Breast Cancer Warrior: My Unresearched but Maybe Somewhat Helpful Guide to Dealing with Postpartum Chemotherapy

The adage “If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry” seems pretty applicable when you’re going through a tough time. I think that’s why I tend to lean toward humor whenever I’m faced with a challenge, and it’s typically worked well for me over the years. I realize at the moment I’m going through a double-challenging time. Postpartum can be chaotic and overwhelming, and coupling it with a cancer diagnosis and treatment is, quite frankly, a lot. Still, thinking of the “best medicine” of laughter, I can keep myself feeling relatively normal-ish.

There are some side effects that are sort of tough to tell if they’re from the chemo or from being postpartum. I swear it would be super helpful if there was a how-to guide on the market, like a So You’ve Been Diagnosed with Breast Cancer at the End of Pregnancy and Now You’re Dealing with Chemo after just Having Pushed a Watermelon-Sized Human Out of Your Body: For Dummies.

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It could answer so many questions! Usually my BFF when it comes to quick searches for kid issues and teacher prep materials, Google has been fairly inadequate in addressing issues about my particular cancer diagnosis. Note that I do know Google is certainly not the end-all research tool; I do teach college composition, after all. However, I also know from my work as a teacher that, tragically, most people won’t look much beyond the first page of a Google search result when conducting research, especially casual research to answer immediate questions.

If I find others in my same scenario and compile their insight, maybe I can create this guide. Until then, I’ve decided to go ahead and be my usual somewhat silly self here and share some of my ponderings from treatment during this unusual time. I’ll add where my searches have led me astray, and my own random conclusions:

When your hair is falling out, how can you tell whether it’s that postpartum hair loss or the Taxotere kicking in?

Google’s Search Results: Articles about postpartum hair loss, mainly, as well as a surprising story about a woman who went completely bald postpartum. Mayo’s site about chemo-related hair loss was thrown in, too. (And, of course, some links led to ads for exciting hair implants.)

My Unscientific Answer: If you can make a legit wig (or meal) for your Cabbage Patch Doll with the hair you pull out casually scratching your head, then it’s probably the chemo. If it’s some stray strands falling out with a brush or in the shower, then it’s postpartum. Maybe? I do remember being unhappily surprised with the amount of hair I lost after my second child. 


Scarf and shades = 1960's movie star vibes?

 When you’re dealing with haywire emotions, how can you tell if they’re from the chemo/cancer or from  postpartum hormones?

Google’s Search Results: Lots of links to postpartum depression screenings and women’s blog stories about PPD. Helpful certainly in some scenarios, but not what I need.

My Unscientific Answer: If you grew teary-eyed over that stinkin' adorable Pampers commercial and spent half the night cuddling your new munchkin, it's the "baby blues"; if emotions affect your ability to cope/parent, they may be linked to postpartum depression. If they seem tethered to an extreme annoyance/frustration with cancer, my money's on the chemo.

 Was that bizarre acne attack that I had the week after chemo caused by the chemo itself or a weird combination of postpartum hormones, stress, and the steroids I was given with chemo?

Google’s Search Results: A combination of posts from women dealing with postpartum acne and people who underwent chemo sharing their home remedies for acne. The phrase “natural ingredients” is tossed around quite a bit.

My Unscientific Answer: Jury’s still out on this one. I’m also not sure what fixed it-- the prescription one of the oncologists gave me or my own combination of products I gathered at Walgreens. What I do know is that my face cleaned up quickly but was dry as sandpaper last week-- and the frigid winter air is probably only partly to blame. I do long for spring, though.

Is that horrible neck and hip pain I had the weekend after chemo 100% related to that Neulasta shot that stimulates white blood cell growth in my bone marrow, or was the pain amplified due to the weird hip and spine issues I had during the last trimester of pregnancy? (And, if so, can I have that super helpful D.O. adjust me again?)

Google’s Search Results: Fairly helpful this time around, showing me a list of side effects from Neulasta, including people who experienced hip pain and neck stiffness to varying degrees.

My oncologist and nurses (ah-ha! A trusted resource!): You can go ahead and try an adjustment, but the bone pain will likely still continue to some degree. This seems to be due to the depth, location, and cause of the pain. 

My Unscientific Answer: I’m thinking this is related to the shot mainly, but I’m sure the way my hips and pelvis shifted during pregnancy didn’t help. Just before I was adjusted in December, the doctor showed me how one of my legs was actually two inches shorter than the other due to my pelvic bone’s movement during pregnancy. Intriguing! It certainly explained that gangsta preggo limp I'd developed.

While maybe not terribly credible, perhaps this can be a starting point for others in a similar situation (or simply a little lighthearted, free therapy). I’ll always value laughter and the strength it can lend. Although not directly connected, I’ve always seen a tie between the adage of the importance of laughter and Bible verses about how we humans aren’t of this world so we have to be greater than it. Even if we have a body that feels weak and awfully mortal at times, we also have a soul that can be much more durable than that. So laugh, don’t cry (well, sometimes-- tears are therapeutic, too), and be stronger than you think you can be.