Pink is Not My Color

So, you’re better now, right?

Catherine Guthrie — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 15:05:19 +0000

Folks who get breast cancer, myself included, get this question ALL the time after “active treatment” ends. In the face of this question I stammer and say…”well, it’s complicated.” But thank goodness I have brilliant friends. This is–by far–the best answer I’ve ever seen to a question that is too nuanced and depressing for me to answer on most days. In one fell swoop, my friend summed up what I’ve been wanting to say for the past 2 years. Bless you R (and dear Ro). May she and I enjoy long-standing membership in the 60 percent club.

Truth, Certainty, and Dickinson

Catherine Guthrie — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 17:21:54 +0000

Since my diagnosis, I wrestle with a lot of things. Two biggies are truth and certainty. My cancer diagnosis (x2) and the medical mishaps that followed violently severed every strand of trust that tethered me to my body and to the medical profession (both conventional and otherwise).

I am only beginning to acknowledge the depth and meaning of that loss. To feel deeply unmoored; to physically recoil from scientific evidence presented as “truth” or “fact” is made more difficult by the fact that I am a medical journalist.

Specifically, for the past 15 years I’ve reported on women’s health. I’ve written hundreds of articles on topics such as how to protect yourself from cancer; how to live strong after cancer, how bright light might cause breast cancer, and (my personal favorite) top cancer-fighting supplements.

So here’s my question: How can I continue to write about health in a way that meets my needs and my editors’ needs? How can I embody the voice of authority my editors demand? Expect? How can I continue to participate in and profit from the propagation of a “journalistic certainty” that is deeply disturbing to me?

If anyone has any answers, please let me know.

Until then, I will share an Emily Dickinson poem; if, for no other reason, than to know where I put it. I know nothing about poetry, but last month, when I stepped through the doorway of Dickinson’s home, a perky volunteer handed me the poem below. The poem was in easy-read type on a pale green sheet of paper. The leaflet has floated around my desk every since, daring me to lose it, taunting me with the suggestion that it might contain the answer to my questions. Maybe it does.

Tell all the truth but tell it slant -

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth’s superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind -

Emily Dickinson, 1872

Another Word on Prayer

Catherine Guthrie — Mon, 30 May 2011 14:38:30 +0000

I love words. Words give me hope that I will understand and be understood. Ever since Roger Ebert put his face on the cover of Esquire I knew he was someone I wanted to understand. He is a writer too. I stop by his online journal when I’m in the neighborhood. On the surface, we have little in common, Roger and I, aside from cancer and a love of words.

This morning I was touched by his insight, confidence, and clarity. In an essay about Terrence Malick’s new film The Tree of Life he wrote:

Many films diminish us. They cheapen us, masturbate our senses, hammer us with shabby thrills, diminish the value of life. Some few films evoke the wonderment of life’s experience, and those I consider a form of prayer. Not prayer “to” anyone or anything, but prayer “about” everyone and everything. I believe prayer that makes requests is pointless. What will be, will be. But I value the kind of prayer when you stand at the edge of the sea, or beneath a tree, or smell a flower, or love someone, or do a good thing. Those prayers validate existence and snatch it away from meaningless routine.

We all occupy our own box of space and time. We have our memories and no one else’s.

I am certain of very little, but I do know that I am fully occupying my box of space and time. This awareness of self is a rich and wonderful thing. And, above all else, it is full of prayer. Thanks Roger. Be well.

Let’s get real

Catherine Guthrie — Fri, 13 May 2011 20:55:20 +0000

The poster on the left greeted me in the lobby of my yoga studio this week. It inspired me to make the poster on the right. Since I’m a reporter, I made a couple of calls. Deborah Lattimore, the mighty woman in the photo, was a joy and an inspiration. She gave me permission to use her photo. She took the photo of herself during treatment for breast cancer and uploaded to the interactive feature Picture Your Life After Cancer on the New York Times. She wanted to counter the popular narrative of mastectomy patients looking sad and victimized. Her photo will appear in an upcoming book jointly published by the New York Times and the American Cancer Society. My second call, to the event coordinator at the brewery, didn’t go as well. She said she knows nothing about the poster or the event other than the fact that the brewery donated a keg. (PS. Alcohol increases a woman’s risk of breast cancer.)

Since this poster is woefully short on facts, I thought I’d list a few I gathered yesterday while reporting an upcoming (unrelated) article on breast cancer for a major women’s magazine.

1.5 million=women diagnosed with breast cancer worldwide this year

500,000=women will have recurrences (most will be counted as “cured” because the recurrence is more than 5 years after their initial diagnosis and research only tracks women for 5 years. Of these second-timers (myself included) 1 in 3 will die of the disease.

$3.3 billion=amount spent on mammograms in the US each year

$16.5 billion=annual cost of breast cancer treatment in the US

30=percentage of breast cancers overdiagnosed and overtreated

For every 2,000 women screened…

1 life will be prolonged

10 will be treated unnecessarily

$1 billion=annual amount invested in breast cancer research in the US

830=resolutions and bills with the words “breast cancer” introduced in the US Congress since 1991

91=number of breast cancer drugs under evaluatation by the FDA

0=number of women cured

More than 40 years and billions of dollars have not ended breast cancer. It has, however, created a robust cancer industry that thrives on raising awareness and producing drugs, screening devices, and genetic tests.

(Sources of all stats and end quote: National Breast Cancer Coalition)

It’s time to change the conversation.

Bragg on Survivors

Catherine Guthrie — Mon, 02 May 2011 21:35:32 +0000

Rick Bragg is one of my favorite Southern writers. A Pulitzer Prize winner and former correspondent for the New York Times, Bragg owns one of the most memorable voices I’ve ever heard. Last month, I was reading Somebody Told Me, a collection of his newspaper stories, when I came across his definition of survivor. Although he’s not explicitly referring to breast cancer survivors (a phrase I’ve always disliked), his explanation of why he chose to use the word survivor instead of victim hit home with me:

At first I wanted to call this chapter “Victims,” but that cheapened the people I wrote about. I decided on “Survivors” because so many of the people herein were seized by an outside force, terrified or damaged, and let loose to try and live again. I like these people because of their backbone. I do not mind that some of them became haters. Some of them had a right.

Bugged out to Boston

Catherine Guthrie — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 19:02:01 +0000

At the beginning of January, Mary and I relocated to the Boston area for six months. The change of scenery has been a true gift. That’s a topic for another time…first, I feel like an explanation is in order. Maybe not a big one, but a little one would be nice. I’d like to pin my absence on sheer distraction. And, it’s true. I’ve been caught up in moving, settling in, and exploring an amazing new city. But a chunk of my being AWOL is the breast cancer fatigue that settled over me once I finished “active” treatment. (I don’t know if “active” is an official term or not, but I’m using it to refer to the outrageous stuff, like surgery, chemo, and radiation.) But then I realized that, by not writing about my “passive” treatment, I might be contributing to a common misconception about breast cancer —that treatment ends after the “big” stuff. Unfortunately not even close. Those aggressive, we-need-to-almost-kill-you-before-we-cure-you interventions are just the beginning. For 5 to 10 years post-diagnosis, the majority of us must swallow daily pills and/or receive monthly injections of anti-estrogenics, drugs that deprive our bodies of estrogen. (That’s because most breast cancers cells feed on estrogen and the goal is to starve the little buggers.) But these powerful anti-estrogens have huge repercussions, especially in pre-menopausal women. The list of common side effects includes joint pain, insomnia, fatigue, hot flashes and loss of libido. I’m not sure why I want people to understand that treatment goes on for years and years. Maybe because it’s just too depressing to see the mixture of relief and worry in people’s eyes when they look at me and say, “well, at least it’s over.” The one shitty thing I know for sure about cancer is that it’s not over ’til it’s over.

On Turning 40

Catherine Guthrie — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 16:07:20 +0000

I’ve been dreading this day for as long as I can remember. Three years ago, when Mary brought up the fact that I was closing in on the big 4-0, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, indignant that she would say such a hateful thing. But, after two years of arm wrestling with breast cancer, I can honestly say I’m thrilled to be turning 40. Cancer changed me, whether for better or worse is still to be seen. But it struck me recently when I heard someone say that aging is a privilege not a right. Today, I feel extremely privileged.

Spoke too soon

Catherine Guthrie — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 15:12:42 +0000

Oy, I finished radiation and immediately got walking pneumonia. I know…I’m the luckiest girl you know, right? Apparently radiation to the chest wall makes one more vulnerable to the lung crud. So I hacked myself silly for two weeks, during which time I barely crawled out of bed and had to bug out of some assignments. But, thank goodness, a round of antibiotics did the trick and I’m feeling MUCH better. My immune system needs some serious TLC, but I recovered just in time to go on a hiking trip with Mary and my family over Thanksgiving, so I’m grateful for small favors, as my grandmother used to say, “bigger ones solicited.”

A Day for Pancakes

Catherine Guthrie — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 20:05:15 +0000

Please forgive the silence on my blog these past few weeks. Sometimes the best way to get through cancer treatment is just to shut up and put up. So, that’s what I did. I’m happy to report that I just completed six weeks of radiation (28 treatments in all). This morning Mary took me out for cornmeal blueberry pancakes to celebrate. My energy is excellent. I’m back to writing and teaching yoga. And my hair is almost, well, hair (not fluff). Thanks for being patient with my process and for continuing to hold me in your thoughts.

Day 1: Round 4

Catherine Guthrie — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 12:44:01 +0000

Well, I’ve had a crappy couple of weeks. Chemo is nasty stuff and the inevitable list of nagging side effects (unshakable fatigue, fog, hives, etc…) are getting me down. My body is rebelling and my spirits are flagging. The good news is that today is my last chemo round!!! Mary and I are headed to Indy shortly. Keep your fingers crossed that all goes well and I’m able to cross another treatment milestone off my list.