JudeD59 wrote:I feel ya.
I have one acquaintance on FB who is constantly sending me PM's of grain and nut diets that will cure me. Apparently I need to drink fruit smoothies with grain and crushed nuts and eat several cupfuls of raw almonds every day to cleanse my system of all cancer. I've politely told her that since my temp ileostomy reversal, I can't tolerate nuts and even one fruit smoothie would give me diarrhea for days, but she is ever vigilant in ignoring my reality and continuing to bombard me with advice. She must own stock in the almond companies because I barely know her. Or maybe she owns stock in the butt cream industry because sales would definitely go up if I followed her sage advice. I wonder if I can convince her to switch to Big Carrot for a while just to get her out of her rut? They must have room on their payroll for a go-getter like her!
My sister, whom I love dearly, asks me why I don't drive the four hours to visit as often as I used to. I try to tell her of my post-reversal digestive problems and she interrupts to say that she understands; why, on the occasional rough morning she poops two or three times before she can start her day and it's a nightmare for her schedule. I want to tell her that I have a schedule, too---get up, poop, have breakfast, poop, take a shower, poop, flush, wash hands and just when you thought it was safe to exit the bathroom-back in for another, you guessed it, poop. And on and on all day and sometimes all night, too. But since I would rather not be known throughout the family as She-Who-Must-Always-Poop, I just change the subject.
And when I tell her that my body hasn't rebounded from the chemo and most days I have trouble finding the energy to shower, she says, "I know, right. I babysat my granddaughter for two days last week and you don't know what tired is until you've tried to keep up with her!" I want to say, "Really? Babysitting for two days is more tiring than a bad reaction to chemotherapy? Let's trade places and find out??" Of course I don't say that and I wouldn't really wish this on her or anyone, but I have the most problems with people who don't listen after asking how I am. They hear the first five words and immediately try to top whatever problem I'm having or tell me how they understand because they had (insert relatively minor mildly annoying issue here). "Radiation? I completely understand. I had the worst sunburn a couple of years ago. Hurt for days." "Chemo? I can so relate. I had to take this antibiotic once that made me feel like puking every time I took one." "Loss of appetite? I should be so lucky. I got food poisoning on a trip to Jamaica and lost ten pounds. Best vacation ever! Put it right back on when I got back though." I want to punch them, but I actually just stand there, smile, and nod my head until I can escape.
If someone merely asks, "How are you?" with the predictable sad head tilt necessary while talking to a cancer sufferer, I just say "Hanging in there, thank you. How are you?" and leave it at that. But if they start asking more detailed questions about my recovery, all I want is for them to listen to the answer. Really listen the way I listen while they tell me about their life and issues. I'm not looking for advice, miracle cures, anecdotal tales of people they know who either died from rectal cancer or had a miraculous cure from eating beetle intestines, or for sympathy. I just want them to understand a little better why I have to say no when they invite me places or ask impossible favors from me. I'd like them to understand that it's not as simple as, "The cancer's out, your treatments are over, time to get back to your pre-cancer life! Let's go!" The cancer leaves issues, the surgeries leave issues, the treatments leave issues, and the mental stress leaves issues. Give me time and space to deal with those issues and if you don't want to really listen to the description of those issues, don't ask. Just smile when I say I'm hanging in there and leave it at that.
As for Big Carrot, I've had a lot of really, really rough nights perched atop my Squatty Potty since my reversal, but the absolute worst one, the one I will always remember, was after I decided to introduce a couple of raw carrots into my diet and see how it went. It felt like I swallowed a couple of live lobsters whole- shell, claws, the whole kitten caboodle- and they were trying to fight their way out. If eating carrots is the only way to prevent a recurrence, I'm doomed. I'm not hosting another lobster heavyweight bout in my intestines. I'd rather drink a fruit smoothie full of almonds.
One last chapter to this novel-- The first question I asked my top-rated colorectal surgeon when he told me it was cancer was, "Could I have prevented this?" and he said, "No, there was nothing you could have done differently that would have kept this cancer from growing in your body." So any attempts by well-meaning individuals to blame me for getting this sucky, sucky disease go in one ear and out the other. I don't have time or patience for the blame game. I'd much rather work on getting healthy in the future than beat myself up over what I should or shouldn't have done in the past. But that's just me.
Judy-who will never be a victim of Big Carrot again!
JudeD59 wrote:As for Big Carrot, I've had a lot of really, really rough nights perched atop my Squatty Potty since my reversal, but the absolute worst one, the one I will always remember, was after I decided to introduce a couple of raw carrots into my diet and see how it went. It felt like I swallowed a couple of live lobsters whole- shell, claws, the whole kitten caboodle- and they were trying to fight their way out. If eating carrots is the only way to prevent a recurrence, I'm doomed. I'm not hosting another lobster heavyweight bout in my intestines. I'd rather drink a fruit smoothie full of almonds.
Utwo wrote:JudeD59 wrote:As for Big Carrot, I've had a lot of really, really rough nights perched atop my Squatty Potty since my reversal, but the absolute worst one, the one I will always remember, was after I decided to introduce a couple of raw carrots into my diet and see how it went. It felt like I swallowed a couple of live lobsters whole- shell, claws, the whole kitten caboodle- and they were trying to fight their way out. If eating carrots is the only way to prevent a recurrence, I'm doomed. I'm not hosting another lobster heavyweight bout in my intestines. I'd rather drink a fruit smoothie full of almonds.
Judy, how many months after your reversal have you tried to eat these two carrots?
By that time have you already started with carrot juice and grated carrots?
Have you started right away with two carrots or already tried to eat just a small part of a carrot?
JudeD59 wrote:I feel ya.
I have one acquaintance on FB who is constantly sending me PM's of grain and nut diets that will cure me. Apparently I need to drink fruit smoothies with grain and crushed nuts and eat several cupfuls of raw almonds every day to cleanse my system of all cancer. I've politely told her that since my temp ileostomy reversal, I can't tolerate nuts and even one fruit smoothie would give me diarrhea for days, but she is ever vigilant in ignoring my reality and continuing to bombard me with advice. She must own stock in the almond companies because I barely know her. Or maybe she owns stock in the butt cream industry because sales would definitely go up if I followed her sage advice. I wonder if I can convince her to switch to Big Carrot for a while just to get her out of her rut? They must have room on their payroll for a go-getter like her!
My sister, whom I love dearly, asks me why I don't drive the four hours to visit as often as I used to. I try to tell her of my post-reversal digestive problems and she interrupts to say that she understands; why, on the occasional rough morning she poops two or three times before she can start her day and it's a nightmare for her schedule. I want to tell her that I have a schedule, too---get up, poop, have breakfast, poop, take a shower, poop, flush, wash hands and just when you thought it was safe to exit the bathroom-back in for another, you guessed it, poop. And on and on all day and sometimes all night, too. But since I would rather not be known throughout the family as She-Who-Must-Always-Poop, I just change the subject.
And when I tell her that my body hasn't rebounded from the chemo and most days I have trouble finding the energy to shower, she says, "I know, right. I babysat my granddaughter for two days last week and you don't know what tired is until you've tried to keep up with her!" I want to say, "Really? Babysitting for two days is more tiring than a bad reaction to chemotherapy? Let's trade places and find out??" Of course I don't say that and I wouldn't really wish this on her or anyone, but I have the most problems with people who don't listen after asking how I am. They hear the first five words and immediately try to top whatever problem I'm having or tell me how they understand because they had (insert relatively minor mildly annoying issue here). "Radiation? I completely understand. I had the worst sunburn a couple of years ago. Hurt for days." "Chemo? I can so relate. I had to take this antibiotic once that made me feel like puking every time I took one." "Loss of appetite? I should be so lucky. I got food poisoning on a trip to Jamaica and lost ten pounds. Best vacation ever! Put it right back on when I got back though." I want to punch them, but I actually just stand there, smile, and nod my head until I can escape.
If someone merely asks, "How are you?" with the predictable sad head tilt necessary while talking to a cancer sufferer, I just say "Hanging in there, thank you. How are you?" and leave it at that. But if they start asking more detailed questions about my recovery, all I want is for them to listen to the answer. Really listen the way I listen while they tell me about their life and issues. I'm not looking for advice, miracle cures, anecdotal tales of people they know who either died from rectal cancer or had a miraculous cure from eating beetle intestines, or for sympathy. I just want them to understand a little better why I have to say no when they invite me places or ask impossible favors from me. I'd like them to understand that it's not as simple as, "The cancer's out, your treatments are over, time to get back to your pre-cancer life! Let's go!" The cancer leaves issues, the surgeries leave issues, the treatments leave issues, and the mental stress leaves issues. Give me time and space to deal with those issues and if you don't want to really listen to the description of those issues, don't ask. Just smile when I say I'm hanging in there and leave it at that.
As for Big Carrot, I've had a lot of really, really rough nights perched atop my Squatty Potty since my reversal, but the absolute worst one, the one I will always remember, was after I decided to introduce a couple of raw carrots into my diet and see how it went. It felt like I swallowed a couple of live lobsters whole- shell, claws, the whole kitten caboodle- and they were trying to fight their way out. If eating carrots is the only way to prevent a recurrence, I'm doomed. I'm not hosting another lobster heavyweight bout in my intestines. I'd rather drink a fruit smoothie full of almonds.
One last chapter to this novel-- The first question I asked my top-rated colorectal surgeon when he told me it was cancer was, "Could I have prevented this?" and he said, "No, there was nothing you could have done differently that would have kept this cancer from growing in your body." So any attempts by well-meaning individuals to blame me for getting this sucky, sucky disease go in one ear and out the other. I don't have time or patience for the blame game. I'd much rather work on getting healthy in the future than beat myself up over what I should or shouldn't have done in the past. But that's just me.
Judy-who will never be a victim of Big Carrot again!
Maggie Nell wrote:A thread on the same theme that was prepped circa 2013
viewtopic.php?f=1&t=43511
inorganic8 wrote:I don't know how this site feels about thread resurrection, but I just had to share some more venting. My DH is now in hospice, and is resting comfortably. For that I am grateful. However, it is still amazing the things people think are ok to say to me right now.
It is truly amazing what people think is "helpful."
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