There's a feeling of welcome and belonging that permeates the place and for cancer patients who can feel vulnerable and full of a sense of otherness, not to mention just plain sick, this big bear hug of a feeling helps.

• I'm also looking forward to our trip to NY to the Lymphoma Research Foundation's National Education Forum. But I have to admit, it's just odd to be looking forward to attending a forum for cancer patients. As we say, the cancer patient/survivor club is the nicest club that no one ever wants to join. It will be good to hear the latest on lymphoma research and treatment, maybe connect with a few other follicularians (that's my new word for follicular lymphoma survivors) and to get away for a weekend. (If you're going to NY for this event, let me know!) 

• The longer it is between posts, the harder it is to post. 

• I was surprised the other day to feel a passing wave of nausea. But if you believe what you read on the Internet, that's pretty normal even 6 months post-chemo. As a friend of mine said, I shouldn't be surprised given all the chemicals that were pumped through me. It's happened on occasion since treatment finished, but it's manageable and well short of the need for medication to manage it.

• Our less processed life continues. It continues to surprise me with how much artificial stuff is in supposedly good-for-you foods.

• As I introduced myself the other night to my new editing class, I was thinking: I wonder if any of my students Googled me, and if so, what they found. As an adjunct professor, there's not a lot of official info on me on the Emerson web site, but Google is an open book, so to speak. Two or three years ago, it would have been an innocuous search that would have revealed a French chef, and a corporate bio or two or me. Now, it's a different story. Cancer is inexorably part of my identity. It's not what I wanted, but I'm good with it.

--Michael

p.s. - It's taken more than a week between writing and posting. It's just going to be a busy fall, with work, teaching, sports, and other commitments. So while I aim to post more regularly, it may be a quiet blogging fall -- both for writing and reading. So to all my fellow bloggers out there, hope you're doing well.  

The Religion of Nutrition

If I have to tell the truth, I would admit that I haven't always been the healthiest eater. I was a picky eater as a kid, and although I grew up to be a much more adventurous eater, that hasn't always resulted in healthy choices -- like when I opted for the 10-scoop Colossal sundae at the Kellerhaus one summer vacation, or the many trips to Stuff yer Face in New Jersey for strombolis (they had two sizes, large and huge), or my college diet of buffalo wings and other college staples.

But the other day I looked in my refrigerator the other day and didn't recognize nearly half of the items in there. That's not that unusual. We've often played the, Name that Leftover game. The oddity this time wasn't the colors of the leftovers turned modern art inside Tupperware containers; it was the labels on the containers. It said things like "date paste" and sesame tahini. 

What's going on here?

About a year ago, I started working on posting this presentation on SlideShare for work. Around that time, I also discovered the website, the 100-day real food challenge. The idea behind that site is simply to pledge to eat nothing but real, unprocessed food for 100 days. I didn't take the pledge but between the advice offered there and the presentation, well, some of it sunk in. I didn't become a vegan, or make any categorical changes to my diet... yet, but I did became more attuned to what was in the food I was eating. And, I started to:

1. Eat more fruits and vegetables, aiming for more than 5 servings per day.
2. Eat less sugary foods. 
3. Eat less processed food.  

We had some success there. Except for kale. I know kale is great for you, and that some of you may actually like the rancid stuff  but here's how the kale conversation usually goes.  

Stacy: You want some of my smoothie? 

Me: Um, is there kale in it? 

Stacy: It's really good. 

Me: You didn't answer the question. 

Stacy: You can't even taste it. 

Me: No thanks.  

 But kale (and shredded coconut) aside, I'll eat just about anything. Of late, largely through Stacy's efforts, that "anything" has been increasingly healthy.  Which takes us back to our refrigerator.  Most of the containers of unrecognizable food are of Stacy's doing. She's continued to embrace more of the whole food and plant-based eating philosophy, which has involved a lot of new foods, and a lot of reading. And here (the reading, not the whole food/plant-based eating) is where the problems begin. 

As you dive deep into the jungle of nutrition and diet books, you find that, as Stacy says, nutrition is a lot like religion. Many people faithfully follow their nutritional philosophy - vegans, vegetarians, whole fooders, eat loaclites, carb haters -- and leave the rest of us Twinkie-eating, soda drinking carnivores alone. (For the record, I don't eat Twinkies... anymore, or drink soda for that matter.) But some people believe in their nutrition with a zeal that often borders on fanaticism. And as they proselytize their nutritional philosophy, and then convert their beliefs into a marketable book with a catchy title, they often boil down complicated issues and inconclusive science into absolutes: Cheese will give you cancer; Blueberries will prevent it; Wine is good; Wine is bad.  

It ain't that easy. 

A simple web search on most food topics will almost always turn up evidence on both sides of any nutritional argument. And the more you dig, often, the more opinions you'll find. It's enough to make you feel guilty if your diet is anything but kale and water. (I haven't found any research saying either of those are bad for you.) 

Enter thoughtful eating.  For me, the trick is to walk the line between thoughtful eating and guilt-driven choices. There's enough guilt surrounding cancer (and eating, for that matter)  that I don't want to be dissecting the science every time I reach into the fridge. I love to eat, and I want to be conscious of what I'm eating, without obsessing about every bite, every meal. Sometimes a salad full of leafy green vegetables is perfect, but sometimes I need to enjoy a hot fudge sundae... maybe just not 10 scoops of it. 

 --Michael