Tag: health

creativity

How I endured 2 years taking Verzenio

Christa Avampato
My last dose of Verzenio. Photo by Christa Avampato.

A little over two years ago, I wrote an article about my decision to take Verzenio to prevent breast cancer recurrence. On April 14th, I took my last dose of the medication and now I feel like a new person. Taking Verzenio at the maximum dose for two years was one of the most challenging parts of cancer treatment. Still, I’m glad I took it as part of doing everything I possibly can to stay healthy. I’m beyond grateful that the medication was delivered to my door every month free of charge to me because my health insurance paid the entire cost – $14,000 per month for a grand total of $336,000.

The indignities of cancer treatment are many, and I’ve experienced most of them. Verzenio certainly caused me a lot of anguish. Every day I had at least a low-grade stomach ache, and often much worse. I carried medication to deal with these issues everywhere I went, and often had to use it. Alcohol and grapefruit were off limits. I worried about everything I ate because anything could make me sick at any time. I had to constantly manage fatigue that sleep couldn’t fix, insomnia, depression, hair thinning, dry and sensitive skin, weight gain and aching joints, decreasing bone density, and the possibilities of developing liver and lung issues, being immunocompromised, and having anemia. Mercifully, my blood work was always normal when it was checked by my oncologist every three months – partly from my constant management of my diet and partly because I was very lucky.

Despite all that, that were bright spots, too, when I would discover something that helped, at least for some amount of time. Probiotics lessened the stomach issues, and I stopped drinking coffee, paired everything with carbs, upped my protein intake, and limited spicy, acidic, adventurous food. Audiobooks, an eye mask, and meditating helped me sleep, or at least rest. When I couldn’t sleep, I would often imagine myself traveling over coral reefs in the company of my dog, Phin, with a whale tour guide whom my imagination named Blue. Creativity was a great help on sleepless nights.

Shampoo and conditioner bars from Kitsch slowed the hair thinning. The dryness of my skin was eased by products from Good Molecules, Cetaphil, and HyaloGyn. Daily exercise and fish oil supplements eased my aching joints. The Zometa infusions I get every six months are helping me regrow the bone density I’ve lost. I kept anemia at bay with daily protein shakes. I bought a digital scale to monitor my weight every day, and experimented with recipes that were high nutrition, low-calorie, economical, and not too complicated to make.

Managing depression required a daily recalibration. My dog, Phineas, was my biggest support in that effort. Losing him in January of this year was a devastating loss and the grief at times felt unbearable. Verzenio made his passing even worse. To keep my head up, I did something every day that brought me joy – I spent time with friends, listened to music, watched movies, read books, visited museums, and did things I loved to do – writing, learning from and about nature, running, taking long walks, making art, and studying for my master’s program in sustainability. Joy was one of my saviors during active treatment and it helped with Verzenio, too. Though sometimes I had no choice but to just let myself feel sad, frustrated, and depressed. I cried a lot. Knowing the depression was driven by the medication helped. Knowing this was my now and not my forever encouraged me to keep going, to keep moving.

If all this sounds exhausting, I can assure you it was. Now that I’ve been off the medication for nearly a month, I can see how much effort it took to be on it. In the moment, I tried my best not to acknowledge that. I’ve spent most of the past four years since my diagnosis with my head down, focused on getting to this finish line.

Now that I feel better and lighter, I’m lifting my gaze. Right now, the field of my future is wide open. That’s equal parts exciting, and scary. I don’t know what lies ahead. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff. And that’s okay because even on the cliff, I’m dancing, fully alive. I’m just glad to be here, and to be healthy. Verzenio was a part of making that possible.

So, if I had it to do over again, would I take Verzenio? Absolutely, unequivocally, yes. This is a life worth fighting for.

creativity

The benefits of Zometa for early-stage breast cancer survivors

Christa Avampato
Me getting my recent Zometa infusion at Perlmutter Cancer Center

This is me at Perlmutter Cancer Center this week getting an infusion of Zometa, my own version of the Harry Potter Skele-Gro potion. The medications I take to prevent cancer recurrence have the unfortunate side-effect of decreasing my bone density. Zometa has the dual benefit of regrowing bone and reducing the risk of breast cancer recurrence. Isn’t that cool? The hope is I’ll only need 4 infusions (once every 6 months) so I’m halfway there! I also got all my annual bloodwork done and it’s perfect.

I get this infusion once every 6 months in the same chemo ward I went to during those dark days of active treatment in the midst of the pandemic before vaccines. I remember how sick and scared I was, how my dreams were on hold, and maybe out of reach. I’d flip through pictures of University of Cambridge and University of Oxford having put my graduate school applications to study environmental sustainability on hold, hoping I’d live to pursue those dreams.

Now I’m 3 months from finishing my degree at Cambridge Institute for Sustainability Leadership. The dream came true. It was a dream delayed but not a dream denied, thanks to the incredible care I received and the many people who made it possible for me to heal. Science and medicine are incredible. Better living through chemistry.

Managing through ongoing care can be exhausting. I’m also extraordinarily lucky to have access to the best medical care in the world. There are so many who don’t. And if this is what it takes to maintain my health and live the life I imagine, that’s fine with me. There is so much I’m learning on the journey, and I’m grateful to be able to use it to help others.

creativity

When milestones converge

Christa Avampato
Me on April 14, 2024

Yesterday was a big day for me, marked by many milestones:

I’ll be sharing more about all of this throughout the week. For now, I’m feel so much gratitude for all of this, and for the people who made all of this possible. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

creativity

How I came to see cancer as a gift

Christa Avampato
Filmed by Jen Aks for The Power of Gesture

As breast cancer awareness month comes to a close, I wanted to share this clip of me that was filmed by Jen Aks from The Power of Gesture just as I completed active treatment in 2021. (You can see the full interview at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLF8SWzj5Blq1S8KGan6FXCl8tvxTPUVZm). My hair had started to grow back after chemo and I was on heavy doses of steroids to repair my body from a near-lethal case of pulmonary pneumonitis (lung inflammation) caused by chemo.

Healing and hopeful, I turned my attention to my mental health, something we don’t talk enough about as it relates to physical illness. I made the conscious choice to see cancer as a gift, something that honed me as it harmed me. Though I don’t want anyone to ever go through cancer, I wouldn’t erase it from my own history if I could. It made me stronger, wiser, braver, kinder, and more compassionate. It taught me to ask for help and advocate for myself and all others who walk this road.

Because of what I went through, patients at my cancer center now have better care. My personal health data from this battle has been presented at medical conferences and written about in medical journals to better train doctors and researchers. I continue to contribute to research for better treatments and cures.

From food drops at my front door to gifts of comfort to messages of encouragement in every communication channel I have, my community had my back every step of the way. Though physically alone for much of my journey, they made sure I was never spiritually alone. They brought me joy and hope, and many times that was all I had to hang onto. There is no healing without grieving, and so I gave myself the space to grieve and mourn everything I lost. That process allowed me to recognize that while I can never get back my pre-cancer life and body, I can have something better—the life I have now. If we can let go of a dream that’s died, we can create something new and better.

Healing isn’t linear nor easy, but now on this side of history I can say that it’s absolutely worth every ounce of effort. So no matter what you’re going through now, keep going. There’s something beautiful waiting for you.

creativity

3 years cancer-free today

Christa Avampato
Me happily cancer-free for 3 years

3 years ago today I had the surgery that eradicated cancer from my body – a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. I had my annual checkup with my brilliant surgeon, Dr. Freya Schnabel at Perlmutter Cancer Center – part of NYU Langone Health, today and I’m happily NED – no evidence of disease. Forever grateful and enjoying my life and health to the max! Thank you to everyone who’s been in the trenches with me and helped me up and over this mountain. So happy to pay it forward and help others on their journey.

creativity

Myth-busting: Canada is not to blame for wildfires impacting NYC, and these fires aren’t “natural”

Christa Avampato
Photo by Kym MacKinnon on Unsplash

The U.S. loves a good blame game. I’ve seen some journalists and talking heads blame Canada for New York City’s hideous air quality that is now migrating south, and others call these fires “natural”. Let’s debunk both these myths.

Don’t blame Canada
Canada is not the enemy, just the stage for this latest environmental tragedy. The wildfires were caused by years of extreme temperatures and drought, driven by climate change, drying out forests and making them hotter. This is a great recipe for kindling. Canada’s millions of acres of forest are tinderboxes. 

Dry, hot weather also creates more lightning. Lightning starts 50% of Canada’s wildfires that generate 85% of wildfire destruction. The other half of Canada’s wildfires are caused by human activity. Changing our collective behaviour to mitigate the impacts of humanity-driven climate change needs to be our collaborative focus. 

These Canadian wildfires are not “natural”
Climate deniers love to throw around the word “natural”. There is nothing natural about the fires except for the fact that they are impacting nature in profound ways that will, if left unchecked, leave this planet and us in jeopardy. There’s nothing natural about massive consumption far beyond our needs, our outrageous generation of trash and pollution, and the intense love affair we have with fossil fuel use. This wildfire season has started earlier, is already more fierce than any in history, and will last longer. All of these circumstances are driven by an accelerated rate of climate change, rate being the opportune word. 

Yes, climate changes over time, and so does weather. Another myth to debunk—climate and weather are not the same. Climate is a pattern over time; weather is an acute event. They are linked, but they are not the same. We expect weather to change. We expect, and need, climate to be stable.

For the past 12,000 years, the Earth’s climate has been stable with very little change. In the past 150 years, the change to our climate has been substantial, occurred at a rate at which nature cannot adjust and adapt to maintain quality of life, and is due to human activity. This is anything but natural. 

We still have time to fix this
As treacherous as this situation is now, all is not lost, yet. We can change our behaviours. We can change how we live on and with this planet, and all the species who call it home. We can eat more plants and fewer animal products. We can use less energy, and create more of it from sustainable sources. We can have honest conversations, and take more responsibility as individuals, communities, governments, and businesses. We can be alarmed, maintain hope, and use tragedy as fuel to turn pain and peril into power through our actions.

What we can’t do is lie, bury our heads in the sand, prey off of people’s fears, and be complacent. It’s time to rise together to protect the planet. Our own lives and livelihoods hang in the balance. 

creativity

New York wakes up to climate change

Christa Avampato
Picture I took this morning of the thick skies in upstate New York

Yesterday, Mayor Adams walked out of Gracie Mansion, smelled the air, looked at the sky, and asked, “What the hell is this?” This, Mr. Mayor, is climate change.

A truly stunning series of events is unfolding in New York. For the first time in recorded history, the AQI (air quality index) was over 200. 218 to be exact—a purple warning, the highest level of the AQI. Right now, it is the second worst air quality in the world. Canadian wildfires are mixing with ground level ozone to create a thick smoky gravy in the skies. 

It’s forcing New Yorkers indoors to protect their health. The city has asked that if they must go outdoors, they should dig out and wear those KN95 masks they thought were in their COVID-19 rearview mirrors. They are being encouraged to work from home is possible, and many events are being cancelled across the city, including after-school activities. 

To my knowledge, the 33-minute press conference that Mayor Adams and his collaborators and staff held this morning on the situation is the first time a New York Mayor has held such an event specifically because of climate change, with that being the dominant message at the event. It won’t be the last. The climate emergency is here, it’s impacting daily life, and it will get worse. 

During the War of 1812, Master Commandant Oliver Perry wrote to Major General William Henry Harrison, “We have met the enemy, and they are ours.” He could easily write the same line today with respect to climate change. We are the problem, and we are also the solution.

Synchronistically, I am in upstate New York taking a break as I wait for my new Brooklyn apartment to be ready and I am working my way through the climate segment of my Masters degree in Sustainability Leadership at University of Cambridge. For the record, I don’t like to be away from my city when there’s a crisis. As a proud and committed New Yorker, I feel responsible for my home, my neighbors, and our collective future, particularly when it comes to environmental sustainability. 

Some environmental facts about New York City may surprise you. New York has more trees than any other U.S. city has people, with 39.2% tree cover, the highest of any city in the world. New York City’s greenhouse gas emissions are 7.1 metric tons per person compared with the national average of 24.5. New Yorkers are collectively responsible for just 1% of the nation’s total greenhouse gas emissions though we comprise 2.7% of the nation’s population. We are the only city in the U.S. where well over half of households do not own a car, and most people regularly take public transit — the highest percentage to do so in the nation. 78% of New Yorkers are personally convinced climate change is happening, slightly higher than the 71% national average. 

Still, inequality in environmental impacts and health outcomes, often linked to environmental causes, is rampant in New York. It has the third highest cancer instance in the country, the old housing stock and lead paint are ongoing concerns, and pests are so rampant that we have a rat czar (her actual title), Kathleen Corradi, on the city payroll. Though the average New Yorker creates less trash than the national average, we are the largest city by population and collectively generate 14 million tons of trash every year, which is all shipped out of the city for processing.

The inequality in New York is also causing a disparity in impact with this latest air quality warning. I feel for the elderly, those with health challenges intensely impacted by this situation, those in neighborhoods who are already disproportionately impacted by climate change and health challenges, and essential workers such as sanitation workers who again are being asked to show up in our city for our sake. 

I also feel for the animals and natural landscapes who did nothing to precipitate this situation, and now have no protection from the fallout. New York is home to over 7,000 species of plants and animals, and we are in one of the 36 global biodiversity hotspots. We need this biodiversity in flora and fauna, and they need us to change our ways, now more than ever. 

My biggest goal in my life is to make New York the healthiest and most sustainable city on the planet. We have much to do, and a long way to go. This latest air quality warning proves we must go together. 

creativity

Canadian wildfires impacting New York City air quality

Christa Avampato
Imagine on Secret NYC by Gary Hershorn

Canadian wildfires are having a massive impact on NYC air quality today. Limit time outdoors and limit energy use when possible. The air quality is so poor that people will begin to feel health impacts from it. It is in place at least until midnight tonight.

This will be common throughout the summer as global warming and climate change have triggered an earlier and more intense start to wildfire season. More details, links, and information about this alert here: https://secretnyc.co/air-quality-health-advisory-nyc/

Stay up-to-date on this warning and other environmental notifications by following the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation twitter account at https://twitter.com/NYSDEC

creativity

How Matthew McConaughey helped me through cancer

Christa Avampato
Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

On the Calm app, Matthew McConaughey reads a sleep story titled Wonder. In the earliest days of my cancer diagnosis and treatment, in the middle of the pandemic before vaccines when death tolls were skyrocketing, I waited for biopsy results and surgery. I would lie in bed praying for sleep, knowing cancer was in my body. I’d often wake up in the middle of the night—alone, afraid, and lost.

I would turn on Wonder, and Matthew McConaughey’s voice would help me escape from my panicked and fearful mind. I needed to build my own anchor, and that story one was of my tools. It features a 7-year-old girl named Zoe who loves dinosaurs, art, and the cosmos. Her stargazing grandfather is wise and kind, and lives on a lake. When Zoe can’t sleep because of her worries about the world and her future, he reassures her of the beauty and comfort we can find in the darkness if only we are willing to step into it with curiosity and courage.

In those nights of drifting liminal space, caught in the sea of time between no longer and not yet, between living and dying, between this world and what’s next, Zoe, her grandfather, and Matthew helped me became limitless, fearless, and amazed. They kept the tiny light within me burning bright. Awe became my salvation.

I was Zoe, and her grandfather and Matthew were my guides. They reminded me again and again that in this moment, I was alive. “What might happen in the future can’t happen now,” they assured me. That truth was my North Star and I clung to it like the life raft that it was. I listened to this story so many times that I could recite it from memory.

Now, over two years cancer-free, I’m in the midst of re-imagining my future home and career. Recently I woke up in the middle of the night, concerned about what’s ahead. I listened to Wonder again for the first time in a long time. Again, as then, Matthew, Zoe, and her grandfather soothed my worried mind. They reminded me of how far I’ve come, how far we’ve all come, since those terrifying nights when, in the wise and timeless words of Ani DiFranco, self-preservation was a full-time occupation (and then some.)

That’s the thing about stories. They give us hope and joy. They help us rest and recharge. They give us an escape so we can re-enter our lives with new perspective and renewed strength. Stories have saved my life more than once. They continue to be that solid core of my being every time I’m afraid “the centre cannot hold,” as Yeats speaks of so poignantly in his poem “The Second Coming”. He talks of revelation and rebirth in the middle of chaos, darkness, and doubt—exactly the same spirit of Wonder. 

When we are most unsure, we can be certain of this: if we can find something, anything, to help us hang on, there is so much beauty and wisdom to be gained in the struggle. Someday, our struggle and triumph will be the inspiration that helps someone else survive their own long night. That is reason enough to keep going—to have the honor of paying it forward. 

creativity

This is the secret of life

Christa Avampato

If you get to the end of this story, I’ve got a secret to share with you. The upper left picture is me exactly two years ago right before I had a bilateral mastectomy and reconstructive surgery for early-stage breast cancer. My “Good Trouble” photo. The lower left is me the next morning at sunrise. My “I Survived” photo. The right is my official matriculation photo from the University of Cambridge taken last month as I began my graduate studies there in sustainability leadership. My “A Dream Deferred, but Not Denied” photo.

I have so much empathy for the woman on the left. It was the first time in my life I’d ever been admitted to a hospital and the first time I’d ever had surgery. I was terrified and also determined to be brave and evict cancer from my body.

With surgery I placed my life in someone else’s hands. I told Brian, my therapist, a few days before that I was terrified of surgery because there was no way for me to product manage the operation. He listened patiently, as always, and said, “Honey, you’re talented but even you can’t give yourself surgery. You have to trust someone else. The only way to conquer fear is to run right at it.”

It was a 5-hour tag-teamed procedure to remove all my breast tissue and 37 lymph nodes, and place chest expanders under my chest muscle. 14 months of constant pain later, they were swapped for much comfier implants. I smiled through the prep, thanking the nurses who helped me, determined not to crack.

Before entering the surgical suite that looked like a NASA space station, Dr. Schnabel, my breast surgeon, and Dr. Cohen, my plastic surgeon, visited with me. Dr. Schnabel looked me in the eye and said, “Sweetie, you’ve been stoic through this. It’s okay to have a moment. Then we go into battle.” Good trouble. I wanted to be as brave as John Lewis whom Audrey, my friend Stephanie’s daughter, painted onto my mask. That photo is the last day I had any cancer in my body.

I decided to walk into the surgical suite on my own two feet, even if my only armor was my surgical gown. I was scared and I ran right at it. This was going to be the last day that I had any cancer in my body. My last thought before closing my eyes was I hoped I lived to see the sunrise the next morning.

I have no memory of the surgery. I closed my eyes at NASA and woke up in the cloud of the recovery room. I was told they’d given me just a touch too much fentanyl and my blood pressure took a nosedive. I thought this was hilarious and laughed hysterically. Then I asked for some apple juice. Ah, narcotics.

I was in recovery for a long time and wasn’t admitted to a regular room until the wee hours of the morning. My dear recovery nurse, Esther, ran all over the hospital trying to find me a fresh turkey sandwich. I hadn’t eaten solid food in 24 hours and that plain turkey sandwich was one of the best things I’d ever eaten.

I told her my wish to see the sunrise and she was determined to make it a reality. I watched Harry Potter and munched on my turkey sandwich until daybreak. Maybe it was the drugs but I did feel like a witch with magical powers, as bandaged and bruised as I was.

Esther came back as soon as the sun started to come up. She helped me walk to a corner room where I could see the east river and the first rays of light illuminate my beautiful city. She left me alone to have my moment. I survived.

Back in my room, Dr. Schnabel and Dr. Cohen visited me. When I saw Dr. Schnabel, I cried for the first time. Again she looked me in the eye, two warriors on the other side of this one battle in a series of many more to come in this war. “Sweetie, it won’t always feel like this. You’re going to get to the other side. There’s a whole team of people focused on getting you there.”

I thanked her for saving my life, and she said, “I’m just part of the team. Team Christa.”

A few hours later my friend, Marita, picked me up at the hospital to take me home to where my sister who was graciously waiting for me with my dog, Phin. I had a giant bag of meds and surgical drains hanging out of my body. “How do you feel?” Marita asked once we got into her car. “I lived,” I said. “You did,” she said. “And you will.”

Fast-forward two years after climbing mountain after difficult mountain. That war on cancer was more epic than I ever imagined it would be. I nearly died, twice, from a severe and rare chemo allergy that shut down my lungs. I lost my long wavy hair to chemo and regrew 1940s ringlets. I was badly burned by radiation and completely healed. Now I’ve got new hard-earned boobs the same size as my OG boobs. That day in surgery was the last day there was ever any sign of cancer in my body—two years clear. Dr. Schnabel was right. I did get to the other side and I don’t feel the way I did before my surgery. This journey made me fearless.

When I was first diagnosed, I was just about to hit submit on my graduate school applications for Cambridge and Oxford. Then cancer struck and I had to put those applications away, afraid I may never get to submit them. I would sit in the chemo suite and dream about those far off places, dream that someday I would swap my surgical gown for an academic robe.

In September 2022, that dream happened. I took the train from platform 9 at King’s Cross to Cambridge, my own version of the Hogwarts Express just ¾ of a platform off. I thought about how I had watched Harry Potter’s train chug along on my TV screen in my hospital room two years before.

When I arrived at Cambridge, I dragged by very large bag that felt like a trunk onto the platform. I had myself a good cry in that train station. Here it was—my dream deferred, but not denied.

At my recent appoint to get the all-clear and graduate to annual checkups rather than 6 month checkups, Dr. Schnabel called my healing and this new academic chapter of my life a triumph. The dream became a reality, and I’m beyond grateful to everyone who helped me get here.  

I’ll never get back the life I had before the photos on the left, before cancer and COVID. I mourn the loss of that life. I miss it. But in exchange, I got something better. Environmental pollution was one of the main contributors to my cancer. Now I’m healed and dedicated to healing the planet.

Now for that secret I promised you at the start of this story. Along the way on this painful and difficult journey, I learned the secret of life. It’s love.

To love fiercely and be loved that way in return. To love whom we spend time with, the place we live, and the work we do. To love the planet that gives us everything and asks in return only to persist and continue giving to all of us. To love this life so much that our heart swells with gratitude for every day we’re given, the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful. To love and honor your time, and the time of others.  That’s it. That’s the secret, and it will transform us and our planet for the better.

Get into good trouble; the planet is counting on us. Survive, and then share your story because your story’s going to save someone else. Even if you have to put some dreams on hold right now, you can still make them happen bit by bit and they’ll be sweeter when you do get there.

Love, this and every moment. That’s the only secret there is, and the only work we really have to do.