Glenna Sears-Brinker is an ovarian cancer survivor, patient advocate and writer who shares her experiences to empower others navigating cancer diagnoses.

Glenna Sears-Brinker

Surrounded by love and encouragement, I overcame fear and anxiety to give myself life-saving injections after being diagnosed with cancer and a dangerous blood clot.

Could I be more terrified? My life-threatening cancer diagnosis upgraded to a more immediate life-threatening diagnosis — a deep vein thrombosis (DVT). A DVT is a blood clot in a vein — in my case, the subclavian vein around my Port-a-Cath — that can be life-threatening if left untreated. When my diagnosis came, it was a whirlwind of medical actions, fearful emotions and anxious questions. One of the most surprising medical recommendations required that I administer self-injections as part of my treatment. Little did I know this necessity would reveal profound personal weakness and require immense courage.

It all began with a persistent throbbing ache in my arm. At first, I dismissed it as usual pain following the surgical implant of the Port-a-Cath needed for chemotherapy infusions. As days went by, the pain didn’t subside — in fact, it began to worsen. At my routine pre-chemo medical appointment, the nurse practitioner sent me for a Doppler ultrasound, which revealed a new threat: in addition to ovarian cancer, I had a DVT. My doctor explained the severity of the situation. A DVT isn’t just about discomfort; if the clot breaks loose, it can travel to the lungs and cause a pulmonary embolism or travel to the brain and cause a stroke, both potentially fatal conditions. 

The treatment plan was clear: anticoagulation therapy to thin the blood and reverse the clot. But there was a twist: the initial phase of treatment would involve daily self-injections of low-molecular-weight heparin to stabilize the condition before transitioning to oral anticoagulants.

My DVT diagnosis came late in the day after all medical offices were closed, so I was immediately admitted to the local hospital to learn self-injections. The threat of a DVT elevated my anxiety, which raised my blood pressure, further restricted the space in my vein and amplified my pain. Multiple threat — cancer, a DVT and giving myself an injection — had me spinning in a vicious cycle of pain and anxiety.

The night nurse described every step at the first injection, clarifying that I was expected to demonstrate the next injection at the prescribed time. After she administered that first dose of blood thinner into my belly, I promptly vomited because of my extreme anxiety. Advocating for myself, I asked for anti-nausea meds; they were denied because my admitting physician did not order them. I asked for more pain meds; this was also denied because it was too soon, even though I had barfed up the earlier dose. Knowing my inclination to vomit, I begged the nurse to get an order for the meds to be administered intravenously. A few hours later, after the pain medication injection, my pain decreased enough for me to fall asleep.

The morning to demonstrate a self-injection arrived too soon. The day nurse, a compassionate individual, gave me some control over the process. Her gentle but persistent encouragement kept moving me toward completing this task — easy for some but frightfully difficult for me. Despite additional meds for pain and nausea, the fear of injecting a needle into myself was so overwhelming that I sobbed during the puncture and finished with dry heaving. After demonstrating that I could inject the life-saving heparin, I was discharged home to continue this task — alone.

I arranged tools from the self-injection kit on the kitchen table: an alcohol swab to sterilize the injection site on my belly, the syringe loaded with the prescribed dose of blood-thinning medication, and the needle. I chose a spot on my belly, swapped it with alcohol, and gave myself a pep-talk as I picked up the syringe and needle. I had to put it down because sobbing moved my body erratically enough that I could jab myself anywhere but the intended target. To release tension, I rose and paced the floor. I walked to the bathroom, splashed cool water on my face, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I asked myself, “What can I do to accomplish this injection?”

Inspired, I located a handmade poster from friends with pictures and encouraging words. I gathered a stack of cards and letters from family with positive sentiments that made me feel loved. I carried these reminders to the kitchen table. For me, these items became a vital addition to the medical injection kit. Surrounded by reminders of all the people dear to me, I inhaled deeply. In that breath, I found the courage to inject the life-saving medication successfully. At a very low point in my cancer journey, love helped me overcome my fears. Threats of cancer and a DVT remained, but with the success of my first solo self-injection completed, I moved from feeling helpless to feeling hopeful.

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Articles

Receiving a life-threatening cancer diagnosis is daunting, but the situation becomes more complex with the addition of a deep vein thrombosis (DVT). This condition, involving a blood clot in a vein, poses significant risks if untreated. The treatment involves anticoagulation therapy, initially requiring self-administered injections of low-molecular-weight heparin. Overcoming the fear of self-injection is challenging, but with support and determination, it becomes manageable. The journey from fear to hope is marked by personal courage and the support of loved ones, highlighting the emotional and psychological aspects of managing serious health conditions.

Facing two life-threatening diagnoses, I overcame fear of self-injections by leaning on love, encouragement and determination to save my life.

Glenna Sears-Brinker

How Love Helped Me Overcome my Cancer Diagnosis

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