Thursday, January 31, 2013

Preventative Measures

Song of the Day: M.L.K. by The King's Singers. (Last time I listened to this, I got visible goosebumps.)

Whenever I tell people I'm a student, one of the next questions is inevitable: what degree/major? I tell them cytotechnology. Then most people give me a confused look. Some can tell it has something to do with cells, but usually I end up giving a quick explanation. Even I hadn't heard of the area eighteen months ago, so I understand completely. There's only about 25,000 cytotechs in the US, so not very well known.

So here it is: whenever someone gets a routine cancer screen done (the Pap smear, mostly), they put that cellular material onto a slide or into a vial of fixative solution and send it to the pathology department of the hospital (or for smaller hospitals and clinics, either to a larger hospital or private lab). The sample is put onto a slide if it hasn't already been done, stained, and sent to us, the cytotechs. We techs screen the slide for anything unusual: not just cancer, but also infections and wrong hormonal patterns. If we diagnose anything as pre-malignant, we send those slide(s) to the pathologists, who do the final diagnosis and sign-out. We are essentially decreasing the pathologist's workload (believe me, they have a lot). We also have a quick stain and a microscope on a cart that we take to accompany the docs on fine needle aspirations, or FNAs (sticking a hollow needle into a mass to sample it) to make sure they get adequate samples, and to tell them what kind of fixatives to use and procedures they should do based on what we see.

On another important note, I must make myself sound really dorky here: I read Reader's Digest (what? young people read that?). A lot of the articles I see pertain to cancer and its treatment. Problem is, a lot of times, they tend to almost argue against its treatment. One recent article pondered how necessary it is to treat carcinoma in situ, or CIS (basically cancer, but not invasive), because they don't know how many cases actually progress into cancer. Another lamented about the number of cancer survivors that come down with another type of unrelated cancer due to their past chemotherapy and/or radiation. And their health section more often than not talks about cancer-fighting/preventing foods. Some of these make sense (chemo is a carcinogen,radiation alters normal cells too, and the antioxidants in raw fruits/veggies bind with damaging, potentially mutation-causing oxidants in your system). Then there's the articles like the first I mentioned. Being a cytotech-in-training, it sometimes baffles me that someone would choose not to treat something that is a shade away from something deadly for lack of statistics. No, we healthcare providers don't know how many cases end up as cancer, but withholding treatment to conduct that sort of study would be grossly negligent on our behalf.

Anyways, on to the real point of today's post. If there's anything I learn in every course, it's this: if a cancer screening test exists and you fall into the correct age/gender group, you should probably be getting it done as recommended. Why, you say? I am so glad you asked. Sorry, gents: if I have to be specific, I'm mainly going to concentrate on Paps, as they're the most well-known cancer screening test. (That doesn't mean tune out, of course.)

  1. It's the only thing that's going to catch a pre-malignant condition before it actually becomes cancer. Pre-malignant conditions (or dysplasias) generally don't have any signs. By the time symptoms begin showing up, such as pain/bleeding/weight loss/etc., you already have invasive cancer. (An exception to this is lymphoma/leukemia; for the most part, if you have a hard TENDER lymph node, it's only inflamed, but if you have a hard PAINLESS node, it can be bad and may need checked.)
  2. Treatment for dysplasia is much simpler than treatment for cancer. A lot of low-grade dysplasias actually go away on their own, and no treatment is required; just close monitoring. Mid- to high-grade dysplasias are treated with a biopsy. The reason being is that, once you take out the bad tissue, generally normal tissue grows in to replace it. Once you get into cancer, you begin thinking about (in women) a hysterectomy, radiation, and/or chemotherapy (the last two of which are toxic). Plus, there is no chance that dysplasia can metastasize, as it isn't invasive; even if you surgically remove a tumor, it may have already shed bad cells into your bloodstream, which can lodge in your pulmonary capillaries, liver, etc., and create a new tumor.
  3. Costs of screening are low, especially compared to cancer treatment costs. A Pap is around $60 if you are uninsured. From what I've noticed, many insurance companies pay for the whole cost of preventative screening (not the 80% business like at the chiropractor). Why would you not? It's also not inconvenient. Paps need done once a year for your first three; then, if those were normal, your doc may have you come in every three years until a certain age. Exceptions are if you're already in the certain age group (chance of cancer goes up with age), are hi-risk HPV positive or in another hi-risk category, or have had an abnormal test in the recent past. On the other hand, some of the immunohistochemical tests pathologists have to perform to figure out what type of cancer is present cost upwards of $1000 a pop, and they usually perform a panel (at least two) to tailor your treatment to the type.
  4. If you have symptoms, then by all means get yourself checked.* There are many cancers that are very biologically aggressive. For example, one type of lung cancer (highly associated with smoking, BTW), by the time of diagnosis, has usually already metastasized to at least one other body site and has an expected life span of six WEEKS. Surgery just shortens that scarily short number, so all they can do is give you chemo. Which only increases your life span by about a week.
  5. You are not too young. Some types of cervical cancer can occur in your twenties. I recall one case in particular from the teaching file where the girl was only nineteen when she was diagnosed.
*Notice I say 'symptoms', not 'symptom.' I'm not promoting hypochondria, because then you'll get unneeded testing, spend monies, and get mad at me. The best way to do it is to use your best judgement. At the same time, if one symptom makes you suspicious, then by all means get a test.

In conclusion, I feel like I have given a bevy of good reasons. I will continue to share info I think you need to know, or isn't discussed/represented much. Cancer is always a horrible diagnosis to get, and luckily we have most of these tests so preventing and treating it is as effective as possible.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Why, Hello. Let Me Inundate You with a Long Post.

Song of the Day: Only Human by Tim McGraw feat. Ne-Yo

Alex Fletcher: It doesn't have to be perfect. Just spit it out. They're just lyrics. 
Sophie Fisher: "Just lyrics"? 
AF: Lyrics are important. They're just not as important as melody. 
SF: I really don't think you get it. 
AF: Oh. You look angry. Click your pen. 
SF: A melody is like seeing someone for the first time. The physical attraction. Sex. 
AF: I so get that. 
SF: But then, as you get to know the person, that's the lyrics. Their story. Who they are underneath. It's the combination of the two that makes it magical.

Ever have this debate with someone? I get into it all the time with my husband. Practically on a daily basis, as he only ever listens to the music, giving a bit of afterthought to the words after the 50th time listening to it. I am somewhat similar in that I mainly listen to the sound the first time, with few exceptions. But if I like what I hear, I listen to it again later, and pay attention to mainly the lyrics. There are those few songs that rivet my attention from the first note, that I instinctively love the sound of, where I HAVE to listen to the words at the same time. Most songs, though, like the one above, follow Plan A. To me, music is to lyrics as bread is to sandwich fillings, or as the cover is to the pages of the book: the music is the vehicle to deliver you the substance, the lyrics.

I wish I could say Only Human was one of those songs. We were driving home on Christmas night when we popped in Tim's Emotional Traffic album that my favorite mother in the whole world gave to me. Now, Tim McGraw is my favorite artist, hands down. He's a mellower-sounding country artist who is very versatile; he's done songs with Faith Hill (who is his wife, lucky man), Jo Dee Messina, Kenny Chesney, Def Leppard, Nelly, and Ne-Yo, among others. He's also dabbled in movies like The Blind Side. His voice is amazing. I love baritone/bass voices, but let's face it, falsetto is where it's at. I (now) have every one of his albums. ...To leave the bunny trail, here is my album listening process:
  1. I let every song play through, making a mental note of the ones I like based on music and/or the lyrics I catch.
  2. When I'm on my computer next (and remember), I pop it in and listen to the noted ones, this time mainly for the lyrics. Rip the ones that I still like and load them to the mp3.
  3. If there's any in particular I really like, put them in my playlist on my desktop. Listen to while on the computer.
Only Human made the first cut, because I liked the sound. Then Ne-Yo hopped in and confused me, so I had to turn on the car overhead light to see who on earth was singing and blind the driving hubby and all that fun stuff. Investment.

So I get the CD into the 'pooter and listen to it again. The lyrics then grabbed my eardrums and haven't let go. Within a week, Only Human ousted She's My Kind of Rain (also by Tim McGraw) as my new favorite song. At least I'm consistent, right? The reason why: the song reminds me of myself and what I go through.

The kiss that never happened, the call that never came 
The hurt you masked by laughin', the one that got away 
It's all in a day of emotional traffic 
Stranded, broken and tragic 

Chorus:

Finding out you're only human is hard 
I wanna change the world but I don't know where to start 
And I am fool enough to believe there's hope among the ruin 
Finding out you're only human 

I tried to touch the sky and fell right to the ground (and I fell right to the ground) 

Did my best to fly but I just kept falling down 
So many hopes and dreams shattered 
Expectations broken and battered 

Chorus

 
Human enough to forgive, human enough to embrace

All there is
And I am fool enough to believe, to believe
There's hope among the ruin

Chorus

See, here's the thing. I catch myself all the time, in my head at least, acting out a 'savior complex': feeling the need and/or desire to be someone else's savior, if you will, through various means;  at the least, a good influence in their life. Not that it's a bad desire to be a good person and be there for the ones you love; of course that's good. I mean like somehow being a magnet for troublesome people (according to society) and trying to be what they need, so they see that life isn't really all that drab and unfair. Which you might think, "Gee, that still doesn't really sound all that bad", but it leaves you pretty vulnerable to getting hurt emotionally. It's also kind of a power thing. The way my daydreams end up panning out, the save-ee (??) is usually eternally grateful and such. Or I at least stop crimes and deaths from happening, or convince leaders to get along, or persuade someone to not chop down endangered plants and such. Ambitions, I has dem. It takes some pulling on the reins to realize that I can't do that all by myself.

Enter next point: another aspect of the song that describes me is the chorus. When you continually put yourself through above experience, you realize that you're only human. I daydream about such stuff so often that it's not even hard to realize I'm only human anymore. Although it's a noble thing to want to do, change the world one pessimist at a time, it's a lot of emotional turmoil. It sounds like I'm pessimistic too, but the way I'm thinking, I can really only be a catalyst; God has to do the work of changing their heart.

So, if you don't change the world that way, then how do you do it? Cue tons of answers: donate time/resources to organizations X, Y, and Z; hand out food to the homeless; become an environmental lawyer, translate the Bible into new languages; buy goats and chickens from those Christmas catalogs to be sent to African families; pay for a single mom's tank of gas; pray; etc. The entire list would wear out your already-tired-from-reading-this-post eyes. The list is probably so overwhelming that, if you're like me, you don't know where to start.

The good thing is, if you're still like me, then kept hope. The world continually tells us that there is none. Global warming is going to melt the ice caps and we're going to drown. China is going to take over the U.S. when we can't pay our debts. Someone is going to start a nuclear war. Technology is turning children into sloths. Obama is still in office. You know, that sort of thing. Yes, I agree that we live in a world that is in shambles (and sorry, Obama is not the reason; it takes a lot more than one man with a few executive powers to create a mess). I also say that there is still hope. Humans can create a royal mess rather quickly, but we can also clean one up. Maybe not as quickly, but it can be done. It takes effort from everyone.

Thoughts? If you still have non-fried brain cells left? Can you tell I've been waiting to write this for awhile?

~OHAA