Trusting My Stage 4 Breast Cancer Body

Martha Carlson received a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer in 2015. Read all of Martha's blogs here!

Cancer has been a part of my life for more than 10 years, and though the first stretch with it mainly had to do with a learning curve so steep that I think of it every single time I hear anyone give a newly diagnosed person advice to “just do this,” or “do that,” the idea that my body had betrayed me soon settled in.

Mostly, I felt and still feel like I couldn’t truly trust my body anymore. I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer when I had just turned 50, and though I was unknowingly suffering from it (extreme fatigue should have brought me to the doctor much faster), I retained confidence with physical activities. I’d always been strong and physically capable, and I couldn’t envision a time when I wouldn’t be. By the time I’d somewhat come to terms with my diagnosis — that “somewhat” is doing heavy lifting there — I had also developed chemotherapy-induced neuropathy in my hands and feet.

Despite consistency with exercise, that neuropathy meant that I am far more careful physically, and over time “being careful” has resulted in even greater distrust of my body. If I fall stepping from grass onto concrete, which happened last year, or drop something breakable because my hand strength has diminished, or any number of other things, I further limit what feels “safe” to do without any precautions.

The upshot: My physical world, and what I can do in it, shrunk.

After my last fall, where I broke both my upper front teeth and had abrasions on my face, I had to go to the ER to be checked for those and have my brain scanned in case of cancer progression. I had to start walking very slowly and watching every little step.

Needless to say, that caution turned into less movement, in a physical activity downward spiral.

Not the first time this has happened with me and cancer or its treatment side effects. Though I don’t trust my body to respond the way someone else’s might, I have learned that I can recover from these low points.

I try to return first to the idea of consistency. If you’ve been living with cancer, you know that it can be an inconsistent and bumpy ride, but what you do to counter that is to figure out what works for you and be consistent in practicing it. Maybe you need to have extra fluids or ask for ice for your mouth; for me, it’s been eating bland foods and very little dairy in the day or so before treatment. I’ve learned to control what I can when it comes to minimizing my worst treatment side effects.

I try to remember and apply that to regaining and maintaining physical confidence. Consistency in doing the exercises I need to do — stretching, strengthening, and sustained aerobics — is key, even though it is difficult to give myself the time I need to actually be consistent. And just like I rely on my oncologist and other doctors when there is a health issue, I listen to the experts about physical fitness. For example, when I fell badly last year, I ended up at both an orthopedic surgeon and a physical therapist. The physical therapist gave me many exercises to do with him and at home, but despite my frustration at limited mobility, it took me two additional months before I did the exercises as prescribed. Once I put the idea of consistency into practice, I began to see progress.

I am still not where I want to be — those months of less activity seem to have an outsize effect when you combine cancer and aging — but I am doing what I can to build more trust in my body’s ability to keep me safe and let me have fun this spring and summer.

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