Becky MacK Goes to Washington

        Every year, in the United States, more than one million people are diagnosed with cancer and every year, more than 500,000 people die of cancer.  That is one big ball of stunning, unbelievable and scary to say the very least.  Those facts shouldn’t just scare you, though; they should catapult you into action.  When I was diagnosed with Medullary thyroid cancer and learned that there was no cure for my disease, suddenly whether or not clinical trials would be funded was important to me.  Suddenly, my priorities consisted of things like making sure that treatments and healthcare would be available when I needed them.  The National Institute of Health, comprehensive cancer centers and new drug developments became my central focus. 

That is why I involved myself with the American Cancer Society Cancer Action Network (ACS CAN).

 ACS CAN works with lawmakers to ensure that cancer is a national priority.  The organization works every single day advocating for public policies in the United States that are helping to put an end to cancer and cancer disparities.    More importantly to me, the organization gives me a loud, powerful and effective voice.  ACS CAN gives me knowledge in the land of cancer legislation keeps me up to date on the latest laws that affect cancer patients across the United States.  ACS CAN gives me options when my cancer tries to take them away.

  On Tuesday, September 10^th, 2013, I joined ACS CAN’s staff and volunteers in Washington, D.C.  Together, we covered our capital building in a sea of blue ACS CAN shirts and advocated, educated and told our stories.    A total of 450 volunteers, including 256 cancer survivors attended 463 meetings with lawmakers, demanding that cancer be seen as a national priority.  I was fortunate enough to be a part of this important lobby day and very loudly and proudly represented Florida’s 19^th Congressional district.  Together, we asked for lawmakers to consider three things:

First, we asked lawmakers to replace funding for cancer research that was taken away when the sequestration occurred.  Specifically, we asked that funding for the National Institute of Health and the National Cancer Institute to be restored and for continued funding for both cancer prevention and early detection at the Center for Disease Control.  I am living with a type of cancer that does not have a complete, systemic cure and this funding is essential for people like me because we depend heavily on cancer research and clinical trials.  Less funding means less research, less drug development and less hope for my cure.  Less funding means limited access to clinical trials.  Less funding means less lives are saved.  I will not accept that.  It’s time for less cancer and more funding, research and options. 

Second, we asked lawmakers to support legislation that encourages palliative care or quality of life, something that has been proven to decrease healthcare costs and improve the quality and length of life in cancer patients.   When I met with members of Congress, I explained to them that cancer comes with physical pain, nausea, anxiety and emotional distress.  Palliative care involves addressing the needs of the whole patient, not just the disease and, while palliative care does involve things like hospice and end of life care, it doesn’t begin there.  Medical professionals make use of palliative care at the beginning of a patient’s diagnosis and continue with it during treatment.  Every cancer patient has the right to be free of pain and nausea and to have his/her entire self treated.

 I will never forget laying in an MRI scan for over an hour.  I was required to lie completely still the entire time, but all I did was worry and cry.  I knew that the radiologist was looking for tumors and I panicked at the thought.  I couldn’t stay still and as I sobbed, my entire body shook.  Because I was moving so much, we had to repeat the procedure the following week.  This time, the nurse offered to give me something to calm down and rest before the procedure began.  Repeating the procedure unnecessarily cost both me and the hospital more money.  Had someone addressed my emotional needs the first time, it not only would have saved money, it would have helped my anxiety and saved time.  That is palliative care.  Yes, we need to treat the cancer, but we also need to consider every other aspect of a cancer patient’s experience. 

Finally, we requested that Congress increase the federal cigarette tax by 94 cents.  An increase in the federal cigarette tax has been proven to deter youth from smoking and decrease healthcare costs.  I recently learned that for every pack of cigarettes a smoker purchases, it adds $10.47 to the United States economy.  Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, good comes from smoking a cigarette or using any type of tobacco product.  

  It isn't just research that is going to help find cures for people like me.  It is also the public policies that allow for the implementation and funding of that research.  Know what’s happening in your community.  Demand that your lawmakers at the local, state and federal levels are paying attention to their constituents, people that are affected by this disease every single day.  Let’s hold them accountable.  I know I will.

Don't Tell Me it's Good

Hypothyroidism, biopsies, scanxiety, hair falling out, tumors, hypocalcemia, medical bills, incurable.  It's cancer.  Don't tell me it's good.

Here's to the Good Stuff

I hate cancer. I wish it would be completely annihilated and the only thing I have wished cancer on is cancer itself. I never, ever want to say anything good about such a vile, invasive, life-stealing disease. I do, however recognize that there are things that have come out of my situation that are actually really positive. I’d like to take some time to recognize those thing and I have listed them below. Here’s to the good stuff, the good life and the things that cancer has done to me that have made me better.

1. Opening my eyes - In some ways I used to be so blinded by life, so caught up in the he said, she said, I have to have name brand clothing, material matters kind of world. As cliche as it may sound, none of that stuff matters. Really. It doesn't. My eyes are wide open and I can see that now.

2. Showing me that I can do ANYTHING - Yes,anything. The emotional turmoil of a cancer diagnosis was almost too difficult for me to process. The sudden sickness I felt when I heard the words, "you have cancer" made my spirit drown in a sorrow that I never imagined. That in itself was something I never thought I would have to overcome. But I did. Since then, I have become more adventurous and willing to try anything. I test my limits all the time and I have a long list of things I want to accomplish. And I will.

3. Showing me how to love - I was never a touchy-feely type of person. Hugging was awkward and saying I love you was weird. I wasn't raised in that type of a household and I rarely told the people I love exactly how I felt. That. Has. Changed.

4. Revealing my true passions - I don’t think I was ever truly dedicated to anything until after my cancer diagnosis. I think cancer makes you do a double take, or even a triple take and say “what am I really doing with my life?” That has turned out to be a really incredible thing for me. Passion is poetry in motion. It is the things I love all balled into one and creating an upbeat motivated lifestyle. Whether I’m raising funds for cancer related causes or running my heart into sunset I know that I’m doing it because I feel passionate about it.

5. Teaching me to dance through life – Yes. Dance. I’m not all about waking up on Monday morning and wishing it would go away anymore. I’m about embracing it and dancing through the day. We have all heard the phrase, “enjoy every day because you never know if it will be your last.” People say it all the time. But do they really do it? And do they comprehend the fact that someday we will all have a last day?

6. Reminding me to breathe – Do you breathe fully? Do you allow your mind to relax and take in the air around you? I do. Paying close attention to the way I am breathing has taught me so much about myself. I never realized how much panic I was causing myself in the past until I took the time to slow down, breathe in for five, hold and breathe out for five. Breathing helped get me through my diagnosis, the nerve wracking scans and the anxiety that tagged along. Breathing changes everything and I continue to use breath control in every part of my life.

7. Connecting me to the most amazing people on earth – The first thing I did when I was diagnosed was hunt down every single cancer survivor that I could find. I wanted to talk, vent, cry and physically see people surviving and thriving. I am glad that I did because I have been in the company of some really breathtaking individuals. I know amputees that are training for marathons and half marathons, people were not supposed to survive and did, survivors that remind me every day that we must continue to fight. There is always someone in my corner and for that I am beyond grateful. I am never lonely. Ever.

8. Giving me permission to feel sorry for myself every once in a while – I think lots of us put on a façade. We want to feel and be strong, no matter what. Cancer has taken me on a road full of potholes that I thought would never end. It has beaten my spirit down into a place called self pity time and time again. In some ways I think that’s been a good experience for me. I don’t think we ever reach our full potential until after we’ve been knocked down a few times. I know now that feeling blah about my situation and allowing myself to grieve is a totally acceptable and normal experience.

9. Letting me see the power in something like a good song - Power in a song? Yes, of course. After my cancer diagnosis, a fellow survivor emailed me some Youtube videos that helped him with his experience. Sharing both his experience and the music that helped him endure it was therapeutic. It was music that altered my mood at some of my low points. It is music that pushes me when I’m in the middle of a long distance run and all I want to do is quit. It is what I call “feel good” music that makes me think about the good stuff.

10. Showing me LIFE - Life isn’t just living. It isn’t just breathing and getting through the day. It isn’t waking up in the morning, going to work and going to bed at night. Life is the sunrise on the way to work, the people you interact with at at work, the relationships you form throughout the days and making sure to say I love you to the people that make your heart feel good. That’s life. And I can thank cancer for showing me that.

Running is Living

Simple sentences sometimes tell complex stories. One such sentence says so much about the life I have lived for the past two years and the life I will most likely have to live for as long as I’m around. My story goes like this: I am living with cancer.

I was born with a genetic disorder called Multiple Endorcine Neoplasia 2A, but I wasn’t properly diagnosed until I was 28 years old. This disorder consists of tumors of the endocrine system, particularly on the thyroid and adrenal glands. On a cold February day I received results that would not only change my life completely, but would take the living breath out of my soul in that very moment. I tested positive for Medullary Thyroid Cancer, the main component of my genetic disorder. Two words from the oncologist’s mouth spun around in my head: cancer and incurable. With no medicinal cure to date we took advantage of my only option and I underwent a nine hour neck surgery to remove my thyroid and forty seven lymph nodes. The doctors removed as much of the cancer as they possibly could, but they were unable to remove all of it.

That was two years ago and today we play what is called the watch and wait game. I have been knowingly living with cancer since then. I was unknowingly living with cancer before then. I didn’t look sick five years ago, I certainly don’t look sick now and for the most part I’m really not that sick. Scientifically, though, I guess you could say I’m sick. Technically, I suppose. I try my best not to label myself as sick, but I am reminded of my disease with every scan, needle poke and doctor visit. This is my new life: Living with cancer.

Not all things that have stemmed from my cancer have been completely horrible. As a matter of fact, some things have turned out very well. I take my time more often, I watch the sun set every night, I think sunrises are amazing, I am more aware of life around me, I take better care of myself than I ever have before and I try to have fun, lots and lots of fun. I am involved in the cancer community, physically active, motivated and confident. I truly don’t “sweat the small stuff” and there isn’t a whole lot that gets me down. These are all wonderful things. They are simple things, like sand between my toes, but they are wonderful things.

The best thing that has happened to me is running. Yes. Running. It’s invigorating, empowering, meditative and so full of flaws that it’s perfect. There is nothing more revealing about yourself than a good run that leaves you with only your very own thoughts. Believe me: when I run, I sort out problems that I never knew I had. There is nothing more captivating than the very world that we live in as I explore it on my own two feet. It’s like watching life happen all around you, but it happens at your own pace.

There is nothing more satisfying to me than tearing out of the house at dusk and pushing myself beyond any limits I ever thought I had. Cancer does that. It can make you want to run around the world and see what you can do with yourself. And, in a way, running helps me put the sentence, “I am living with cancer” to work. To me, the words running and living are interchangeable. While the cancer may try to put some limits on my life, running helps to make some of those limits disappear. I plan to keep on running. After all, running is living and living is running.