Sunday, September 11, 2016

Hey, I think I might be okay

So the doctor called me this weekend at some ungodly hour in the morning while I was trying to sleep in but I forgive them because they brought me good news (though they didn't seem quite as excited as I would have been having delivered pretty good news?).
The results from my cortisol test came back normal so I'm not so worried about brain tumors and what not. Which is great.


I suppose I can continue about my days now like I'm not awaiting a death sentence. I won't be dying unless it's in the way ze millennials do nowadays


If you see me in public come give me a high five. Things are looking up. TAKE THAT MERCURY RETROGRADE / HEALTH PROBLEMS!

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Dear Anxiety/Sincerely, Someone Who Says "I Want to Die" Way Too Often

Everywhere I turn these days it seems like there's some sort of high stress situation waiting for me.


Whether it be starting up school again, going to work, dealing with family/friend drama, or just waiting for these cortisol test results, I'm pretty much in panic mode 70% of the day. I haven't had enough time in my day to deal with what I'm going through and what my friends are going through and it's pretty hard sometimes to just tell people you need some space to figure your shit out. I'm working on a nice way to word all of that without offending the masses. 
As for actual medical problemos, the hospital's lab won't have results for me until Monday (but that's Labor Day?) or Wednesday? so the waiting process to hear back about what is literally related to stress levels (among other things) is the worst. How am I supposed to maintain that healthy balance between a stressed out state and a normal state when it feels like my reaction to stressful situations never "shuts off"? At some point, telling yourself to "just breathe" doesn't really cut it anymore. 




                            

So if anyone has some tips and tricks to calm yourself down in high stress/high anxiety situations let me know. 
I'm not against the use of anti-anxiety meds (in moderation//and if prescribed by your doctor) but I'm barely the type of person to take Advil when I have a headache so taking something along the lines of Ativan, Xanax, etc. on a daily basis seems like a lot....and something tells me that repeatedly squeezing a stress ball in public places will probably only freak other people out (and also not be all that helpful anyways). 

                                     

                                     



Friday, August 19, 2016

Worrisome ranting // weird maybes

The best way I can sum up today's doctor's appointment is probably with a few tears and a little bit (let's be real--it was a lot) of pacing around small spaces.

I went in to my endocrinologist today hoping to just hear that -if anything- my thyroid med dosage would be upped a bit. No big deal (minus the fact that my heart rate is a little fast anyways so that even if I do technically need a bigger dose I need to weigh the good and the bad, etc etc.) Whatever.

I hadn't gotten labs done before this visit like I should have so I won't know for a little while how everything has been doing. However, since May I've lost *about* five pounds so I guess that's good.


Unfortunately, my cortisol levels are pretty high which could mean a few different things for me--

It could be linked to my use of birth control which sometimes throws off the levels from that test a bit...so I'll be taking a salivary test at the end of this weekend or early this upcoming week to send a better, more accurate test in to the lab. I'm hoping it's this.

If it's something bad, an option being tumor(s) in my brain or above my kidneys (FUCK FUCK FUCK), well, I guess we'll have to remove them somehow (Hi, I've been screaming internally for the past hour or so). If it's not, and please God let me just have this ONE, then we'll figure out the source of the problem and fix it the best way we possibly can.
Of course, like the anxious, high strung 22 year old that I am, I left the office calmly and once out of sight from my doctor proceeded to go into meltdown mode because *almost every time I have gone into the doctor and tried to hope for the best it hasn't gone all that well for me. That's me being a pessimist. Or not trying to jinx it. Or something. I don't know. I'm a little busy freaking out here.

Here are some anxious gifs to lighten the mood or make you more anxious or me more anxious or I DON'T KNOW:


I'll leave some updates here when I get them. Until then, I would appreciate some good luck sent my way. Or pillows to hold.


Wednesday, July 20, 2016

This month has been chock full of obnoxious, time consuming doctors appointments. As much as I love being stabbed in the arm and sitting in cold rooms staring at muted purple, yellow, and green curtains or being stared at by all of the other cancer patients...well...


I've just about hit the two year mark post treatment so it looks like I won't have to visit Norris to see my oncologist until January "unless anything happens." 

Don't you just love that? Congratulations!... but just in case you start almost dying again for no reason you know where to find us! 
The last thing I said was "...well sometimes I experience slight chest pain?" to which I received a very quick and concerned "Oh no don't say that! Come back if it gets worse!" 
So that's cool. 


                       

I'm so tired of going there. I'd say it's nice having people recognize you but when your oncologist, the nurse practitioner, the other nurses, the scheduler, and even your local pharmacist know you by name I guess I start to have mixed feelings about it all. Do I really go there that often? (the answer is yes) 


                       

It's really hard to feel this way while also feeling like you can't express how over something you are that everybody is probably already over having to hear about at this point. I mean how many times can you really tell someone "wow this sucked" and bring it up again without them thinking "Ugh this cancer shit again. Can't you just get over it? You've been sort of okay for like two years"
At least...that's what it feels like over here. So if you're one of the few people I've trusted enough to be open about how over doctors and everything else I am and you happen to be reading this-- I'm sorry....And for the 200 some people on snapchat that see me post at doctor's offices all the time... I guess I'm sorry to you too?


                     


Saturday, July 9, 2016

Health Down-dates

Well...


I guess I figured I'd be on the up and up with these new thyroid meds---of course whenever something decent starts to happen my body's immediate reaction is basically a slap to the face.


Unfortunately, my most recent stab to the arm left me with disappointing results. My TSH levels are high which pretty much mean that I need an even higher dose of Levothyroxine--75MCG instead of 50--which isn't all that much but...you know...taking meds is never any fun. Similarly, my cortisol levels are a little high too...which could potentially be a symptom of some rare form of God knows what syndrome or disease or something.


No. This doesn't mean I'm contagious. Don't be silly.



This really only means that I've had a decent reason behind being so fat and lazy beside being "out for the summer."


So we'll see how this dosage works out for me and my TSH levels in about six weeks---
In the meantime, I'll be visiting my oncologist and my health center within the next 3-10 days for more checkups and what not and dealing with whatever summer sniffles I've been dealing with. Allergies? Cold? I can't ever really tell?


                             

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

A Doctor A Day Keeps the Apple Away?

The list of complications, side-effects, and doctors I have to visit post-cancer treatment seem rather lengthy and frustrating to me.



Sometimes being "stable" doesn't seem so stable at all. And after an hour long (plus) wait at the endocrinologist the other day just for a follow up on my most recent medical problem, I think my feelings are pretty much the same about it all.


I've been on thyroid medication (treatment mentioned in the last post) for over a month now and it seems that I have lost about 4 pounds...which is great considering that I had gained 15 pounds a few months ago. I'm still not too sure about its impact on my fatigue but I've also been going to bed on "summer hours" so that could very well be my fault.



Anyways, this means that the thyroid meds have been doing at least SOME of their job--of course, I'm telling you this PRE-blood test results. We have to rule out a few other things--rare forms of this or that--who knows...I almost never fully listen to doctor jargon...to make sure we don't have to change up the medication or that I need other treatment for blankity blank, etc.


Hopefully I'll be getting a call sometime this week. 
Otherwise, I will be visiting my oncologist for a checkup on July 13th. 

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Levothy-justkillmenow

After my mid-day blowup at the registration desk demon and a couple days of waiting for test results my endocrinologist decided that it was best that I be put on thyroid medication----not because my thyroid is all THAT messed up but because I'm symptomatic enough that we might as well just take care of it now. She prescribed me 50MCG of Levothyroxine which not only sounds terrifying but pretty much is considering that one of the side effects is hair loss "for the first few months"?? Hair loss, hair thinning, whatever....I already lost my hair once and I just got it back so I'm really not up for dealing with thinning hair on top of major fatigue and weight gain.
                          
Aside from that you have to take these pills in the morning 30 minutes before you eat anything....which is about to suck because we all know that when you're told you can't do something you extra feel the need to do it. So...sweet....30 minutes of me being really angry that I can't eat. Cool.

Fortunately, this should also help boost my metabolism eventually and make me waaaay less tired all the time. I had to take an Ativan yesterday just to get a solid seven hours of sleep (and from 10am-5pm, perfect snooze time, right?)
---but can you blame me? Living next to a half preschool daycare whatever/half Baptist Church thing = screaming children 8am-? Monday-whenever and some extra loud worship on Sundays. But hey...I learned their song about the days of the week by heart.

I digress...

I will be starting the thyroid medication (technically) this morning (5/17/16) and will hopefully feel some sort of POSITIVE change within the next six weeks. Wish me luck!

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

"Ma'am, You're Going To Need To Calm Down"

I went to my cancer hospital yesterday to get some blood-work done.
                            
Unfortunately, I had gotten there at 4:30 and most of the phlebotomy room staff leaves around 4:00 to run around and do other important doctor-tasks--most probably that of the stab-people-in-the-arms-repeatedly kind. So I walked past the seemingly unstaffed and closed front desk to where I could call someone to come do the work for me.
                            
When a man finally came down to where I was waiting he told me I had to check in at the front desk...but as we all already know, it was unstaffed and pretty much closed. So he brought me to another very angry looking woman instead who was sitting in an office and asked her to register me so he could take the tests and be on his way. He asked to take a seat and I apologized to her (why?) and she just replied with a very quick "It's FINE" without even looking up at me. I brushed it off and let it go.
After she finished whatever it was she was doing she asked me for my patient card...which I had forgotten for the first time in a very long time. She went off on a little rant about how I shouldn't be forgetting it and how it makes it so much easier on them when we bring them and asked some questions like "Did you lose it? Or did you just leave it at home?" with probably the rudest sounding tone you may have ever heard in a CANCER HOSPITAL. At this point I was already thinking to myself:
                                 
but of course I had to keep my cool because she still hadn't really done anything to help me. So I told her my name and she spent a literal 2 minutes looking me up and asking me my day of birth and what not. Then of course came the part where she had to print out my wristband. She asked me what doctor sent me and I replied with a simple and easy "Dr. Nguyen from Endocrinology" to which she replied "Do you not know their first name? Do you know how many of those we have in this hospital?"
At this point I am doing everything I can to hold in an explosion of anger and I tell her that that's all the information I have and that there cannot possibly be that many Nguyens specifically in endocrinology. She shot me some bs about how she can't look up something specific and how her computer doesn't hold any of the orders for certain tests and then slaps the name of my normal oncologist onto the wristband and sends me on my way saying "he can figure it out in the lab"....which seems sort of unprofessional? Perhaps illegal? Maybe not illegal but...I don't know...wrong?
She prints the band and puts it on my wrist and I get up seething and right before I exit she says "YOU'RE WELCOME."
And you guys.....well....
                             
I turned around so fast I'm surprised nothing caught on fire. And then I raised hell. And I am both proud and embarrassed to say that these are my exact words:
"I didn't say thank you FOR A REASON. You were rude this entire time. (she interrupted me here and I basically told her not to interrupt me) You can't be giving patients going through post-chemotherapy bullshit any shit when you are literally paid to look names up in your fucking system. I don't see you getting a needle in YOUR arm today. You are a LITERAL.PIECE.OF.SHIT."
With no response...or at least no wait time on my part for a response from what I assumed to be the spawn of Satan...I walked away quickly while a security guard yelled at me "MA'AM, YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO CALM DOWN" to which I responded with a quick shake of my head and then disappeared into the nearest bathroom to cry for like 3 minutes straight. MAN WAS IT A GOOD DAY TO BE ME.

So moral of the story is....you probably shouldn't let your anger and pent up teenage angst from three years ago get the best of you...at least not in a hospital....and not in front of your dad....
and IF YOU'RE WORKING IN A HOSPITAL WHERE PEOPLE ARE DYING EVERY DAY MAYBE YOU SHOULD BE A LITTLE MORE PATIENT AND NOT BE SO RUDE BECAUSE YOUR JOB CANNOT POSSIBLY BE THAT HARD. THANKS. COOL. SORRY. SORT OF. NOT REALLY.
Sort of.


A Failure To Communicate

Every visit to a doctor’s office includes the obligatory moment where the doctor asks, “Do you have any questions?” This moment frequently occurs after hearing hard-to-swallow news or incoherent doctor-speak. Not unlike your waitress coming to you right when you have the biggest mouthful of food in your entire life to ask you how your meal is, your doctor is required to make sure you don’t have any complaints and hopes to God for a simple response in return. In the case that you do indeed have a legitimate concern, your doctor will generally refer you to someone else, the nearest information pamphlet, or to a website they were told to promote. These are all ways to avoid having to communicate with you themselves. Worse, they may refer you to your nearest support group that only intends on fixing your problems with off brand makeup and 10% discounts at the hospital’s overpriced wig store.

The failure to communicate is complex, and it involves avoidance, information overload, and an issue with information reliability. Does the doctor just give me a lawyer approved, memorized speech? Am I even able to process what he or she is trying to tell me?  Is the information I am receiving credible? Just because a sentence is grammatically correct does not make it true.      
           

Doctor-patient communication is central to cancer patients’ quality of life and satisfaction (Ong et al., 2000). However, studies of cancer patients show a general dissatisfaction with their physician’s communications (see for example: Fonfa, 2007; Lee et al., 2014; Ojukwu et al., 2015; Trimborn et al., 2013). One reason for physicians avoidance of communication may be fear of lawsuits (Carrier et al., 2010). Another reason for failure to communicate is the questionable reliability of information. It is hard to say which forms of communication are trustworthy and which are not. When a doctor is unable or unwilling to provide satisfactory answers, patients sometimes resort to google’s endless supply of medical advice and cures. Is honey anti-cancer? Does the Bible hold secret healing messages? And YOU’RE IN trouble if you aren’t drinking URINE to cure your cancer!    
              
                                  
The problem with the information superhighway is that it is hard to tell whether or not you have pulled into a library or a souvenir stand. So many of these “helpful” websites use the formats of scholarly articles, including official looking tables and charts; 
                        
Unfortunately, so many of these apparently reliable sources are just advertisements created to make a quick profit from gullible sick people. The reason this works so well is because patients with high expectations are looking for alternatives that provide a better chance of recovery than the treatments that their physicians may or may not give them. Patients are seeking out information so desperately because of the lack of doctor-approved information that they are turning to sources that promise easy, inexpensive cures. Of course, part of the reason why patients are not receiving this information before they go online is because doctors do not have enough training, information, or access to (sometimes non-existent) studies on long-term results from complementary and alternative care options. Moreover, a physician is putting their job at risk if they provide false or potentially harmful recommendations.
Beyond the worldwide web, there are almost as many pieces of advice about cancer treatment as there are people we encounter in our day to day lives. In my own experience, one of the strangest conversations I have had came from the father of one of my high school friends. A few weeks after my lymphoma diagnosis, I ran into him in front of my neighborhood’s local smoothie joint. After a very brief expression of sympathy about my diagnosis, he launched into an extensive explanation on the wonders of baking soda and its healing properties. Sure enough, after a few clicks through search engines I found just under one million references debating whether or not the baking soda cure was going to help me with more than just a bad case of acid indigestion. Along the same lines, I had been told to stick strictly to an alkaline diet, and/or to exercise frequently and eat many fruits and vegetables and juice just about everything. These all seemed like good ideas until I was unable to sit up in bed for more than ten minutes and until my doctor banned me from “anything that came out of the ground” because of my compromised immune system and the dangers of e.coli.
Another problem interfering with a patient’s understanding of their treatment is the myriad of voices offering different information all at once. Even when the information one receives is reliable, it is hard to understand and decipher what is the most important. Patients are frequently surrounded by well-meaning people all with different and sometimes conflicting advice.  
                                     
                                 
This chaos of ideas can lead to poor decision making and misinformation. One health care provider told me that undergoing radiation treatment would increase my survival rate by 50% whereas another physician in the same building told me 5%. After providing me with such inconsistent information (which also clashed with Doctor Google’s extensive radiation statistical data) I was presented with the responsibility of making the hard decision myself. And even when the information is consistent, it is not always possible to make sense of it all. What does it mean that being treated with radiation is associated with a 5% higher rate of heart disease? Is that a big number? Does that factor into the 5% survival rate it so promised? What is the survival rate if I get heart disease after trying to increase my odds of survival? Will baking soda help?
                                  
                                                                             
            
It seems that some doctors “tend to overestimate their ability in communication” (Ha et al., 2010). So what can I recommend? There is no guarantee that there is a single solution to this complex problem, but a good start would be the recognition by physicians that poor communication exists and can be as harmful as poor treatment decisions. Medical institutions need to take physician’s communication skills as seriously as they take medical skills. This would include creating specialized training as well as regular assessment of physicians with feedback from patients. Furthermore, conducting more studies on complementary and alternative medicine could prevent patients from making the wrong choice and doing more harm than good.

Carrier, Emily R., James D. Reschovsky, Michelle M. Mello, Ralph C. Mayrell, and David Katz.
“Physicians’ Fears of Malpractive Lawsuits Are Not Assuaged By Tort Reforms.” Health
Affairs 29.9: 1585-1592. Web.
Fonfa, Ann E. "Patient Perspectives: Barriers to Complementary and Alternative Medicine
Therapies Create Problems for Patients and Survivors." Integrative Cancer Therapies
6.3 (2007): 297-300. Web.
Ha, Jennifer Fong, Dip Surg Anat, Nancy Longnecker. “Doctor-Patient Communication: A
Review.” The Ochsner Journal 10.1 (2010): 38-43. Web.
Lee, Richard T., Andrea Barbo, Gabriel Lopez, Amal Melhem-Bertrandt, Heather Lin,
Olufunmilayo I. Olopade, and Farr A. Curlin. "National Survey of US Oncologists'
Knowledge, Attitudes, and Practice Patterns Regarding Herb and Supplement Use by
Patients With Cancer." Journal of Clinical Oncology 32.36 (2014): 4096-101. Web.
Ojukwu, Mary, Justice Mbizo, Bryan Leyva, Oluwadamilola Olaku, and Farah Zia.
"Complementary and Alternative Medicine Use Among Overweight and Obese Cancer
Survivors in the United States." Integrative Cancer Therapies 14.6 (2015): 503-14. Web.
Trimborn, A., B. Senf, K. Muenstedt, J. Buentzel, O. Micke, R. Muecke, F. J. Prott, S. Wicker,
and J. Huebner. "Attitude of Employees of a University Clinic to Complementary and
Alternative Medicine in Oncology." Annals of Oncology 24.10 (2013): 2641-645. Web.


Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Where I Am Now & What Lies Ahead

I am stable.
Hear that, you guys? I've gotten to say that for a while now when people ask. I'm not sure what "remission" is for me, but I am stable and the mass that was above my heart is inactive. I don't think that's as satisfying to the people asking me as the word "remission" is but for me, it means I'm not in need of treatment and everything is going as planned.
I am stable. I am stable. I am stable.

         

Unfortunately, pretty much as promised post-treatment, my thyroid is doing all sorts of crazy things and my weight has been fluctuating (and NOT in the direction I wish it would) considering my somewhat improved diet/food choices and my more frequent trips to the gym---and I'm all over the place with my sleep schedule. I've been experiencing a lot more fatigue lately and have needed to nap more than usual. I will be heading to an endocrinologist in a few days to see if blood tests show signs of it worsening and to see whether or not I'll need thyroid medication now. I will have to take it at some point, but I guess I'd rather just have it now than have to deal with even more weight gain and fatigue. It's just not a pleasant experience overall--especially as a 21 year old girl that's still in college whose metabolism should be working so she can drink cocktails a plenty---
A-hem, body? Help a girl out? Please?

Aside from the more "real" issues, my hair is still growin' and is still curly? Mind you, it was stick straight and really long before so give a girl a break--I'm adapting. Sort of. Let me gripe about it. Whatever, it's still growing back so at least I have hair.

I don't have another checkup with my oncologist until July so as far as I'm concerned, I'm doing well and can proceed with summer freely.
So raise your glass with the craft cocktail of your choice, screw your weird metabolism (for the time being--sorry, body, I'm tryin' to get it fixed!), and say hello to 22, body. May 22 be better on your body than 20 was and let's toast to stability.
I am stable.
I am STABLE.
I AM STABLE!!!!

Friday, April 8, 2016

Voice Post

The author of http://dlbcljourney.blogspot.com/ was diagnosed with cancer back in 2009 as a 26/27 year old primary school teacher from Melbourne, Australia who was used to being pretty healthy. Her writing style is very casual, generally to the point, and like the woman who I had written about in my profile post, very honest. A lot of her writing is sort of stream of consciousness-like but I find that these sorts of blogs/writings are more easily relatable because the author isn't as fixed on being grammatically correct as they are in getting all of their thoughts and ideas across on a page for everyone to see.
Like most blogs I have found about cancer (including my own), this one seems to be made both for the author herself, as it is therapeutic in some ways, as well as for others (family, friends, whoever else might happen upon her blog) to keep them up to date and inform them on everything cancer that she knows about from her own personal experience.
She really likes to set the scenes in some of her posts (there are only 40(?) on there) starting posts like: "Two years ago I was in the car on the way to spend some money in the post-Christmas sales when I received a call from my oncologist..." which is nice because it makes it more personal but also puts a little humorous twist on a rather grim topic. I tend to do that as well--a very "Now picture this...!" moment.
After all, the top of her blog promises the reader with story-like posts:
This is a a strange story for me to write. It will at times be a sad story, in many ways it will be happy and perhaps even funny. It will be an adventure that entails anxiety, flirting with danger, fortitude in the face of adversity and many attempts to look on the bright side. There will also no doubt be moments of anguish and despair, and a lot of uncertainty. It's a story that will hopefully be cathartic for me, but also interesting and perhaps informative or even entertaining for other.
She has used words like "gobbledygook" to explain what comes out of a doctor's mouth instead of a simple answer and also recognizes that we too, as cancer patients and or survivors give a sort of gobbledygook answer to our friends and family that don't understand doctor-speak either. For them, she tries her best to explain in simpler terms the disease and the treatment process.
Then she eventually talks about hair loss. In 2010, the posts are titled like "Hair today, gone tomorrow" sort of brushing off (not the best phrasing here woops) a problem that many cancer patients have to go through but 2011 rolls around and her posts sounds more like "I want my hair back." explaining how she is struggling to cope with the hair loss and hair regrowth as her wedding date nears. I so appreciate that she is able to show the very real emotions that come with these side effects and life after treatment.
In the post "I'm over it" she describes how she feels as "crappy" and goes through a list of things she does that should prove that she should be healthy asking many "why me and not them?" sorts of questions. And then she loops back through her emotions again saying:
...I'm really just over it. It's really hard to keep pumping your body full of poisons that make you feel really crappy and tired, without a guarantee of being well at the end.
But even through all of the disappointment she goes on to say that she's just go to "keep focusing on the good things" and ends her post thanking everyone that has been there for her (mainly friends and family) and I think that this really gets across the truth behind cancer really having its ups and downs in coping and crashing.


Profile Post

From what I gathered, jdolce27 of mynhlfight.wordpress.com is in her 30's, a teacher at a residential college, an owner of two cats (her husband, Jeff, is the other animal parent), and a cancer survivor. Her posts are all very relatable to me considering that we were and continue to still have similar experiences. A lot of the way she has written over the span of her blog have been updates on her own health as well as general information about everything involved (from the disease to the treatment process/side effects to life in remission and everything in between) for those that may not know as much as we do on the topic. She has been blogging since 2013 and was diagnosed in 2012 and posted every month for a while until 2014/2015 where there were a few scattered posts/updates and then her latest on March 28, 2016 acknowledging that she hadn't been writing in a while but updated us all on her cancer status and what side effects and life changes still linger with her today. Her blog's layout is pretty bland and simple (grey on grey) leaving no room for distraction from the message she may be trying to get across. Though it may seem a little more boring/depressing than some of her posts I feel as though it just makes everything easier to read and go through. Her blogroll shows that she has a lot of information on the topic-- after all, it is a blog on her long, personal journey battling cancer and her comments to the many questions/statements about how thankful people are that she is posting about this at all shows that she cares and is glad to be a source of relatable or easy to understand information.
Her first post was so genuine to me because she stated that she felt "the need to blog about [my] experiences (in as honest a way as [I] can muster) so that my friends and family can easily keep up with [my] progress" and that is exactly what I want to achieve with my own posts. The process to her being diagnosed was almost exactly like mine-- starting with symptoms that were so normal that doctors almost immediately overlooked them and ending in an x-ray that would "set off a domino effect that would ultimately lead to [my] general cancer diagnosis...and first chemotherapy treatment eight days later." A post like this scares most people because the second they read "cold symptoms" they basically go psycho-web-MD and self diagnosis themselves with a crazy disease that they'll probably never get...but it also makes known the importance of following up with a doctor if something really doesn't feel right with you and that will always be important to me from now on.
In her most recent post 'Things no one tells you about being a survivor..."  she basically writes a letter to her past self that was about to be diagnosed talking about what there was to expect down the line. I agreed with almost everything in her list from side effects with neuropathy, immune system problems, and "chemo brain." This very real post shows to her viewers that even years later and in remission, a cancer survivor's life really revolves around their battle with cancer even after all the treatment is finished. It also, to me, says that the author cares enough about her audience and the cancer community to take the time to update them after about an eight month absence from her own blog.

On Getting Better

When everything started to get better I wasn't 100% sure how to feel.
My last chemotherapy treatment was on Halloween of 2014 and I left with a sort of weird feeling in my stomach. Yeah, I was nauseous, sure. But that wasn't it. I just didn't feel done. But I was. I hopefully still am.
When my taste slowly returned, I was happy to have it back so I started to eat everything I had missed the taste of.
I was finally able to eat "things that came from the ground" again so I had lettuce in an Urth CaffĂ© sandwich and onions and lettuce in my In-n-Out double-double and I only worried a little! 
When I got the feeling back in my hands I was happy my handwriting didn't look like a four-year-old boy's. Just in time for school notes! Yay...school...
My hair started to grow back and it was weird because it short and curly and I hated it so I wore a wig for a while...but it was growing back. IT WAS GROWING BACK. (but I had to deal with the beginning of school and wearing a wig so that was frustrating....BUT IT WAS GROWING BACK.)
Scans kept coming back looking just fine but I was always scared before I got the news that something would come up active. So scans were okay and I was still okay and I still didn't need any more treatment. Cool. Breathe. 

Getting better is hard sometimes. I went from not being able to stand for long periods of time or walking very far to being able to stand for much longer and walk five blocks without feeling like I'm on the verge of death. I can hold more than just a notebook in my hands and not shake and feel faint. 
I am going to the gym more to get my strength back up and I am slowly noticing more and more improvement. I am able to say "I would not have been able to do this exercise this time last year but LOOK AT ME NOW!" alongside "oh my GOD this is a lot of weight who do you think I am?!"---but I can lift a weight, right? Not a big accomplishment for you, maybe...but for me? Well, I couldn't life a weight this time last year! So, look at me now. 

Getting better means less doctors' appointments, but still going to doctors' appointments. But there are less of them and they are mostly just checkups and scans and you telling them that "well yeah, my back hurts a little but it's NOT from the chemotherapy or the cancer I actually just strained it working out" and "well yeah, I have a cold but I don't think it's my immune system being THAT shitty...I think it's because my friend's boyfriend literally sneezed at me the other day and now I'm sick. College! Ha." And getting better means less medication. You have no idea how much I missed the days where I didn't have to take a single thing to function normally. For a while there I was taking anti-nauseas once a day and anti-anxiety and anti-nausea pills just to sleep soundly.  So I'm takin' less and I'm feelin' good for the most part. 

Getting better means less people realizing that you even ever had a disease to deal with in the first place. This is where things get weird sometimes. 
Some people have watched you through your entire journey with the disease. They are proud of you and say from time to time "you've gone through so much" and "you're looking so good" and "your hair is getting so long!" 
And then there are new people you meet that have no idea what you've gone through and sometimes you almost feel like it's necessary that they know----after all, it has been a huge part of your life that has changed you indefinitely. But is it important that they know that you've struggled to become who you are now? That sometimes you do not take everything seriously because you taught yourself not to? That you do not take every little problem they take as seriously because you indeed, as said before in other blog posts, have gone through worse?
And when you do tell them will it totally put a damper on the conversation even though they did just ask why you have a scar or your neck? Most times, yes. Other times, the have stories to tell you about struggles of their own and funny (to me, at least) relatable stories that we can share in. Or they ask questions and you can inform them on something that you actually have something to say about. 

But most importantly, and with the most amount of cheese,
Getting better means getting better and THAT is something to be proud of.

How does that make YOU feel?

A lot of the time while I was sick I was concerned about other peoples' feelings. I remember when I was first diagnosed there were a lot of tears---just not on my end. My mom was crying, my friends were crying, and I was the one telling them it was going to be okay.

                              

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to complain. It was easier for me to be focused on trying to make everyone else feel better than it was trying to figure out how bad I was actually feeling about the whole ordeal. Sometimes getting your mind off of it all is just a better coping mechanism. Sometimes it made me feel better hearing myself say "I'm going to be okay." Maybe I was starting to convince myself or do my best to cover up the fact that I was actually terrified that everything might go downhill. For now, "I'll be okay." Repeat that and it might just work. Fingers crossed?

                              

This all being said, when I was asked about how I was really feeling I had a hard time putting into words that people who weren't going through this could understand. I was tired but I couldn't explain to my friends without feeling embarrassed that sitting up in bed for ten minutes was more than I could handle and that I would love to see them for longer but I could not physically do it. I could not find the words to correctly express to another friend that going to a concert with her was nearly impossible for me---and that no, being in a wheelchair at it would not make the experience easier on me. I could not easily tell the person I loved most at the time that I "just needed them there with me" at treatments because they were the only person I would let see me like that. So I was better off just saying something along the lines of, "It's fine! I'm alive, aren't I? Don't cry!" or "Hey, I have treatment on this day... do you maybe want to come with me if you have the time? If not it's totally fine and I get it. I love you no matter what." or just not responding at all.

When the going gets tough.....sometimes you don't care about how other people feel. You spend your time wondering why other people are feeling so sad when YOU are the one dealing with the disease and going through all the treatments and experiencing all the side-effects. There are times where I was disgusted by things people would say to make my situation seem less shitty that were equivalent to that of an "it could be worse" sort of speech. And then there were times where I was too busy feeling sorry for myself that I had no sympathy for people going through what I deemed a smaller problem. Of course, whenever anyone says "I shouldn't be complaining about my problem when you've gone through so much worse" I am torn between feeling badly because I know how it feels to be caught up in something that feels bad and problematic to you and feeling like...well..yeah...your boy toy not responding to you in not even in the same realm as me feeling gross post-chemo. But I too have been wallowing in my sad love life and know that it is still bad and still sad. Our problems and bad situations are all very different, but they are still problems and bad situations.

Friday, February 26, 2016

Get Me Off Of This Ride

Cancer is an emotional roller coaster.
There are days where it's not so hard. You're feeling a little better than usual and you have a little more energy to get up and see your friends or just watch some TV and not feel really sick while doing it.
Then there are bad days where everything hurts and you don't know how to describe what you're feeling but you just don't feel good and you're angry and a little sad and you feel like everything is going to be terrible forever.
I remember one day when I thought I was getting the last of my chemotherapy treatments. It felt like a good day--like I was finally going to be done with all of it. Then everything changed in just a moment and my doctor told me there would be more and that I needed to start considering getting radiation as well.
I thought I was done. I thought I was almost done, at least. And doctors always have that "why do you look so upset at this news" face on like you should have known that it wasn't over yet. You should have known that you couldn't possibly deserve to be done.
I will never be able to fully explain what it feels like to have to drag your easily-car-sick-self to a hospital that's twenty minutes away to force yourself to sit in a chair for seven hours on end with a needle in your am that's pumping chemicals into you that make you feel like absolute shit. But when you're sitting there thinking that that is going to be the end of it and you get the bad news it's like your world is ending all over again. I would say it's like taking candy from a baby-- easy to do for the doctor and mean to the baby but it felt like I was a baby who had just had everything it ever liked taken away from it---and it seemed pretty easy for the doctor to do.
And chemotherapy isn't just like a class you can skip because you have three unexcused absence days. You don't really get to say "I don't feel good enough to go" or "I just don't feel like it today." I don't get to be scared about just a bad grade. I have to be scared about the size of the mass above my heart and how sick I will feel and how much longer I won't have any hair and what I'll have to worry about with radiation and what cancers I could get from that and school coming up and how many more treatments there are left and OH GOD that means I have to see that social worker more.
The last day of my treatment was on Halloween of 2014. I don't remember being very happy about it...I remember just wanting it to be over with and by the end of it I left feeling pretty indifferent about it. In fact, I think I may have snapped at my dad about something because I was in a pretty bad place feeling like it wasn't even over yet. Like I knew it would never feel over.
When radiation treatments are finally over the assistants expect you to ring a bell they have in the hallway as a celebration. Freedom, celebration, it's over! --- or something like that. Except just like with the end of chemo I didn't feel great about it. I grabbed the rope and hit it against the side once and it was lame. I can't think of a better word. It was lame and thinking about it now I kind of regret not just going ham on it. I just sort of rang it once and walked out and didn't look back.
Cancer is an emotional roller coaster that sometimes stops in the middle because of technical difficulties.
You get to sit there without an explanation as to why it's not on its way up anymore.
Just like Disneyland...or I guess LizzyLand or whatever (see this didn't have to be all that dark that's funny haaaa)...but there aren't any employees to tell you anyways so you're sort of just hoping that it'll start back up again sometime soon.
And then sometimes there is no roller coaster at all because you just remember it like a bad dream now that you didn't get to wake up from until recently.
You tell yourself that nightmares are silly and that they aren't real...
And maybe, if you try and go back to sleep, you'll have a better dream this time.

Saturday, February 20, 2016

But wait! There's more! (There's more?!)

  No one talks about what happens during chemotherapy aside from the hair loss and nausea. Maybe the weakness--just not in depth.
  I pushed away a lot of people who cared about me because I was either too weak to deal with anyone being around and/or because I had fallen so deep into a dark place that I didn't have enough of me left to care about what was happening around me. I wish I had learned earlier that I would lose many people I now wish I hadn't. I was selfish and sick and still believe there's no excuse for it. I didn't surround myself with all the right people. If you're reading this, I'm sure you know who you are, I'm so, so sorry from the very bottom of my heart. I will always love and appreciate you more than you know.
  Now of course, along with all the emotional turmoil came the physical limitations, set backs, and side effects.
  No one told me that I would be so weak that I couldn't stand up for ten minutes at a time or hold a notebook that weighs less than a pound without shaking and feeling faint. I still have trouble standing up for long periods of time and I do still get worn out pretty easily.
  No one told me that I would lose the ability to taste my food making eating just another thing I had to do to get through the day. Do you know how utterly frustrating it is to bite into a grilled cheese sandwich and have it NOT taste like the cheesy goodness you know all too well?
  No one told me that eventually I would get so sick that doctors would be afraid to let me eat anything that came from the ground for fear of me getting e.coli or something worse. Salads, fruits, vegetables--all of these were out of the question. I never thought I'd say I missed eating salad. I had to get neupogen shots (they would help my body make white blood cells / prevent infection) and they hurt so much that I would sit there literally saying OUCH WOW THAT HURTS WOW out loud until the nurse was done. I was a 20 year old baby and no one likes shots but I'm not exaggerating when I say that a neupogen shot hurts like absolute hell.
  No one told me I would start to lose the feeling in my fingers then my hands and slowly my feet because of the chemicals from the chemotherapy. Nobody told me that was really bad either so I let it go on until I almost lost the feeling in my hands forever. They told me "the feeling might come back in a few months if it does at all." My handwriting looked like absolute shit for a while because I couldn't even get a good enough grip on a pencil to write the way I wanted to. I was supposed to return to school in the fall with seven year old handwriting. Fuck.
  There were times where my friends would visit me but after sitting up IN BED for fifteen minutes (Yes, you read that correctly. A whopping 15 minutes) I would be so worn out that I had to ask them to leave. Can you imagine having to do that?
  Lastly, nobody told me that there would be a pain so indescribable that I would feel completely helpless. MY BONES HURT. Everything just hurt. Massages barely helped but I sat through a few of them even for a moment of relief. I was desperate to find something to make me feel like I didn't just want to give up and die so it would all go away and I knew that there were so many people going through so much worse than I was.
  I sit here thinking that if my cancer comes back or if I have to deal with another one because of the radiation treatment I got (there are risks now for me such as thyroid cancer, lung cancer, breast cancer...) or just because breathing air, living your life, or eating McDonald's french fries (I will never stop. Their fries are gold.) gives you cancer that I will not be able to sit through more intensive treatment and that is a scary thought. There were times where I would find myself crying into a friend's shoulder saying "I can't do this anymore!!! I don't want to do this anymore!!!" but knew that there was only so much left to go and at least I wasn't given an amount of days I had left to live.  
 There will be good days, bad days, okay days, terrible days, and days you just want to die. We live for the good days and okay days and days that you get the good news and days like today where all I have to worry about is this stupid cold I have. Today, I have hope, my hair, the feeling back in my fingers, all my tastebuds in tact (and FUCK YEAH did I enjoy the chocolate chip cookie I just stuffed in my face), and the only reason I hurt is because I slept in a weird position and my cat bit my finger, and I can hold my entire backpack without shaking, and I am STABLE.
I am slowly but surely getting up.

Friday, February 12, 2016

Attitude is Everything or Whatever

   I thought having to sit for seven hours on end with chemicals pumping through me was torture enough until I was introduced to the social worker that would be coming to each of my treatment sessions. She wasn't 100% terrible and actually ended up doing some really cool things for me like getting me a gallery space in the Jennifer Diamond Library in my cancer hospital for the "Survivor Art Series" but I still wasn't ever fond of her visits mid treatment.
   Don't get me wrong. Social work is very close to my heart as my mother is a social worker and I have always wanted to get involved in that field...but being on the patient/client side of it all when I didn't ask to be? That was asking too much of someone that already felt like they had no control over what was happening.
   I was sent this peppy, pretty blonde that bounced around the hospital as if she wasn't surrounded by death and disease. Bright and cheery and here to tell you that "Things get better!" and that you just have to take things "one step at a time!" which I'm sure is very helpful for a lot of other people...I just don't personally like going to people for help when it comes to coping with what's happening to me. Again, I didn't ask for her...so it sort of felt forced upon me.
   She would make whoever was with me leave the room (which was generally just my dad) and ask me a series of personal questions all revolving around how I was feeling. For the most part I was rude and stand offish and gave her short, unhelpful answers.
"I'm no better than last time"
"Okay"
"I just hate it here"
"I just don't want to be here"
"I don't know"
All of which warranted responses like "Why do you think that is?" or her trying to figure out how she could help me even though I figured I had made it very obvious that her presence was only a bother (and the "Bite Me Cancer" merchandise that she gave me wasn't a big help either).
   I refused to go to AYA groups or anything that involved being in a supportive place surrounded by people I didn't know.
(She asked me if I wanted to go to some makeover day too to "feel prettier" and I think that also made matters worse)
All I'm sure she got out of me was that I hated being there, I hated that I was losing my hair, and I hated how sick I felt. I wasn't ready to divulge the rest of my feelings with anyone and I wasn't about to start with her. It must be sort of hard to understand when you aren't the one being thrown into the middle of a terrible situation. Right? But I guess they're trained or whatever. I guess I wish I had the option to tell her I didn't want to see her but maybe in the long run it was helpful to have someone outside of the entire situation that tried to care. Maybe. I'm still on the fence about it.
    It wasn't until after the entire treatment process that I was able to try and appreciate her incessant tries and also figure out how I felt about the situation more.
   In the hospital I was indifferent and cold and closed off.
   Behind closed doors, distanced from all the loud beeps and nurses and medicine I tried so hard and was eventually able to word how I thought a little like this:
--
Your bones scream for mercy from this sterilized sickness and the chemicals
You are dying from the inside out and you're going numb
You can't feel your fingertips anymore but what would you want to touch anyways?
There is a sword hanging above you held by a breaking thread and there's already a sharp needle in your arm
Your coughs taste like saline and as you brush your hair behind your ear you lose some in your fingers
And you are breaking and nothing feels right
You are asked if you have a will
You refuse to listen to these words
You don't listen to most of what's coming out of anyone's mouth because all you're hearing is how much pain you're in and how you'd rate it on a scale from 1 to 10
You are helpless in a body you thought you'd have a little more control over by age 20
And you are at a 10 and dead inside
--
Things were up and down always. But this quote stayed with me for the most part:
"Cancer may have started the fight, but I will finish it"

So yeah. Bite me, cancer! You fucking suck(ed)!...but you showed me a support system I didn't know I had and for that, I suppose I'm grateful.