When Food Is No Longer Fun

 

Getting your nutrition when you have cancer.

Food is a tricky venture when you have cancer. You have to eat, and you want to get your nutrition, but sometimes nausea gets in the way, or exhaustion, or food just doesn’t taste right. All you want is something you can keep down that is at least a little bit interesting. Sipping bone broth may be nutritious, but I think it’s an acquired taste.

On a recent “Thrivers” Substack post, Dr. Sharon Heng talked about the importance of the diet when you have cancer. She says that what we eat and drink “influences our metabolic health, insulin signaling, inflammation, immunity, gut microbiome, and so much more.” She’s a medical oncologist and says that ‘diet is a major pillar of good cancer care.’

Red Curry Chicken

 

Some years ago, my wife Evelyn died in her forties from an undiagnosed heart problem. My friends Molly and Francesco would do much to keep me going, including inviting me to share meals with them. One evening, I invited them over to try the red curry chicken recipe I had been working on. Two years later, Molly’s experimental chemotherapy would stop working, and she would die of brain cancer. 

Today The Loch Raven Review published my account “Red Curry Chicken.” You can read it at this link: https://thelochravenreview.net/mark-liebenow/

Graphic Cancer

 

Marisa Acocella (Marchetto), breast cancer, comics

I sometimes forget how much drama there is in the trauma of cancer. And it’s nonstop with Marisa Acocella. I’m impressed by how well her graphic comics convey the total experience of going through treatments for breast cancer, all the side thoughts and minor details penciled in along the main thought bubbles that are often left out in a straight forward narrative. 

There is such fullness when they are added in, and there’s power when words are paired with images and facial expressions. Take a look at Maus, the graphic novel about the Holocaust by Art Spiegelman.

Dancing With Cancer In a Monastery

 

The grace of solitude.

Last week I went to Gethsemani Monastery in Kentucky. Traveling to an austere Trappist monastery might seem an odd decision because I’m not Catholic, but the week of solitude helps me imagine what my life is going to be like if/when my cancer is no longer detectible.

One reason for going is that Thomas Merton lived here when he wrote the words that have guided my life for a long time. He helped me accept that periods of being alone are needed to understand my struggles. I’m hoping that being quiet and listening for five days will calm my monkey mind and help me discern what I want to do with the life I have left.

The Curious Case of the Man Whose Cancer Couldn't Be Found

 

Thomas E. Kennedy, prostate cancer, maybe

It’s hard to find a man who writes about his prostate cancer in any detail. Writing about it with humor is an added bonus.

Thomas Kennedy’s essay, “I am Joe’s Prostate,” is funny because it plays to the insecurities and embarrassment that men feel being naked in front of a female nurse and trying to urinate into a small pot. Having probes inserted into intimate parts of your body doesn’t preserve much modesty. Kennedy’s journey began when his wife said he pissed “like an old man.” So off he goes to see the doctor and find out what’s going on. 

The Trauma Dragon of Cancer

 

Suffering is physical, emotional, and mental.

Having cancer is extremely stressful. If you’ve had cancer, you know this in your bones. If you haven’t, then while you suspect this is true, you don’t have a “feel” for how extensive it is. 

It doesn’t matter what cancer treatments we had, none of them are easy, and they leave permanent marks on us physically, emotionally, and mentally — the nausea, the debilitating pain, the feeling of being torn inside. While many of the details will fade over time, the harder ones are tattooed on our skin and engraved in our minds. Sometimes flashbacks wake us up at night.

Cancer is One Heck of a Whale

(whale sculpture by Preston Jackson, made out of recycled plastic bottles)

 Jessica McGhee, cancer artist

Having cancer is enormous. Like a whale. I picked up this image from Jessica McGhee when she spoke to my cancer support group. She began collecting the medical items from her cancer treatments — the bandages, elastic wraps, gauze, oncology name tags, and so on. The mound of this physical entity kept growing, and she started playing with it until it took on the form of a mishappened blue whale that is eerily beautiful and poignantly accurate. 

Writing the Grit of Cancer

 

Writers With Cancer, part 1

As you would expect, people who write for a living are going to write about their cancer, although this is not always the case. One evening while doing research online, I found a list of poets, novelists, essayists, and nonfiction writers. I know there are many more writers to discover and realize that this beginning list has only contemporary ones. There are also writers throughout history to discover who wrote their own cancer accounts.

Polite Doesn't Butter My Muffin

 

Being honest about our cancer.

After you discover you have cancer, it’s a daily dilemma about how honest to be when people ask how you’re doing. Saying “I’m fine” shares nothing of value. Being polite gets you none of the affirmation of a high five or the empathy of a long, warm hug.

Lyrical Prostate

 Ifor Thomas, prostate cancer

Why should you care about Ifor Thomas if you don’t have prostate cancer? Because in this space we are a cancer support community. We care about each other’s journey with different kinds of cancer, and we seek to be supportive. To listen to what the others in our group are going though strengthens our bonds with each other and increases our understand of what cancer takes away from us and what it brings.