Thyroid Cancer Archives

Cancer Survivors: Managing Emotions After Cancer Treatment

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Since the 1980s, doctors have tried to describe the stages cancer survivors normally go through. Most divide them into a version of the three stages described below:

Acute Survival (Living With Cancer) – Covers cancer diagnosis and any subsequent treatment. During this time, patients will undergo treatment and may be invited to participate in a clinical trial to study new cancer treatments. Sometimes services are offered to patients and their caregivers to address emotional, psychological and financial problems.

Prolonged survival (transient cancer): Post-treatment period during which the risk of recurrence is relatively high. Many patients are relieved that treatment has ended, but are concerned that they will not visit the oncologist regularly. During this stage, patients often visit the oncologist two to four times a year, depending on their circumstances.

Permanent survival (living after cancer): survival after treatment and long-term. Although two out of three survivors declare that their lives have returned to normal, a third affirms that they continue to have physical, psychosocial or economic problems. During this stage, most survivors are cared for again by their GP. Ideally, they have developed a long-term follow-up plan with the oncologist for their regular doctor to implement.

Social and Emotional Repercussions of Cancer

In addition to the physical effects of cancer, survivors experience psychological, emotional, and spiritual consequences. Many of them affect quality of life and can manifest many years after treatment. Here are some of the most common problems cancer survivors face:

Fear of Recurrence

Many survivors live in fear that the cancer will return at some point. In some cases, a major event, such as the anniversary of the diagnosis or the end of treatment with the oncologist, can trigger these feelings. Fear can be good if it encourages you to discuss your health changes with your doctor, but it can also cause unnecessary worry. Knowing your own body will help you distinguish between normal changes and more serious symptoms.

Pain

Grief is the natural result of loss. In cancer, losses refer to health, sexual desire, fertility, and physical independence. To overcome your pain, it is important to experience all of these feelings. Support groups and psychological assistance can help you deal with these problems.

Depression

It is estimated that 70% of cancer survivors experience depression at some point. Depression can be difficult to diagnose in cancer survivors, since the symptoms are very similar to the side effects of cancer treatment, such as weight loss, tiredness, insomnia, and inability to concentrate. In a 10-year follow-up study, symptoms of depression have been found to be associated with shorter survival, so seeking treatment for depression is essential.

Body Image and Self-esteem

Cancer survivors who have suffered amputations, disfigurements, and loss of organs such as the colon or bladder often have to overcome their problems to relate to themselves and to others. A negative body image and low self-esteem can affect the survivor’s ability to maintain relationships with their partner, which will have important consequences on their quality of life. Good communication is essential to maintain or regain intimacy after cancer. Consult a doctor if problems persist.

Spirituality

Many survivors feel that life takes on new meaning after cancer and renew their commitment to certain spiritual practices or organized religion. Research indicates that spirituality improves quality of life through a strong social support network.

Survivor’s Fault

Some people feel guilty about surviving cancer when others don’t. You may be wondering “Why me?” Or reevaluate your goals and ambitions in life. If you have a prolonged feeling of guilt, a psychotherapist, a member of the clergy, or a support group can help you express your feelings.

Relations

Possibly the biggest challenge cancer survivors face is how others react to their disease. Friends, coworkers, and family members may feel uncomfortable when discussing the diagnosis of cancer. They can keep silent, avoid you, or pretend that nothing has happened. Others may use humor to try to distract you and not think about your situation, instead of offering to talk about your problems. Cancer can be a long-lasting disease, so it is essential to overcome communication barriers.

Social and Work Life

Social and professional reintegration can be accompanied by many fears: concern about being exposed to a higher risk of infection, lack of enough energy to reach the end of the workday and anxiety about not being able to think clearly due to the so-called “neurological impairment by chemotherapy “or memory loss. In overcoming a life and death situation, many cancer survivors feel alienated from people who have not had the same experience and turn to other survivors for support and friendship.

You may be reluctant to reveal to your bosses and colleagues that you are receiving cancer treatment for fear of being treated differently or even losing your job and health insurance. This creates an atmosphere of uncertainty that contributes to emotional stress. Again, honest communication with your colleagues will help you overcome these feelings.

About the author: Diane H. Wong is copywriter at write essay for me service. She is also a professional nutritionist and plans to start her own blog to share her knowledge with others.

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Thyroid Cancer Empowerment Lead

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The drip-drip-dripping of the sink in the radiology room echoed loudly in my brain as I waited for the pathologist. I just had a biopsy done for two spots on my neck—one suspected to be cancerous. “A nodule,” my primary care physician had previously explained at my annual physical. The radiologist had comforted me, casually saying, “I wouldn’t worry, though. There’s only a ten to fifteen percent chance.”

In just a few minutes, I would be given my fate.

In January 2017, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. I met my surgeon five months later. “What you have is called a papillarycarcinoma,” he said. “Doesn’t cancer come from tumors?” I thought. I looked up some terms in the National Cancer Institute’s Dictionary of Cancer

  • Nodule – A growth or lump that may be malignant (cancer) or benign (not cancer)
  • Carcinoma – cancer that begins in the skin or in tissues that line or cover internal organs
  • Tumor – an abnormal mass of tissue that results when cells divide more than they should or do not die when they should. Tumors may be benign (not cancer) or malignant (cancer). Also called neoplasm.

The dictionary helped, but why weren’t these words explained to me by the doctors? It sounded like all the terms were being used interchangeably, and my brain was already feeling corrupted by the diagnosis—I was struggling to comprehend my diagnosis.

My bewilderment grew as I tried to understand how the thyroid hormones, T3 and T4, worked together with thyroglobulin (a biomarker), and the pituitary gland located in the brain. I understood what hypothyroidism vs. hyperthyroidism meant, but only because I knew the symptoms of each, and would be able to tell my doctor if I was experiencing any of them.

I was told by multiple doctors that I had the “good” type of cancer, and I felt hopeless and quite stupid for asking them to repeat what they had just said, or for asking them to explain a term or biological process in a different way.

Coincidentally, I had just started my fourth month of graduate school in a program focused on health communication—one of my first classes was writing for health communicators. That’s where I learned that, as of 2003, when the U.S. Department of Education measured health literacy of various populations across the country

  • Only 53% had intermediate health literacy, or “having the skills necessary to perform moderately challenging activities.”
  • 12% had proficient health literacy, or “skills necessary to perform more complex and challenging literacy activities.”
  • Which means that more than 40% of the population is only able to understand the basics of their health.

It only gets worse for people living in poverty, the elderly, and racial minorities.

So how can we create health literacy equality among all populations?

The answer lies with patient advocacy and patient empowerment.

The doctor-patient relationship has changed significantly—for the better. Where once a patient relied on their doctor for information, to learn about a condition or a symptom, today, patients are finding this information online—and bringing their knowledge to appointments. They’re asking questions about their health and treatment paths. Some are even looking for answers about things that the doctor may not have heard of…yet!  

As a health care professional, are you:

  • Using terms that are patient-friendly or that are at grade level?
  • Using pictures or diagrams to simplify complex concepts?
  • Asking questions to make sure patients understand your instructions?
  • Explaining test results, documents, brochures, etc.?

Most importantly, are you taking the time to listen to the patient’s concerns, and addressing them in a clear, understandable manner?

When doctors and health care providers take time to engage with them, patients feel more empowered to take charge of their health, and to become their own advocates. When the fearful become fearless is when real change happens.

Putting the Human Back in Healthcare

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I recently listened to one of my favorite podcasts, “What Should I Read Next.” The premise of the podcast is the host, Anne Bogel, chats with a guest about their reading life, including three books they love, one book they don’t, and what they’re currently reading. In a recent episode, she spoke with a physician who was about to retire. She said that she had been trying to read more books with different genres, as her main focus for the majority of her life and education had been science-based texts. She grew up in the library reading a variety of books and still tries to educate herself by going to lectures and author talks. However, she was looking for more books that focused on the humanities. HUMAN. Which got me thinking about my background in health communication and my passion for health literacy. I know that one of the many reasons that doctors go into the medical field is because they want to help people. They have a strong sense of empathy and the passion to care for others. However, throughout all of the scientific jargon that they retain and medical knowledge that they gain, they may lose the ability to connect one on one with the patient, to really understand what’s going on behind the aches and pains. Plus, office visits with patients are getting shorter. Doctors don’t have the time to really understand what is going on with the patient before they try and get them in and out to move on to the next. They feel rushed, and as a result, the patient can walk out not knowing what happened. According to the Agency for Health Care Research and Quality, a division of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, poor communication can have a detrimental effect on people’s health. For example, patients may not comply with doctors’ orders because of a lack of understanding. It can also hurt medical practices as patients have the option to leave doctors who they feel do not communicate well and therefore, a lack of trust develops.1

So how can we fix this? Can we emerge communication education into the medical curriculum, including required continuing medical education? Can we focus on the human connection that led these doctors to practice medicine in the first place?

Here are a few suggestions for physicians:

  • Pay attention to the patient though active listening. Repeat back to them what they’re saying to develop an understanding.
  • Use lay-friendly language. Patients come in because they feel sick, something is wrong. Being bogged down with medical jargon isn’t going to help.
  • Use the teach-back method. Have the patient repeat back what you told them.
  • Use pictures of graphics to explain complex concepts.
  • Talk to them about other aspects of their life. It’s not just an illness you’re treating, but a patient with a life outside of the doctor’s office.
  • Show that you have the time to listen even if time is short. Patients know when they’re being rushed.

What do you as a patient want from your doctor? What do you feel is lacking in the patient-physician relationship?

Sources:

  1. https://www.ahrq.gov/cahps/quality-improvement/improvement-guide/6-strategies-for-improving/communication/strategy6gtraining.html

Deceived But Not Defeated

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I never felt any symptoms. I mean, I was tired, but what young 20-something who had just started graduate school while maintaining a full time job wouldn’t be? It happened during a physical. A lump towards the top of my throat was felt by my doctor. “I would go and have that scanned,” he said. I wasn’t worried; he had never mentioned cancer. So I went and had the ultrasound. “Well, we see what your doctor was talking about, and it appears to just be a cyst,” the doctor said, “but there’s another spot on the right side of your thyroid. You have two options. You can wait to see if the spot grows or we can perform a biopsy to see if it’s cancer,” he explained. “Now, the chance of it being cancer is anywhere between 10-15%, a very very low chance,” he reassured me. “I want the biopsy,” I said, not wanting to take any chances. The biopsy was performed, and within minutes, the doctor returned saying he had bad news. “Unfortunately, it’s cancer, but the good news is that it’s very treatable. I recommend you having surgery.” And that was it; although, it hadn’t hit me, at least not as hard as I thought it should had – at least not immediately. I went to my car, called my mom, and asked her if she was sitting down. I told her the news, still shocked by the ordeal I was just handed. In an instant, my life had changed forever. I heard those three words no one ever wants to hear, “You have cancer.”

I wasn’t sure how to proceed. How advanced is my cancer? What doctor(s) do I go to? How quickly do I need surgery? I just started school – do I need to drop-out already? What about my job. All of these thoughts raced through my mind. However, the support of my family and, luckily, not having any symptoms kept me going. I was working in a hospital at the time, and I spoke with a few of the doctors I worked with. “Oh, the good type of cancer. You’ll be just fine,” one said. “‘Good type?’” I thought. What is good about having cancer? He gave me the name of a surgeon who specialized in thyroidectomies. It was a five month wait to get in.

When I eventually saw my surgeon, he gave me two options. The first, he explained, was a partial thyroidectomy. “We’ll only remove the lobe of the thyroid where your tumor is. The benefit of that is that the other lobe will continue producing enough of the hormones that your body needs so you don’t have to take a medication for the rest of your life. The second was a total thyroidectomy, rendering me to that medication, literally, for a lifetime. I went with the former, and had a successful surgery. Of course, it didn’t end there.

Two days after my surgery, my doctor called. “We performed pathology on some of the lymph nodes that we removed from your neck, and unfortunately, almost all of them had cancer. What this means is that we need to have you come back and perform another surgery to remove the rest of your thyroid. Then after, you’ll have to undergo radioactive iodine to rid your body of any residual thyroid tissue.” My heart sunk. My world was crushed yet again. Another surgery? What was radioactive iodine? I didn’t how to process the emotions that I was feeling as tears streamed down my face. “It never ends,” I thought.

After my second surgery, I was thyroid-free. Later, I went through the radioactive iodine procedure where I had to be a specific diet for approximately 3 weeks. I could consume very little to no iodine, or salt, which was essentially in every product. As I went up and down the grocery store aisles reading every nutrition label, I found myself frustrated finding almost nothing that I could eat. Don’t get me wrong, this was a very healthy diet, as I was essentially restricted to meats (without seasonings), fruits, and vegetables. But it wasn’t my favorite. I went to a nuclear medicine center where I consumed a pill that would make me radioactive. I was to stay physically away from people for approximately one week, slowly decreasing the amount of feet I could be within others as each day passed. I then had a whole body scan that showed that the cancer hadn’t spread, or metastasized, to any other place in my body, but there was still some residual thyroid tissue that the radioactivity would hopefully kill.

The journey continued. I would need to be on a medication for the rest of my life. I would need to see a specialist, an endocrinologist, for the rest of my life. They would decide the dosage of my medication based on a variety of factors, including how I was feeling emotionally and physically. It wasn’t until after I had my thyroid removed that I realized how much it does for our bodies. “It will take some time before we find the right dosage for you,” my endocrinologist explained. In other words, sometimes I would be hyperthyroid, other times, hypothyroid. My symptoms may be all over the place, including my metabolism rate, my body temperature, and even my mood. As a patient with chronic depression and anxiety, I could only hope that the “right” dosage would be found quickly.

Fast forward two years later from my diagnosis, and I have been deemed “cancer free,” no more thyroid tissue. While I am incredibly thankful for this result, I can’t help but feel survivor’s guilt. I often think, “Why me? Why did I get to survive and others don’t? How did I get by so easily?” Despite this guilt, I have used my cancer diagnosis and journey to become stronger both mentally and emotionally. I have unashamedly shared images on social media and written stories that have been published in the hopes to inspire others and to be an advocate for those who don’t feel like they have a voice. Yet, I don’t pretend to know everything. I still have questions that remain unanswered. How likely is my cancer to come back? Why do I keep losing so much hair? Why am I always so tired? Despite having the “good” type of cancer, there is nothing that great about it. Although I never had symptoms, I still went through two surgeries and a radioactive iodine procedure, which had its own side effects.

As a result of what I went through and my never-ending passion for helping others, I believe that my diagnosis happened for a reason – to lead me to a career in patient advocacy. I have a background in health administration, policy, and communication. I have worked at doctor’s offices and hospitals. I feel I had an advantage in having the knowledge that I did/do, and access to physicians. However, I still get confused when I ask my doctor a question, and I receive an answer that’s in medical jargon. I think, “I can’t be the only one who feels lost, who feels confused.” Plus, I know that there are patients who are going through worse situations than I did. There has to be a way to mend the physician-patient relationship that is currently suffering. There’s not enough time dedicated to each patient, to hear what they’re going through each day. Physicians also need to make sure that what they’re saying/explaining makes sense to the patient, especially when it comes to taking medication(s) (patients with chronic conditions usually have multiple, which can be hard to keep track). There are solutions coming to the forefront, such as pill packs, patient portals, and support groups. But I believe this is just the beginning. Every cancer is different. No two patients are the same – indifference is ignorance. It’s time to combine research, health literacy, and ultimately, compassion for a patient’s story, to provide the best care and create better health outcomes.