An Musing About Being A Young Cancer Survivor

Saturday morning I trekked early in the morning with my husband and our trooper friends Shannon and Gabriel to the annual American Cancer Society's Relay for Life in Santa Clarita. It's an event that is held multiple times over around the country which raises money for cancer research. It is one of those few places, other than your oncologists office or an infusion room, that you encounter multiple cancer patients and survivors with multiple diagnoses. It's a 24 hour event which had people walking around a loop continuously, and the loop is lined with different booths which are raising money by selling donated products or raffling things off or selling activities, and 100% of the proceeds goes to cancer research. My cancer center, UCLA Santa Clarita, has a large team and one of the nurses invited me to come out and walk.

Up until recently, I have avoided getting heavily involved with groups and activities which raise awareness and money for cancer research. Even after my mother died, I never really got involved with anything, and that made me feel guilty. You always hear about different people whose lives are touched by cancer, and they try and make a difference by starting a charity or non-profit, or running a 5k, or so on and so forth. However, I really never felt the urge to do that. Mostly, this was a selfish decision because I was tired of thinking about cancer. I just wanted to go and live in a little bubble where I didn't have to think about the stupid disease anymore and the havoc it had wreaked upon my life. Flash forward 4+ years, and I found myself diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I had kicked around the possibility in my mind that I might have to face breast cancer one day like my mother had, but I had never dreamed that I would face cancer again at 25. It seemed like I simply could not get away, and even then I had no real urge to get involved in any organization or fund. I just wanted to get cured and put it behind me. Then I was re-diagnosed.

I have slowly come to the conclusion that I will never exactly be able to put cancer behind me. It has left an indelible mark on my life story that cannot be erased, no matter how much I shun advocacy or Grey's Anatomy. Amongst the other survivors at the Relay on Saturday there were, maybe, 10 people who were my age or younger. That's not because we're not out there, but I think it's because we're afraid. You see, when you're 45 or 55 or 65 and you get cancer, you've already lived a good portion of your life. That doesn't mean that you aren't severely impacted, it just means that you have lived and had experiences, family, and careers and cancer is another piece of your journey. As a twenty-something, when we get cancer, we fear it defining our journey. I think we avoid walks and raising money and other survivors because we just want to put cancer behind us and not let it define us. We're afraid that it will be not only the defining part of our life journey, but possibly the end.

I've decided that it will not define me, but I cannot ignore it. I have to use cancer to my advantage, to help others and to be a better person. So I'm not going to pretend I'm normal. I'm a cancer survivor....and that's ok.

Drumroll please....

Tomorrow is my next doctor's appointment and I am extremely nervous. Of course, I'm always nervous when these things come around. On the plus side, I've been able to fend off the anxiety until the day before, which for me is a real improvement. I am hoping to show up and hear the Doctor say, "Everything looks fine," and make me an appointment for 3 months from now for my next PET scan. We've been praying about this for months, and I've been feeling really good. My energy is great and I've been working and working out. Justin and I just joined a small group last night and we are really excited about it. I've got my Final Assessment in less than 3 weeks. It seems like my life is really back on track, and that makes this appointment even more nerve-wracking. I'm just working on trust; trusting that no matter what happens that God is in control of my life. So instead of letting myself devolve into a mess of nerves, I am going to turn tomorrow over and instead work on my PIF (kind of like a resume for you non-presbyterians), and after that work out and go teach a lesson. It's cliche, but I refuse to let cancer have me. I am going to keep walking the way I am walking and trust that God will see us through this no matter what. Still, prayers are appreciated.

Ode to a cat

I ask myself oh why, oh why
Does the cat so like to lie
On my stomach, legs and chest
And on my face which she likes best?
And why is it I find her hair
here and there and everywhere?
They're on my clothes, sheets and couch
and, whoops, just found one in my mouth.
I yelled at her and shook my head,
when she she used for scratching post my bed.
And I never felt such stress
As when she attacked my bridesmaid dress.
But when I think I've had enough
and cat-sitting became far too rough
The cockles of my heart she stirs
When she cuddles and when she purrs.
She killed a spider on the floor
And waits when I come in the door.
So it seems I've decided that
I kind of like the stupid cat.

Check-up creeping near

I can't believe that it has almost been 3 months since the last check-up with my oncologist and that the next one is only 2 weeks away. I am trying not to get nervous. I know that I feel great. I have tons of energy and I am teaching swimming lessons. I am very hopeful that this is a sign that everything is still great. No pet scan this time, just simple blood work. So this blog will be short. I could use some extra prayers to get me through these next couple of weeks. I'm really trying to not worry about it and to give it over to God. I am just trusting that whatever happens is his will, although I will confess that I have my own wishes as to how this all turns out. In the mean time, I plan to be looking for a new dog. The owner of our condo has reversed her pet policy and allowed us to get a pet. On top of that, she's reduced our rent by $25 a month, which might cover the expense of a new dog! (Not likely) That's all for today. Not a very witty blog, but effective none the less. The next one will be better. I promise.

A time to mourn

Last night, a good man passed away after a long battle with cancer. His name was Kyle and he was a manager whom Justin worked for during his time at AV. I personally didn't know Kyle terribly well; we pretty much knew each other through the word of others. I only met him once, in fact, at a company party when he was about to start up another round of treatment and I (little did I know at the time) would be soon starting up another round myself. Yet, what I did know about him compels me to give pause and space here for remembrance. It moves me to give thanks for his life. He was a man whom my husband always respected, and Justin is not always an easy man to impress. He was a man whom people trusted, who was smart and a good manager. Justin always appreciated him as a person and felt that Kyle had his best interest at heart, something not always found in business these days. He was a man who loved fast cars, both in mini-racer form and in the full-sized versions too. He was a man, though he had never met me, sent me a book about women who were fighting and surviving cancer when he found out that I had been diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He was a man who was diagnosed with a rare cancer that is usually found only in tobacco users, of which he was not. And he fought it even when the odds were not good because, and this is only a guess, he believed that life was worth fighting for. I only knew him through his friends and co-workers, and yet I know he was a man who will be greatly missed, not only by his family but by his friends and co-workers.

I can only begin to imagine what his family are going through right now, and I know that no words will be of any comfort. Exactly a month from now marks the 6 year anniversary of my own mothers death from Breast cancer. If I allow myself, I can remember the gut wrenching, soul-shaking agony and grief of that time, and I ache for the pain his family feels right now. I know, however, that he will always be remembered in the hearts and minds of the people whom he touched, and that includes Justin and I.

I pray for him comfort and peace and that he is in the arms of the Father now, and I hope to one day see him on the other side.

A quandry and a query

Per my husband's request, I am going to bring a debate here to my blog. It's a stupid debate, the kind a husband and wife get into and go to others to settle, which will inevitably leave one of us (most likely me if history is any portent) will end up being "wrong". Mind you...this is a stupid debate, but if we could get some feedback, maybe we could come to some sort of agreement.

It's about our toilet seat. (Collective groan) I know, I know, if you're married, you've probably had some form of this discussion. Here's the problem. Justin was well trained as a child growing up and he always closes the toilet seat, cover and all. This would seem like a good thing, right? Well, having lived with girls most of my life, which means that there was not a lot of manipulation of seats, I have always generally left the cover up unless we have guests. We really don't have a problem until night time when I stumble to the bathroom and, half asleep, sit down on the seat cover and come to that realization just moments before a mishap takes place.

Now, I think that it's not that big of a deal for Justin to just leave the cover up, at least at night. However, Justin thinks that how he does it is the "proper way" and, therefore, I should learn to adjust. I agree with him that generally his way is the best way and that when I am in my best conscious mind I have no problem just lifting up the cover. All I am asking for is the night time. Just leave the cover up at night. Is that so much to ask? Seriously. I'm asking all of you. Justin wanted me to take this to the blog, and so we will respect your decision. Help us.

The worst travel day EVER

It's 12:39 AM and I'm in Dallas. I was supposed to be in Corpus Christi and hour and a half ago. But I'm not. Because today was the worst travel day EVER. Let me run it down for you. So. I had planned on getting up early and trying to get on standby to get to Corpus earlier, but that fell through so I went ahead and planned on taking my 1:35PM flight to Dallas. I didn't have any bags to check, so I left the house at 11:00. Plenty of time to get to LAX....unless you hit mondo traffic on the 405. Which I did. It took me and hour and a half to get to LAX. Now, I had planned on parking in the long term parking which costs 13 dollars a day, but since I was running so late I had to park in the short term parking which costs $30 a day. I rushed inside, rushed through security, breathed a sigh of relief and went to look at the board to find my gate. And I noticed that my flight was delayed to 4:35. Which meant I was going to miss my 8:05 PM connection flight to Corpus. Apparently storms shut down most of the airports in Texas for some time today. So, I went back to the car and moved it to the long term lot and took the shuttle back to the airport. I went through security (time #2) and looked at the board and saw that the flight had been pushed back to 5:35 PM. I went and stood in line for customer service (which was 80 people long) and began to wait. Then the customer service lady recommended that those of us at the back of the line might want to try the ticket counter. Since I was at the back of the line, I decided to take my chances and left the secure area and went to the ticket counter where I waited for another 30 minutes or so to talk to someone. I was slightly insulted when she asked for the next gentleman in line (me), but tried to take it in stride with the short hair and all and hoped that she had some eyesight issues. She was able to get me on a flight to Corpus Christi at 6:45 Saturday (which now is today) morning, which was great and I thanked her copiously, forgiving the fact she thought I was a dude from far away. I got back in the security line again, and was called sir by a TSA agent. That left me once again feeling far from pretty, but still I was focused on the task ahead...getting some lunch. By this time it was 2:00 and I hadn't eaten anything. I went through the metal detectors and one of the TSA guys said, "Hey, you're back." I told him that I hoped this third time would be the last, and I made my way to Chili's. At this point, I thought my day was looking up. I got a table after a short 10 minute wait, and ate myself a turkey sandwich. I tipped the waiter generously, feeling particularly gracious now that my travel troubles were sorted out.

I went to my gate, and I noticed it was pretty deserted so I figured that they had probably changed my gate. I went to look up at the board and discovered that my departure had been delayed again. To 7:35. However a flight which had been scheduled originally to leave at 3:50 and rescheduled to leave at 5:30, had remained the same. Highly annoyed, I went back to the customer service area and waited in line (with what was now becoming an angry lynch mob minus torches) for about 30 minutes until I could talk to a representative. While I was in the line, the flight was further delayed until 8:30PM, which would have meant I would have gotten to DFW at 1:30 AM, only to have to catch a flight to Corpus at 6:45 AM. When my turn with the ticket agent came around, I asked her (not expecting a good result) if I could get on the 3:50 i.e. 5:30 flight to Dallas, and by the grace of God....I did. She asked if I wanted an back of the plane aisle or window or a front of the plane middle seat, and I told her that I didn't care if I had to ride on the wing, as long as she got me on that plane. By this time, it was about 4:45, so I got my ticket with about 15 minutes to spare before they began boarding. Feeling relieved and hopeful that I was finally on the path to maybe, hopefully, on a wing and a prayer making it to the Saturday night wedding, I decided that I was going to reward myself with a Starbucks Signature hot chocolate. It's made of a blend of cocoas and skim milk and it is super yummy, and I went to the register and placed my order only to be met with the response, "Oh, um....I think we're out." At this point I laughed somewhat hysterically, told the young woman, "Don't worry...it's not you, it's me." She looked at me funny and I went to go and wait for my flight.

Finally we boarded, and I got to my middle seat. Which had a broken arm rest. As the plane was loaded, the window seat next to me was empty and I said, "To heck with this," and moved over to the window seat. To discover that it was broken and lay back on it's own. Hence, I slid back to my seat and let the standby passenger take it.

It's a small miracle that the plane didn't crash.

But here I am...and I'm hopeful that I will make it to my destination tomorrow. On the bright side, I got to spend time with my Dad. I made an awful lot of friends to day as I chit chatted with people in the 10-15 various lines I've stood in today. I didn't lose it with any American Airlines employees. In fact, the only person I really lost it with was Justin, and I've apologized. Each time I blew up. Which happened more than twice. Thank goodness he loves me (see...I told you in the last blog that it was guaranteed that you would fight). I'm a big proponent of making my misfortunes other people's giggles, so I hope you all enjoyed. And pray that Justin and I survive the rest of our travel. Corpus Christi here I come! (Maybe)