Maintaining your sanity on social media-2

I have practiced psychiatry for almost 20 years. I have helped people learn and understand things about themselves as a profession. Change takes time and patience as well as introspection and willingness.Social media has changed our ways of coping and understanding things so has increased ability to communicate through text and internet.

We are becoming more and more reactive as a society and are generally losing our ability to be patient and focus on things. We are compelled to constantly react to stimuli thrown at us and we are forced to respond in this online life of ours. The actions are immediate and reactions are immediate. We are changing as a whole in how we process things around us and how we respond to them.

We react before we have all the facts , form opinions based on knee jerk reactions. This is leading to great emotional volatility and stress. 

We while we embrace technology must remain aware that we have a choice about what to allow in and what to shut off, what we need to respond to and what we don’t . We still have choice and discretion. Just because it’s accessible doesn’t mean it’s permissible .

It feels like the whole world is losing their mind sometimes and it’s partly because of this ready access to news and ideas and reactions to them in millions.

People get agitated over minor issues and lose their tempers. Because they are emotionally exhausted and spent having used up their resources over issues they barely have control over . 

Like a smoldering ember ever ready to catch fire. Talking about controversial things is charming and exhausting. At the end of the day, if you don’t learn from the discourse , it’s just wasted time.

Swearing like an idiot does not make anyone look dignified! It’s easy to make a fool of yourself by seeking attention but that would fill the void you seek to fill.
Maintain your sanity , don’t react to everything !
Be kind to yourself !

Diet Crazy: A rant


I dream of a pasture of kale with a dusting of quinoa and chia seeds in which I roll in as I swing my long luscious hair in them. There are fountains of pomegranate juice that splash the goodness over me, I lick a drop off of my finger. I wear organic cotton clothes and my T shirt says GMO free, BPA free, free, free , free. I am the free range cancer patient gallivanting through a chemical free world. When I get hungry , I just graze on the kale and spinach near by. The lamb and sheep and chicken run with me since I am this blissful vegetarian and all animals are my friends. I eat only as much as I need. There is a waterfall of carrot juice that I sip from. My world is free of chemotherapy and other nonsense that doctors and big pharma try to push in my world. I have found the cure that they are hiding for their profits.  I run for exercise and I bathe in sunlight. I explore the majesty of nature and embrace the gift of my cancer as I chant “om” over and over again. You must think that this is what my life must become, right? This should be what I should do to “beat” cancer?




Wake up you moron! You need more science in your life!  Is this what you think a cancer patient should be doing?


Seriously for Pete’s sake stop asking me what I eat. Yes I have been diagnosed with cancer twice but it DOESNOT mean that cancer is because of kale or quinoa deficiency. Take your Skinny Trader Joe ass out of my face and move on. I have to go to an appointment. My doctor waits for me, yes that person who actually studied for many years about the intricacies of the human body and actually know a thing or two about how cancers evolve. No, I am not interested in your street corner chiropractic rant about Goji berry juice mixed with some back fixing. Go away, you and your advice . Go take a shower in your noni juice and while you are at it rub some aloe or whatever sick ass herb you think I should be taking.


Go away with your judgmental attitude and thoughts about how I brought this upon my own self and take you and your self occupied interest of why I got cancer, with you. If you want to know, go find a research lab so you can help all of us who are stuck in the cancer world. I am so tired of your questions.


No, cancer does not need body to be acidic or alkaline. Its a myth that has been debunked over and over and again. Our bodies manage the ph of our bodies very effectively on their own.


 Why don’t you take two tablespoons of baking soda every night so you don’t get cancer and or better yet, go soak in some base if you know what that is.


I believe in complimentary care, using mindful healthy eating and exercising and keeping the weight normal.  Believe me cancer patients existed before kale became a thing in the US and still exist after. These dietary fads are just that. There is no empirical data that puts kale at the helm of cancer destruction any more than spinach or collard greens. The idea is to eat a good amount of green leafy vegetables for everyone with or without cancer. Green juice is no magical cure. Anything that 16 I/V chemo infusions could not kill, your stupid kale smoothie wont, it just won’t.


A lot has to be said about good diet and eating in moderation. Smoked and grilled meats are considered to increase cancer risk. A good diet is balanced with good protein, vegetables and fruits.


Unfortunately because I didn’t “beat” cancer and live with stage 4, there will always be some woman who was fortunate with early stage cancer and survived (believe me I am so happy for you) who will keep on pandering her warped ideas about food and diet and people will listen because she survived. And she will never tell you how much medical treatment she did and what medications she took because that does not sell. Only the diet crazy stuff!


Sleeping in my own bed

It is such a nice feeling to be in your own bed. Hospital beds with their crackly plastic pillows and amazingly slippery nature are beds only in name. It feels like they conspire against you to slide you out slowly when you start up top and gradually you are wedging your heals helplessly to not slide down to the foot rest. They can turn a person into a clasp knife with their buttons and you feel like a man eating plant is about to suck you in. Having been in the hospital for three days including one stint of almost 12 hours on an ER gurney has made me appreciate the try blessing ones own bed is. The sheets are soft almost in keeping to your required level of touch and the pillow aren’t trying to create weird angles between your neck and body. I can’t stand superfull round pillows which prop my neck too much. Also because my incision is right on the back of my head it prevents me from lying on my back. So here I am so very thankful warm in my own bed, grateful to have this moment of comfort tonight. There are challenges that lurk in the back ground but for tonight my goal is a good night’s sleep , a luxury many can only dream of.So I submit my self to it gladly and wish you a very good night too.

Uzma Yunus ( Status post craniotomy aka cutting open of the noggin’ on 04/07/2017)

Today I win!

Hello there,
My doppelgänger cells!

The rogue bunch yeah you!

We will find out next week what you are up to but today I win.

Today I win as I celebrate one more rotation of the earth and that time that I had in between the time when it was last here.

I win for a year well lived.

I win for all the things I did.

I win for every day I looked at fear and said ” fuck you”

I win when I hugged the newly diagnosed woman as she wept in my arms and told her she will be okay.

I win because I went to bed in the arms of my loving husband.

I win because my friendships are stronger than ever before.

I win because I am loved.

I win because I made to school every times parents were supposed to go.

I win because despite the hurt, my heart has love beyond any mutation you can possibly create.

I win because I reach out to all.

I win because I make mistakes and I learn from them.

I win because I fall and get up! 

I win because I do cry but then I wipe my tears and then get up and live some more.

Here I am with me and my will and I look and you and all I know is today I win!

The scans, the meds, the side effects, the fears, the grief, the loss and the disability are all part of my life but they are NOT my life.

I am my life, the whole canvas with the beautiful and the ugly.

I am today !

I am today!

A trip to DMV

Who knew a trip to a DMV could create so much emotional turmoil? As I was sifting through the mail two weeks ago, I noticed that the reminder for my driver’s license renewal had arrived in mail and I needed to go in and do my vision screening. I kept the envelope aside as I went through the stack of solicitations, reminders for medical conferences and the latest issues of Psychiatric journals in duplicate. My husband is also a psychiatrist and we receive two copies of everything. And that is a lot of mail.

Today I had nothing on my calendar so I decided that I will go in and get my license renewed before its expiration next month over lapping with my birthday. Birthdays after metastatic cancer are achievements in themselves. Since last year, I can roll out of bed and post on social media, “I got through another day and I am still breathing “and my wall floods with congratulations and support.  Just staying alive has taken on a special role in my life. Before I had to make major accomplishments, receive awards and trophies and then someone would say, “Well done!” and now I say “Look I am standing up” and it is seen as an inspirational statement. Such is life with its ever-changing perspective and appreciation. Being alive every day and living it to the fullest no matter how cliché it becomes remains the center of my universe.

I wear a black shirt since I want to wear something with a collar for the License picture. I remember last time wearing an Ann Taylor suit to the DMV in March 2013. I was a working mom of two kids, 2 and 5 with a part time psychiatric practice recently recertified by the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology. I was fit and fully in the competitive game of life. I remember chatting with the receptionist and her discussion with me about her antidepressants and how much they had helped her. People are willing to share a lot when they find a doctor in social settings. I think she was on Lexapro.

I stand in line looking around the office. A sign says “Senior citizens, Expectant mothers and persons with disabilities” can move in front of the line. I have been an expectant mother and currently a person with disability, a life threatening disability I might add and then I stared at the words “Senior Citizen” which seemed so far away and inaccessible. Even though I get told that I will be the statistic of my own, the median three year survival puts me nowhere close to the senior citizen line, EVER. The gentleman ahead of me is being told by the clerk that he will be 75 soon and will need to repeat a driving test again. As they say old age is a privilege denied to many, I see needing to be alive for another 30 years to be in his shoes. I try and distract myself and look at the people in the waiting area. It’s a busy place, filled with people of all ages and ethnicities. Music is blasting taking the edge of this depressing experience.

I get a number and sit down.  Numbers are being called at the counters and this reminds me of the American consulate in Islamabad twenty years ago.

A young physician, wanting to go to the US and get psychiatric training. Wanting to be the best psychiatrist that she could, clenching her degree from an institution known for its academic excellence and waiting for her turn. Exactly twenty years later, sitting in the DMV, unemployed and disabled, waiting for her vision test. Another form sits on her desk, renewal of DEA number as in her prescribing privileges, a fees of 735 dollars and she contemplated if she should renew it or not.

I look at the infinite number of posters and signs pasted on the wall behind the counters. A poster with a little kids in the cape “Be my superhero, donate an organ today”.  I whisper to myself, I am so sorry, I cannot be your superhero, my dear, and I have cancer. My organs have betrayed my own body, how can they ever be helpful to you?

 I had learned after a discussion with few physician colleagues that those with metastatic cancer cannot be organ donors. Another wave of grief rises and subsides in my heart. I look around, numbers are being called out and people are responding.

A mother walks in with her teenage son and they sit down together barely looking at each other, both on their phones but it appeared that she had brought him for his driving test.  I envied her, sitting next to her son and my heart broke for my children and mentally I created a picture of my son and his father sitting chatting with each other as he waited his turn. I want that turn too, to bring my son and daughter here someday for their driving test. It has been only two days since my daughter and I have been trying to help her ride the bicycle without training wheels.  May be she will remember that too if I am not there to take her for her driving test, maybe she will.

Finally B222 gets called at Counter 7. The pleasant middle aged lady is anxious to get done with me. She sees a healthy young woman standing in front of her. Her questions to me about having a disability or medical condition are a mere formality unknowing how it is my overarching reality. She has no idea that I have metastatic cancer. She quickly checks marks no on all the questions and I ace my vision test. She then asks me if I still wanted to be an organ donor and I meekly reply, I don’t think I can be. She doesn’t bother much to explore that further. She asks me if I was still the weight I was four years ago. I could have explained to her why I am not, why I am carrying the extra menopausal weight and why I am unable to exercise to the fullest but instead I gave her a number that I remain unhappy with, the number at which my Ann Taylor Suit no longer fits.

 She then, asks me to go to the cashier.

It was two days ago that I survived the anniversary of my metastatic diagnosis. My heart still raw from the anniversary reaction. A year plagued by dreams reworked, goals adjusted, pain, scans and heart ache had just ended. I wonder if I will ever be back here to renew my license again. Four years seems a long time.

The cashier is swift and quick and I step up to the Camera waiting area.

I am feeling emotional exhausted by this time. I had not realized how much grief this visit would trigger. Dates and years and expirations have become painful to deal with. Planning the future is illusive, a “what if” follows me in all my plans. I have had stable disease for the last year but I wonder, what if, I wonder, what if.

Holidays and Cancer: some suggestions

A note about cancer and holidays: If you have friends or family who have cancer or had cancer, make sure you treat them extra special. Even those who are done with treatment struggle a lot with energy levels. They may not have the energy to stand in lines at the mall or gift wrap everything nicely. Their gifts might be late or they may resort to just buying gift cards. When cancer strikes , holidays can feel like a burden. If you want to buy them gifts, do consider their situation. Service gifts are excellent like cleaning service gifts, gift certificates to restaurants or their favorite pizza place, hair salon etc. Sometimes, when struggling with energy its hard to deal with handling gifts at all.
Offer to take them out for lunch or breakfast. Offer a day of friendship. Not all gifts are sold at the mall.
Help out with their home, or tree clean up after the holidays.
With cancer, its the gift of time that is most valuable.
Not all cancer patients need cookies and chocolates. A lot of women struggle with weight during cancer treatments. A tower of chocolates or cookies may be the last straw. If in doubt, ask the recipient if there is something they would really like.
If you have them over, be considerate of what they may or may not be able to eat. Again ask if they are having any side effects or food that they can no longer tolerate.
A little consideration and caring goes a long way in strengthening loving relationships.
Many cancer survivors deal with sadness and depression around holidays and fears about the next year. Be patient with them. They may not be feeling the holiday cheer. Don’t push them to feel happy either neither guilt them to feel grateful. Allow them the space to grieve if they need to.
Dealing with Cancer around holidays is complex and exhausting.
All they need is to know that you care and gifts aren’t the only way to show that.
Have a very blessed holiday season.
Uzma Yunus

To the radiologist who was supposed to read my films…

Hi Dr.

You will probably never meet me in person. Your name will be on the bill my insurance receives from the hospital. Your signature will be on the line after the end of report as you mumble report after report into the system. You will never know my story. I am my organs to you, organs will anomalies that you have to squint and sometimes lean back to look for.  You look for lesions and growth and progression on my scan. A body riddled with cancer. It can be quite challenging to look through all the cuts of the CT scan, day after day, hour after hour.

 In each of those films, is a story hidden beyond a 40 some year old woman with metastatic breast cancer. A story that starts a whole month before the upcoming scan appointment when she starts to wonder what her scan will show this time. She pretends to ignore those thoughts because her cancer is incurable. She secretly wishes that everything disappears this time. She looks at her young kids and hopes that your scans aren’t able to see cancer this time. She hopes that her treatment continues to work. She stays up at night and contemplates various scenarios should things change. She wonders if she will see thanksgiving next year. She wonders how many more CT scans she has left in her life time. She wonders if she can just cancel all her appointments and move to another country where she will pretend she didn’t have cancer. She then shakes her head and gets busy.

Then the day before the scan arrives, she is more nervous than usual. Kids irritate her and she loses her appetite. All she can think of is the possibility of her life changing after 24 hours. She wonders if she gets another extension for 3 months on her treatment. She barely sleeps that night. She wonders and thinks.

She gets to radiology and gets a number. She looks at others who look much older and much sicker. She wonders if that would be her in few months. She gets called and is rushed off to the changing room. She wonders if her kids made it to school. She thinks of her husband in the waiting room. She changes into her gown and with her clothes hangs up her control in the locker. She then waits again. Until another rushed technician gives her a vat of barium to drink. She sits and sip the barium listening to Anderson Cooper complain about a mosquito bothering his sleep to Kelly Ripa. She sips some more barium. She tries to cope with the nausea caused by anxiety and barium and wonders when she will get called so she can be done with this ordeal.

She lies down in the scanner. She has an IV in place for which she was poked 3 times and was called a “hard prick”.

She has a pillow under her knees and she is slid into a giant machine in a cold room. She holds her breath when instructed, lets it go when told. She hears the machine and the circular gadget spins around. She is being seen by the technician in the other room, both from inside and outside. She lays as still as possible. Nausea and anxious she lays there.

Then the contrast is pushed and a bolus of heat travels through her body till it hits her lower body and it feels warm as if she just peed in her pants but this is her umpteenth scan so she knows that it is the contrast. She knows also to drink 6-7 glasses of water that day to keep her kidneys flushed. That’s what the nurse told her who put her IV in. She knows that she will later have diarrhea due to the barium she drank and the goddamn mocha flavor has ruined the flavor of her favorite latte for her.

But she does all this. Just to live, to survive metastatic breast cancer with scans every three months. The machine stops. The IV comes out and she is let go. She quietly goes back to the locker and changes tired from this morning of scans. She still has to go to nuclear medicine to get her bones scanned, perhaps another 45 minutes to get scanned. Another machine to make friends with.

Then she goes home and she waits. The clock ticks slowly. She tries to distract herself. She could never decide if the bone scanner moves slowly or her life.

Now it’s more than 24 hours later, she is barely breathing with anxiety. Those who love her also wait. Her life is on hold. She wants to sign up for another art class but not sure if she would be on same treatment or not. She needs to do Christmas shopping but she cant get herself to go out. She needs to sign her kids for classes but isn’t sure how available she will be. She needs to respond to that job offer that came through.

And when she can’t take it anymore, she gets her oncologist paged who is slightly short with her.

It has not been reported by radiology.

She tries to breathe. There is another night ahead of her, while those films sit in your office to be read.

She has cancer, this is her life, and she has to cope.

You must be really busy, you have a life too.

So when tomorrow you look at those lesions, you will at least know what it would mean to her to get her results. You will know what she went through to hear your “impression”. It may be just another scan to read but when you read, she can resume that fragmented thing that she currently calls life.

Please dear doctor, give me my results, my life is on hold.