Vacation for Breat Cancer Survivors

Yes, I know vacation is the farthest thing from your mind. You are already visiting this
strange new place called Cancerland, a foreign destination hard to navigate, a place you are
never really going to leave. How could you possibly be thinking about a vacation? Well, I
consider a vacation an admirable goal to strive for during the worst of your treatment. I did,
and it was worth it.

When you are diagnosed with breast cancer, your doctors and larger medical team—
there are so many of them—will become among the most important people in your life.
There are so many appointments to keep; so many tests to undergo; so much pain, nausea,
and discomfort to endure. I certainly felt that I wanted to be close to my doctors at all
times, day or night. The anxiety of the what-ifs is palpable. When you are undergoing
treatment you are, well, sick. Sometimes you might get so sick that you need to go to the
hospital. I ended up in the emergency room twice while I was undergoing chemotherapy,
glad that the hospital was just a short ride away.

There are ups during each cycle of chemotherapy, when you tell yourself you are feeling
better and you can do anything. But then you remember that your immune system is
completely and utterly compromised. I once entertained the thought of attending an event
in New York during one of these upswings. I was sure I had the energy and thought that
taking the train from Washington, D.C., to New York would be less taxing than flying.

Then I started to think about the circle of germs I would encounter on that trip—touching
door handles, breathing in the same air as a train car full of people, arriving at Penn Station
and encountering the full panoply of what New York City has to offer at that particular
crossroads of humanity. (For the uninitiated, it is not the most welcoming of major city
train stations; in fact, it is old, and murky, and dirty, and thoroughly depressing.) Since I
couldn’t guarantee a Purell perimeter zone with me in it and everyone else out of it, staying
close to home seemed to make most sense for me.

So, would I ever get beyond a three-mile radius of my house? Well, it turned out that
eventually I would. What I needed was a goal. For years I had wanted to visit Istanbul. In
fact, one of my earliest thoughts upon diagnosis was I’m going to die and I’ve never been
to Istanbul. So for me, finally taking that vacation was a worthy thing to strive for. During
the real lows of my treatment, it seemed the most unattainable thing possible but also, on
some days, the only thing I might get out of bed for. Ah, the paradox of cancer treatment.

But your vacation doesn’t have to be in a destination as exotic as that. A change of
scenery is a great thing, even for a day or two, but it must be a vacation for you. I made
the mistake of making a work trip out of town too soon and ran myself ragged and had to
come home early. A few months after chemotherapy the first pleasure trip I took was to
visit friends in Massachusetts. Here are the things I remember about that trip: I was leaving
home, so I was leaving my cancer behind for a while; they were really good friends and
there were no expectations on either side, they just wanted me to get away for a break and
I wanted to be somewhere different; I was really tired; I spent a lot of the weekend on the
couch in their living room, the sea visible through the screen doors, and I let the salty
breeze drift over me; I let my friends look after me (see “K Is for Kindness”). It was fortyeight
hours of bliss (see “T Is for Therapy”).

There has been much talk of America’s inability to take a vacation. We take less time off
than any other developed nation. And we are continuously “connected” when we are
vacationing, so are we really vacationing anyway? When you are undergoing cancer
treatment, the restorative and rejuvenating powers of a vacation suddenly begin to make
real sense. Whether for a few hours, a few days, or a few weeks, when your mind and
body are ready to take that vacation—take it.

I did get to Istanbul eventually. It was everything I’d hoped it would be and more. It was
my vacation from Cancerland.

Vacation for Breast Cancer Survivors