This friday, our family went to a Halloween Spooktacular. We go to it every year. Its always busy and crowded with little kids in costumes and stressed out adults trying to keep up with the frenzy. There are jugglers and clairvoyants and men on stilts. Its the best place little kids can be.There are pumpkins and straw bales and a haunted house. Perfect set up.

As my kids were collecting candy, my daughter handed me a packet of candy to open. It was a yellow packet with the words in blue “Lemon heads”, and suddenly I heard the chemo nurses voice, “Can I get you some juice or cracker”, “why dont you try these “lemonheads” they should help with the nausea”.

Yes, the little tart lemon shaped candy was my savior last year. However, in my mind Lemonheads will be associated with chemotherapy for the rest of my life. I suffered through incredible amout of nausea during chemotherapy. All the blessing of the part in the brain called the “chemorecepter trigger zone” being so brand spanking and unused. Being a non smoker and non drinker without any history of sleep medication use, my brain was hyperactive when it came to generating nausea. It did not let me forget that I had had chemotherapy.

The AC cycles were excruciatingly nauseous. I would typically vomit for a good half of the night and stay nauseous for about a week after it. I ate Zofran like candy but to no avail. Finally after two cycles from hell, I asked my oncologist, if something could be done differently.

She said “Why don’t we try Olanzapine?”. I stopped dead in my tracks, as a psychiatrist, I know very well what Olanzapine is. Olanzapine is an antipsychotic medication that is used to treat illnesses like Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder. I have prescribed it. I know all the side effects and effects. Is she talking about that Olanzapine?

I asked her again, “You mean Olanzapine (Zyprexa)?”.

She said, “Yes” “there is good data, why don’t you look it up?”

Of course, as a Doctor, she knew i would,

I read the paper myself. It was convincing , it could help.

I send my oncologist a message saying I am willing to take it. But I told her the dose I was willing to take.

I needed to maintain some control. It was humbling enough that I was just prescribed an anti-psychotic medication. The one that I prescribe to others. Tables have turned. I am the patient now. Cancer allowed me the opportunity to connect viscerally with those that I treat.

A few days ago, a patient was ranting and raving in my office, “Doc you don’t know what being on these medications is like…..”

I smiled and empathized with his frustration.

Lemonheads, olanzapine, zofran, whatever it takes, you need to fight with whatever it takes, thats what fighting cancer is. Humbling and strengthening, all in one.

Toxic Pink:

The more time I spend as the recipient of health care or as a” patient”the more I realize the impact of the people that provide health care.
The value of human interaction, the importance of kind conversations, the willingness to listen and make time, the effort to make the patient feel comfortable and an equal partner in what is being done to them.
My recent interaction with a mammography technician is a great example of this. Of course this is October and a lot of women are being prompted to do mammograms, after all, that’s what most women equate it to…I need to do a mammogram so I don’t get cancer or its caught early.
The center for Breast Death as I call it is also splattered in pinkness and pinkification since it’s the fountain of pink in the hospital.
The suite is decorated with different words such as faith, hope etc. One statement that caught my eye was “hair is so overrated”, not sure which genius thought that putting this up was a good idea.
Hair is overrated? Perhaps having two breast is over rated too, you could live with one or none? Are they over rated too? Sometimes ridiculous accompanies pink.
To aggravate further, the staff was wearing neon pink t shirts. Three cheers for awareness and especially for the lady that had a fake pink lock in her hair just to make the point.
There is a difference between promoting awareness and making a show of pink. There is a thing called dignity and grace that should accompany the ” Operation Pinkify”
A lot of people don’t know how to walk this thin line. They have not seen pink closely. Some have but want to keep it light and bubbly, sort of an upbeat thing, like there is anything upbeat about cancer and yes ” hair is so overrated”. Try being bald for 6 months, may be the rating will improve.
So amidst that sea of pink, I arrive to get a mammogram for odd swelling in my right breast ( the one breast that is still alive). The waiting room is full of anxious women, as if they are being strangled by the pink ribbon. Sometimes I feel sorry for them, since they are in fear of what a mammogram might show, for me, the worst has already come true so I find my self generally more relaxed.
I get called in and am escorted by a technician whom I am not familiar with. She is shuffling though papers as she takes me in.
She looks at me and says” You had a mammogram on your right breast three months again, only one side..and now you want another one just one the right side”.
Thank you pink, thank you awareness, thank you for your decorations and t shirts and the pink bears but are you really aware what breast cancer does to a woman? That it is possible that if you remove your pink goggles and read the form I filled out that I have only one breast, thanks to breast cancer, yes that cancer that your neon pink shirt and your Pepto-Bismol colored reception area indicates?
I found myself feeling angry and sad simultaneously.
I responded, “I have only one breast, I can have only one side done”
Yay for awareness, Yay for pink.

It’ on the bottle, it’s on the caps,
It’s on the box and on the socks,
It’s on the shower gel,
and the napkins too.
It’s everywhere,
and it’s so true,
we all need to know
we need be aware
the real life scare
that you and I share.

It is all around
a lump has been found.
The cutting,
the treating,
the constant torment,
the reminder for some
a mockery to others.
Some are living it
some have lived it
some are pink
some pink and blue
some hate it
some really do.

The ribbon reminds
what I don’t forget.
It aches my heart
when I look at the threat,
to know its October
that may be you are next,
maybe you are not.
I have had my turn and
I hope you do not.
So take your time
and be aware
we care
without the fanfare
we share
so you don’t
have to hate pink
like some of us do.

I walk forward
I march ahead
I try hard each day
Then again someone will ask
“Didn’t you have long hair before?”
I did , I did 
A before and an after
There always will be.
I console my self
I seek comfort
Sometimes I lie
And hide from the truth.
Pretend it never happened,
Pretend it was never there,
Then again someone will ask
” didn’t you have long hair before?”
I did , I did
A before and an after
There always will be 
Life expects more
More from us than others
Bravery, courage, right attitude
Every day 
We are different
A tangent that our lives
Have taken
In and out of the flow
Pretending
To be
One of them until
Some one will ask again
“Didn’t you used to have long hair”

“Some Days”

Suppress the fear
Hold on to hope
Distract yourself
It works, sometimes
It works some days
but some days I get flaky
and sad and angry too.
Uzma Yunus

Its time go again:
A tribute to my sisters undergoing reconstruction

The OR is ready,
the sheets are clean and crisp,
He is scrubbed and gloved,
Slow music in the back ground,
the masks are on,
The monitors are anxious
the I/V is expectant,
All over ,once again.
It’s time to go.

And you, on the gurney,
ready to count,
till your sleep connects you to them,
quiet hours,
slow breathing,
pain and grogginess,
All over, once again,
It’s time to go.

I am trying,
again and again,
to undo what I didn’t ask for,
All I want,
is to feel whole,
whole again,
like I was,
It’s time to go.
It’s time to try
and to regain
a fraction of what was lost,
I am ready,
I am ready,
I am ready to count,
I am ready to endure the pain,
Ready to be whole again.