I just read a blog post from a friend of mine studying in Dublin over the summer. In it he admits to having drank a bottle of Captain Morgan in one night. Well, Jon, I just ate a carton of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. While there are distinct differences between ice cream and rum consumption, the level of intoxication, for instance, there are also notable similarities, the amount of sugar ingested, perhaps. Also, his liver probably hates him right now, and my liver function is also somewhat spotty. But most importantly, in neither instance was moderation a factor. So Jon, I raise my empty, sticky ice cream carton in your honor. Please come back to BU alive.
In other news, the adventures of Me continue. And today's adventure is definitely one for the books. I got pooped on. Right smack in the middle of the crown of my scalp. I was just sitting outside, minding my own business when I felt something hit my head. I thought it was a bug or a leaf so I reached back to brush it off. But mostly I succeeded in transferring the little turd to my hand. Rest assured, I hurried back inside to wash my hands. But there is a redeeming factor in this usually unfortunate situation: Since I have no hair, washing my head was super easy. A quick pass of the head under the faucet's very hot water and I was back to clean and normal. There were also some soap suds involved, but again, nothing too difficult. There would have been much more swearing and consternation on my part if I did, indeed, have hair, but I was glad, just this once, that I don't.
Otherwise, I am trying to write a paper I was supposed to have written seven months ago. The going is slow, but the going is going. So hopefully I'll get an A... I mean, come on, I've got cancer! Haha, no, I wouldn't pull the Card for a grade. Financial Aid, yes, but they are having none of it. So, back to work I go. Woo. Alrighty, peace.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Monday, July 9, 2007
Hey-O!
I am so damn frustrated. "With what?" you ask? With this stupid white tubey hanging from my chest. As most of us are aware, summer is currently upon us. And with summer, especially in Chicago, comes heat. And, particularly in Chicago, with heat comes humidity. And where there is humidity, you had better believe that sweaty people are not far behind. Now, I may or may not be a naturally sweaty person. But when the heat index is above 100 degrees, as it was today, all natural tendencies can be ignored in the face of the reality that just about any physical activity outside will result in sweating.
Today I was given the task of delivering a letter to our post office. Our post office is maybe a little less than a mile from my house. I didn't have a vehicle today. The result: I walked to the post office, stopped briefly at Starbucks for an iced latte, and walked back to my house. The whole trip took me thirty-five minutes. And then I was back in my air-conditioned house. But I was ridiculously overheated. My head was especially hot. Whoever said cotton breathes is a liar. And here's the best part: the skin beneath the bandage covering my catheter site had perspired. Not a lot, but enough to loosen most of the bandage. The edges came up and probably helped compromise the sterility of my chest-hole. As a reminder, bacteria thrive in warm, moisture-rich environments. Bacteria are bad; bacteria are everywhere. My catheter site, which offers easy germ access to my insides, is a potential breeding ground for bacteria. I am trying to do everything I can to keep the site sterile and covered. Natural perspiration, and the accompanying ooze from within the hole itself, are not things I want to be dealing with right now. So I am frustrated.
Otherwise, I am finding out the hard way that you do not want to poke the hole in your thigh where you have just given yourself a shot. It is surprisingly painful. But I guess these things you learn through experience. Although it is quite possible that I am the only one stupid enough to do that... All very thought-provoking subjects. But I will end this on the happy note that the temperature is twenty degrees cooler since this afternoon, and my catheter seems to have ceased with its oozing, for now. Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow. Oh well. Peace.
Today I was given the task of delivering a letter to our post office. Our post office is maybe a little less than a mile from my house. I didn't have a vehicle today. The result: I walked to the post office, stopped briefly at Starbucks for an iced latte, and walked back to my house. The whole trip took me thirty-five minutes. And then I was back in my air-conditioned house. But I was ridiculously overheated. My head was especially hot. Whoever said cotton breathes is a liar. And here's the best part: the skin beneath the bandage covering my catheter site had perspired. Not a lot, but enough to loosen most of the bandage. The edges came up and probably helped compromise the sterility of my chest-hole. As a reminder, bacteria thrive in warm, moisture-rich environments. Bacteria are bad; bacteria are everywhere. My catheter site, which offers easy germ access to my insides, is a potential breeding ground for bacteria. I am trying to do everything I can to keep the site sterile and covered. Natural perspiration, and the accompanying ooze from within the hole itself, are not things I want to be dealing with right now. So I am frustrated.
Otherwise, I am finding out the hard way that you do not want to poke the hole in your thigh where you have just given yourself a shot. It is surprisingly painful. But I guess these things you learn through experience. Although it is quite possible that I am the only one stupid enough to do that... All very thought-provoking subjects. But I will end this on the happy note that the temperature is twenty degrees cooler since this afternoon, and my catheter seems to have ceased with its oozing, for now. Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow. Oh well. Peace.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Another Friday night.
I know it's petty of me to think thusly, but I can't help but wish I was out dancing and drinking and flirting and doing all those typical twenty-year old things that I usually treat with disdain. I just thought I'd share that when the disparate worlds of cancer patient and twenty-something collide, the result is typically a lot of wishful thinking.
It's actually quite difficult to reconcile the two groups. Around age twenty is typically when we begin to lean towards independence and to scope out the "real world." Many of my friends are living away from home this summer; some are even abroad. This is the beginning of one of the freest and most exciting times of our lives. But then to be told you have cancer, to be treated for cancer, most of your independence is taken from you. This isn't specific to me, either. Many of the other young adults I've met who have cancer have shared this sentiment: you desperately want to be on your own, but, realistically, you need to become again somewhat of a dependent. I know I would pretty much never do my laundry... You also need to accept that there are necessary sacrifices to be made in order to get well, which is probably the hardest part. I'm not tremendously stupid, so I'm not going to go and put myself in a situation where I could get sick, as much as I would love to go to the Dave Matthews Band concert this Sunday. (side note: I really, really want to go). But the part of me that was forced to grow up, the rational part of me, is telling the twenty-year old in me that it's only two more months, and Dave Matthews will still be on tour after this summer.
So basically, these are some of my Friday night ruminations. I doubt these issues are pertinent to many people; I think they are fairly cancer-specific. But there you have it: welcome to my mind. Although I can't leave out my relief that I have this whole next week free of clinic. Nice. Peace.
It's actually quite difficult to reconcile the two groups. Around age twenty is typically when we begin to lean towards independence and to scope out the "real world." Many of my friends are living away from home this summer; some are even abroad. This is the beginning of one of the freest and most exciting times of our lives. But then to be told you have cancer, to be treated for cancer, most of your independence is taken from you. This isn't specific to me, either. Many of the other young adults I've met who have cancer have shared this sentiment: you desperately want to be on your own, but, realistically, you need to become again somewhat of a dependent. I know I would pretty much never do my laundry... You also need to accept that there are necessary sacrifices to be made in order to get well, which is probably the hardest part. I'm not tremendously stupid, so I'm not going to go and put myself in a situation where I could get sick, as much as I would love to go to the Dave Matthews Band concert this Sunday. (side note: I really, really want to go). But the part of me that was forced to grow up, the rational part of me, is telling the twenty-year old in me that it's only two more months, and Dave Matthews will still be on tour after this summer.
So basically, these are some of my Friday night ruminations. I doubt these issues are pertinent to many people; I think they are fairly cancer-specific. But there you have it: welcome to my mind. Although I can't leave out my relief that I have this whole next week free of clinic. Nice. Peace.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Today was a nice break.
Happy Independence Day and such. I celebrated --sort of-- in the most patriotic of ways: My mom and I went to a movie; we bought dishes at JC Penney; we gorged ourselves on way too much delicious pizza. Hollywood, consumerism, and overeating. Thank God for the U.S. of A. But really, today was a much-needed reprieve from this week's stresses.
Monday was Day One of course VI of my chemotherapy. I received one spinal tap and two infusion drugs. I am not sure if it is easier or harder to handle the various procedures when I know what to expect. I dread the pain, of course, but I also know that it will be over quickly. The spinal taps, or lumbar punctures, are not fun, but they are not as bad as they sound. The worst part is the next day when you can feel your spine again, and you mostly feel pain where you were stabbed, repeatedly, with a six-inch needle. But I can tell my back is getting better; my walking is already easier, even after only two days. Yesterday, I only received one three-hour infusion, but my doctor also ordered me blood. So, clinic time was drawn out to about seven hours. And tomorrow will be a repeat of yesterday's chemo and blood infusions. Like I said, today was most welcome. There is very good news though: after tomorrow, I don't have to go back to clinic for almost a week and a half. I plan on doing some serious relaxing next week. My body needs a break. Well, what my body really needs is for this all to be finished, but that's the next step. Right now I am focused on getting through tomorrow.
Worth noting, briefly, is that Boston University starts classes in exactly two months. Most of my friends probably don't want to think about school at all right now, but I am pretty darn excited. I know the next two months will fly by at a snail's pace, but that's okay. Tomorrow is one more drug and one more day closer to the end. Go 'Merica.
Monday was Day One of course VI of my chemotherapy. I received one spinal tap and two infusion drugs. I am not sure if it is easier or harder to handle the various procedures when I know what to expect. I dread the pain, of course, but I also know that it will be over quickly. The spinal taps, or lumbar punctures, are not fun, but they are not as bad as they sound. The worst part is the next day when you can feel your spine again, and you mostly feel pain where you were stabbed, repeatedly, with a six-inch needle. But I can tell my back is getting better; my walking is already easier, even after only two days. Yesterday, I only received one three-hour infusion, but my doctor also ordered me blood. So, clinic time was drawn out to about seven hours. And tomorrow will be a repeat of yesterday's chemo and blood infusions. Like I said, today was most welcome. There is very good news though: after tomorrow, I don't have to go back to clinic for almost a week and a half. I plan on doing some serious relaxing next week. My body needs a break. Well, what my body really needs is for this all to be finished, but that's the next step. Right now I am focused on getting through tomorrow.
Worth noting, briefly, is that Boston University starts classes in exactly two months. Most of my friends probably don't want to think about school at all right now, but I am pretty darn excited. I know the next two months will fly by at a snail's pace, but that's okay. Tomorrow is one more drug and one more day closer to the end. Go 'Merica.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
A small nugget
The past few days have been good days for me. Productive, but not overly so; tiring, but not to the point of exhaustion; fun, but nothing particularly worth mentioning. In short, they have been normal days. The only thing notable is that my catheter site has started oozing again. As with the last time this happened, I think it is because of the heat. For the newcomers to my account of life with cancer, my catheter is a white tube that was inserted under my skin and goes over my collarbone and ends somewhere in my chest cavity, lurking above my heart. I get chemo pushed into it and blood drawn from it. What it means, though, is that there is a small hole about three inches to the left of my right armpit. When my body overheats, strange, gross ooze tends to find its way out of the hole. This is bad because no moisture is supposed to be near the site. Moisture creates a breeding ground for bacteria, which in turn could easily enter my body and do very, very bad things to me. So, hopefully tomorrow I will figure out the ooze situation.
Because... Tomorrow is when I start up chemo again. I am NOT looking forward to this, but the sooner it's over, then, well, the sooner it's over, I suppose. I purposely ate a lot and delicious food today, knowing that for the next two weeks-ish, I will not really want to eat. Good times. If I'm semi-conscious, I will be sure to update tomorrow evening with how the various procedures and drug administrations went. 'Till then, adieu.
Because... Tomorrow is when I start up chemo again. I am NOT looking forward to this, but the sooner it's over, then, well, the sooner it's over, I suppose. I purposely ate a lot and delicious food today, knowing that for the next two weeks-ish, I will not really want to eat. Good times. If I'm semi-conscious, I will be sure to update tomorrow evening with how the various procedures and drug administrations went. 'Till then, adieu.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Shoes? (also, this is really long. no promises re: interesting factor)
Shoes! New shoes, to be exact. They are green and white and suede, and they make me a bit more happy. Plus, they were satisfyingly cheap. What more could one want on a cold and grey Thursday?
So, enough twaddle. (look it up. great word.) Yesterday I went to my young-adult group downtown. An issue was raised that gave me cause to think. I wanted to write about it, but I needed some time to try and articulate what I understood emotionally. Basically, for the three of us present, we determined that having cancer led to important pretty important changes for our lives and futures. I have decided not to double major with English; I want to put my energies towards photojournalism. Another person wants to change his major from poli-sci to philosophy. And the other person decided to finally leave her job for a better one. None of us would have reached these decisions if we hadn't had to reevaluate our lives with the eyes of cancer survivors. Our group leader brought up the question of why do most people become so complacent in life, and what is different about having cancer that it causes people to change (sometimes) how they view life? Here's the conclusion I have come to: (Please note, my conclusion is based on being 20 and not having to take care of a family. I'm sure a forty-year old woman with three children might have a different view.) Having cancer causes a major shift in priorities. Your priority becomes yourself and your health. It isn't that you become self-centered. It's more that you become more attuned to what you need or want. Your health depends on your ability to listen to what your body and instincts are telling you. For me, and probably for many people, I think I used to have an attitude similar to, "Okay, this current life isn't pleasant, but I can deal with it. Something will eventually change." I never honestly tried to figure out how to make my life better. I think I just figured it would automatically become so. But now, I have been forced to evaluate my life and myself, and I realized that I need to stand up for myself, to myself. I wouldn't say I'm a totally new person, but I am certainly stronger. And the strength I've found to help me get through this has transfered to all facets of my life, including the strength to accept what I want to do. It sounds silly, but most of us can't or won't admit to ourselves what we really want, and even fewer go out and try for it. Deciding not to double major in English sounds like a minor thing, but the amount of time and energy I'll be able to focus on photography is huge. I'm going to minor in English; I'll never ever let my love of it go. But I really want to pursue photojournalism. And now I freely accept that. Anyway, before you go blind reading from a screen, let me finish this all up. I know it's difficult to take someone else's experiences and apply them towards your own life. I know that many people can't quite visualize having cancer. But I also know that I am trying really hard to illustrate to whomever might be reading this that the conclusions I reach about life are applicable to probably anyone. You don't need a terminal illness to hit you over the head before you say, oh wait, maybe that's not how my life should be. Haha, think of it like I got sick so you don't have to. Maybe. Or maybe I am actually just rambling somewhat incoherently. Either way, I'm not too worried about it. But good luck nonetheless. Pax.
So, enough twaddle. (look it up. great word.) Yesterday I went to my young-adult group downtown. An issue was raised that gave me cause to think. I wanted to write about it, but I needed some time to try and articulate what I understood emotionally. Basically, for the three of us present, we determined that having cancer led to important pretty important changes for our lives and futures. I have decided not to double major with English; I want to put my energies towards photojournalism. Another person wants to change his major from poli-sci to philosophy. And the other person decided to finally leave her job for a better one. None of us would have reached these decisions if we hadn't had to reevaluate our lives with the eyes of cancer survivors. Our group leader brought up the question of why do most people become so complacent in life, and what is different about having cancer that it causes people to change (sometimes) how they view life? Here's the conclusion I have come to: (Please note, my conclusion is based on being 20 and not having to take care of a family. I'm sure a forty-year old woman with three children might have a different view.) Having cancer causes a major shift in priorities. Your priority becomes yourself and your health. It isn't that you become self-centered. It's more that you become more attuned to what you need or want. Your health depends on your ability to listen to what your body and instincts are telling you. For me, and probably for many people, I think I used to have an attitude similar to, "Okay, this current life isn't pleasant, but I can deal with it. Something will eventually change." I never honestly tried to figure out how to make my life better. I think I just figured it would automatically become so. But now, I have been forced to evaluate my life and myself, and I realized that I need to stand up for myself, to myself. I wouldn't say I'm a totally new person, but I am certainly stronger. And the strength I've found to help me get through this has transfered to all facets of my life, including the strength to accept what I want to do. It sounds silly, but most of us can't or won't admit to ourselves what we really want, and even fewer go out and try for it. Deciding not to double major in English sounds like a minor thing, but the amount of time and energy I'll be able to focus on photography is huge. I'm going to minor in English; I'll never ever let my love of it go. But I really want to pursue photojournalism. And now I freely accept that. Anyway, before you go blind reading from a screen, let me finish this all up. I know it's difficult to take someone else's experiences and apply them towards your own life. I know that many people can't quite visualize having cancer. But I also know that I am trying really hard to illustrate to whomever might be reading this that the conclusions I reach about life are applicable to probably anyone. You don't need a terminal illness to hit you over the head before you say, oh wait, maybe that's not how my life should be. Haha, think of it like I got sick so you don't have to. Maybe. Or maybe I am actually just rambling somewhat incoherently. Either way, I'm not too worried about it. But good luck nonetheless. Pax.
Monday, June 25, 2007
I suppose it's about that time again.
It's time I get to fill you in on my cancer-fun day! And rest assured, today was a cancer-fun day. Today, I had to go to clinic to meet with my doctor. Just a routine check up, nothing terribly exciting. They drew blood; they analyzed the blood; they sent me to wait for my doctor; I waited for my doctor; I waited some more for my doctor; I saw my doctor but had to wait while she clarified something with another doctor; my doctor returned, checked my lungs, checked my heartbeat, told me I looked pale; we decided on a blood transfusion; and I left clinic not knowing when I would be starting the next round of chemo. 90 minute trip stretched to 3 1/2 hours. Woo, inefficiency! I have since learned that my next session of chemo will start one week from today. This means that while I will not be in the hospital for the Fourth of July, I will be smack in the middle of one rough week of chemo. I can't get over how different this year has been so far, and it's not even halfway through yet. But I plan on enjoying this next week of health, maybe even sneaking in some early fireworks at Navy Pier. We'll see how things shape up. At least I'll have some more blood.
And now for another look into the life of me, with cancer. One of the most common questions people ask me is, "How do you keep yourself busy?" I have an array of answers, ranging from a blank stare and halfhearted laugh to an in-depth description of my musical and photographic adventures. But I realized yesterday what it is that I actually do. I read. I read a lot. Over the past almost seven months, I have read 14 books. This doesn't sound like very many, but most of them have been pretty heavy novels. And these are the books I can remember. I have probably read closer to 18 or so, but I can't remember the others. Those would have been the books I randomly picked up while rifling through the stacks at my library. This also doesn't include Vanity Fair or Anna Karenina, neither of which I could bring myself to finish. Or the growing list of poetry. So that's what I do. I only decided to start keeping track of my literary record about three days ago. Hopefully the list will continue to grow, and hopefully I will continue to pick engaging and thought-provoking novels, memoirs, and non-fiction. Suggestions always welcome. Anywhoo, that's about it from me for now. Peace.
And now for another look into the life of me, with cancer. One of the most common questions people ask me is, "How do you keep yourself busy?" I have an array of answers, ranging from a blank stare and halfhearted laugh to an in-depth description of my musical and photographic adventures. But I realized yesterday what it is that I actually do. I read. I read a lot. Over the past almost seven months, I have read 14 books. This doesn't sound like very many, but most of them have been pretty heavy novels. And these are the books I can remember. I have probably read closer to 18 or so, but I can't remember the others. Those would have been the books I randomly picked up while rifling through the stacks at my library. This also doesn't include Vanity Fair or Anna Karenina, neither of which I could bring myself to finish. Or the growing list of poetry. So that's what I do. I only decided to start keeping track of my literary record about three days ago. Hopefully the list will continue to grow, and hopefully I will continue to pick engaging and thought-provoking novels, memoirs, and non-fiction. Suggestions always welcome. Anywhoo, that's about it from me for now. Peace.
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