Ok, It's Been A Long Time

I know it's been a long time since I posted. Have you ever fallen behind on something? Meant to watch those episodes of that TV show that are building up on your DVR, but just never really got around to it? Were really into the flowers you planted in April, but by August you never water them anymore? Haven't gone to the gym in two months, and the thought of going back again seems difficult... so you just keep not going? Yea, that's what happened.

Things have been good actually. We finally found a mix of drugs for pre-medicating that makes the treatments bearable. I haven't vomited, or run a fever, or shook uncontrollably for either of the May treatments... which is a great improvement. But oddly, with the treatments now easier, it feels like something is missing. That's probably because all the medications together cause me to black out for large periods of the treatments weekends... so hence, parts of my memory are actually missing. It's a great thing to not suffer, or to not remember it if you are suffering... but it still leaves an odd void. I think it's why so many people with bipolar disorder choose not to take their meds... there's something about swinging high and low that's preferable and makes you feel more alive than just flat-lining in a sedated haze... as difficult as those swings can be to handle. I never really understood that decision before now. Similarly, some women in labor choose not to take the epidural. Why would you choose to feel the pain when you could be numb and get to the same end?

Don't worry... I'm not going to stop taking the medications anytime soon. I know it's ridiculous to go back to rocking in bed with extreme nausea trying not to vomit... and remembering all the excruciating hours of it.

But just because the treatments have gotten easier doesn't mean the journey has gotten easier. I've become much weaker physically, mentally, and emotionally with each treatment... and that continues. This blog began light hearted and humorous, and I now realize that was my way of coping at that time (Not that there's anything wrong with that!) But I don't really have the energy or the mental state anymore to continue it. I'm in a different place. Not that I've lost my sense of humor/attitude at all... anyone who has hung out with me in the past month knows it's all still there, and that May has been a drastic improvement over April. But I just don't have the original desire to share as much... to dress things up humorously and entertain those who care about and support me... to help them see I'm doing ok during a difficult time. That takes an energy and an outlook I somehow lost along the way.

I only have 2 treatments left... which is awesome and exciting! Time really has flown by! Yet, something weird has happened now that I'm approaching the end. When I was a kid, I would play video games for months and months until I got to the last level/boss/challenge... and then I would stop. My brother always made fun of me for never completing what I'd spent so much time working on. When I wrote papers in college/grad school, I always wrote 90% of them, and then stopped. Once I felt the argument (the meat and potatoes) of it was done, I lost interest. Obviously I needed to turn in a full paper and wanted an A, so I forced myself to finish them completely... but the key there is, I forced myself to do it. The same thing is happening now. I should be thrilled to be so close to the end. Yet, I realized that I've gotten comfortable with the routine of cancer treatments... with the schedule of bouncing back each time... with how people treat me... with my identity as someone on this journey. Believe it or not, it's scary to actually have it end and enter a new unknown... even though that unknown is a healthier, happier lifestyle and exactly what I've been working toward for months. But I know I have to force myself to face the next challenge: the 4 weeks "break" that I get before radiation. No routine... no weakening... but yet still not 100% better or "old Ryan." I don't know who I'll be or what my days will be like. But I know that just like the challenge of the past 5 months, I have to face this one with the same courage and determination. It's odd to call a period of relief after a lot of suffering a "challenge", but it is.

So that's where I am right now... finishing up a phase, but not really good at finishing things... most likely because I'm always scared of the new unknown that comes after. I really don't think I saw this phase of the treatment process coming... ever. Then again, I never really saw cancer coming... so life is just full of surprises, no matter how much your try to enforce a routine or plan upon it. But I'm still going... and I'm happy (though this post may be more somber and serious than usual). And I'm almost done... which I know is a good thing, even if it's also, in some crazy unforeseen way, a scary thing.

New Month, New Attitude, New Man

So May came around... and something about the change of month (and a lot of thinking I've been doing) has really changed my attitude for the better, and I've been loving life a lot more!

On Saturday, despite AWFUL stomach cramps, I had brunch with my friend Josh, his mom (who was visiting from Ohio), and some of our friends. She was full of interesting stories from her colorful (read: extremely liberal) life.

After that I joined my friend Mike in Central Park with his boyfriend Anthony and some of his friends. It was a gorgeous day and felt so good to be outside doing something I always do in the spring and summer. It put me in a great mood, and I didn't let the stomach cramps or anything related to cancer ruin my day!

On Sunday, I decided that I needed a makeover, and it was time to go clothes shopping for the first time in 4 months! This time, it wouldn't be to buy the "chemo sheik" items, but rather to rediscover myself and my attitude. I decided that I needed to stop looking in the mirror and seeing myself as "cancer patient" and start seeing myself as "Ryan" again. I needed to rediscover who "Ryan" is. So I embarked on a spree throughout Soho, picking out pieces that reminded me of who I am and who I will be when this is all over. (Ok, so I splurged on some... it's therapy!)

After my day shopping, I met up with my best friends Mike and Matthew (and their respective significant others) for a great dinner at Agua Dulce, a Brazilian/South Beachy restaurant in Hells Kitchen that I'd never been to before. Again, a dinner like this is an activity I would normally do, and helped me feel "normal" and not "cancer patient"-ish. The restaurant was great, we had a blast, and it really left me on a high.

I felt physically great on Monday and Tuesday at work and managed to achieve some goals that left me feeling accomplished (always a good emotion).

And tonight, I had one of the most AMAZING nights I've had in a long long time! A client of mine, the Director of Sales at the Carlyle Hotel, invited me to be her date for the opening night of Judy Collins' new cabaret show at the hotel. For the first time in months, I got dressed up in suit and went to work (and it felt GREAT!) My "date" wasn't feeling so well this morning when I called her. She told me to find a friend to bring in her place so that I could still attend and enjoy the evening. My friend Natalie came, and we had a blast! Judy Collins has a voice that's effortless, expressive, and haunting. She really told some beautiful stories with her songs! It was an intimate cabaret show (maybe 80 people in the restaurant), and we were surrounded by celebrities like Al Pacino, Candace Bergan, and Betty Buckley (who was super nice and chatty with us). And the food was fantastic (I had the lamb chops, which melted in my mouth). The whole night came off magical (and free!) I walked home from the subway feeling like a million bucks, which is the first time I've felt that way in a long, long time.

I know I have a chemo treatment coming on Friday, and 3 more after that... and I know I'll face more tough days ahead. But with a new attitude and a reconnection to who I am (ok, and some new clothes and a free celebrity filled event), I'm much more confident facing those challenges. It's not just seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, it's seeing me there too. It's rebuilding my life (maybe a little early) and celebrating it. It's being grateful that after months of bad days, I'm finally having some good ones again!

A Brief Trip to Euphoria

When I was at NYU, I took a class in Destination Marketing. Part of the course work was a class wide project in which we developed a full marketing plan for a fictitious destination named "Euphoria". The project proved to be an absolute nightmare, and is notorious amongst my NYU classmates.

For my most recent treatment, my oncologist gave me a heavy dose of a new steroid in an effort to cut the awful post treatment side effects I've been struggling with. Before he gave me the steroid, I asked if there were any side effects. He said "Only one... and it's not so bad... it's euphoria." I thought "that's not so bad... I think I'll like this!"

Five minutes later when I was vomiting all over myself and the exam room, I wondered if the cause was A) Pavlovian/mental response to getting the chemo injection; B) a physical reaction to the chemo drugs themselves; OR C) the horror of "Euphoria" settling back into my life.

After that little spat (which I do believe was the result of cause "A" above), I did indeed travel to a mental land of Euphoria much better than the vacation destination that we created for class. I came home, sat on the couch, and watched TV for 2 hours. I even ate something! Then I passed out for 2.5 hours (my mother did as well... we both woke up when her cell phone rang). When I realized that it was 5:30, and my "horror response period" usually ends by 6... I started to think that maybe I'd averted misery this time around. Sure enough "Euphoria" lasted about 48 hours.

Then it was back to normal... and just as a reminder... normal is NOT that great. It's fatigue and nausea... and I'm discovering that I just get weaker and weaker with each treatment. My body takes one more beating, and so does my mind.

I'm noticing this more and more with work. For the first few months, I kept up with a lot of the normal types of projects that I would do at work. Then, a few weeks ago when things started slipping for my region, my boss told me that he expected me to work my hardest and do everything when I came in the door... and unless I notified him I couldn't physically/mentally/emotionally handle something, he expected it done. It was a big step for me, but an honest admittance when I started to realize there were things I just couldn't handle. And so, I began letting him know when I reached those limitation... tasks which I just didn't feel physically or mentally strong enough to tackle. This week, I told him I'm starting to feel like the 83 year old secretary who still works for the company, even though she can't use a computer and doesn't really contribute all that much. Nevertheless, she comes in to try to be helpful so that she still feels like she's doing something. That's exactly who I've become and what work now means to me. I woke up this morning with a "I can't" attitude about lots of things... but I forced myself to go to work, because something about it proves the "I can". I may not have accomplished a ton today, but what I did achieve proves that "I can" do at least something... certainly more than I thought I could.

I'm also going to start speaking with a therapist, since this work stuff ties into a lot of other issues that have been coming up as I get weaker and weaker. Everything from body image, to not reaching my potential, to feeling helpless as life goes by, to just being tired of feeling crappy all the time. I got a lot of stuff to work through, and so I'm going to start finding the professional help I need. Then we'll see what changes I make to help me get through the next few months.

On a lighter, happier note... I went to the ER last Thursday for a suspected blood clot in my left calf. They didn't find one... just muscle pain. But that's not really the lighter, happier note, or why this has become a favorite story of many of my friends. It more has to do with "Ryan Got His Groove Back". I met a hot, gay, ER nurse named Tim who flirted with me (heavily!) pretty much the whole time I was there. He told me I was "adorable", thought my scars were sexy, and made several inappropriate remarks about getting me naked. This is the most fun I've ever had in a hospital! He told me he was only covering my section while my nurse was out on lunch, and when I frowned, he offered to be my "private nurse" (there was definitely a wink associated with that). Even after the other nurse came back, he "kept me" and continued to come over from his section to check on me. The orderlies were even asking why he was out of his section. Tragically (and I mean that as dramatically as possible), I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him when they discharged me. He was in his section, with his back to me, talking to a doctor. No chance to thank him... or to exchange numbers! I even tried a craiglist missed connections post... but still haven't heard from him. We may never meet again... but that was TOTALLY the highlight of my April!

Guess I technically went to Euphoria a day earlier than my treatment! ::snap!::

How Am I Doing?

"How are you doing?" is probably the most complicated and difficult question for me to answer right now... and yet, also probably the most popular one asked by people when they see me.

There is no simple or easy answer... and honestly saying "good" as we all seemed trained to say in response to that question isn't quite true/fair for me.

The complexity of the answer lies in that i'm a hodgepodge of physical/emotional statuses that don't always fall into "Good" or "bad".

For example, physically... My last treatment was the worst one yet. I had a fever of 103, was shaking uncontrollably, and once again vomited for about 5 hours. This left me dehydrated, gave me a terrible "burning" during urination (isn't that the best!), and did some major mental damage (more on that later). I've also been nauseous ALL week... and to a level like never before. All different times of day, SURPRISE, room spinning stomach clenching nausea. This is new, unexpected, and extremely annoying.

But physically... I also seem to be doing good. The symptoms of the cancer itself have disappeared and my doctor and I are both optimistic that my PET scan in 2 weeks will come back clear. So cancer's getting better... and chemo and my body are getting worse. Starting to see the complexity?

Mentally/Emotionally... yea, all over the place again. The intense physical toll of my last treatment left me scraping for happy thoughts, distractions, and inspirations to keep me "hanging on". And I had my first moment on this journey were I doubted if I could hang on... both for that day, and for 5 more treatments. I suddenly faced the "what if I don't make it?" question which I had never previously allowed myself to entertain. I'd constantly answered "I'm doing well, staying positive" when people had asked how I was doing... and for a while there, I really believe I was. Those answers were part of my game... the "things are as normal as possible, i'm fine, this is a speed bump in life" game. While that was a great strategy for the beginning, the game began to wear thin with the most recent, more difficult, treatments.

And so, while some cancer patients did the mental prep work upon diagnosis to face their own mortality and figure out what to do when physical/mental strength runs out, I suddenly found myself in the middle of a battle with no boot camp training. Because of the extremely high cure rate and my initial positive physical reactions to the chemo treatments, I was never going to have to think about those things that all other cancer patients process! HA! Fortunately I know that I may have lost the battle during that one moment, but that I have not lost the war. And that I have 2 weeks to prep myself and do all the "mental homework" until I face the next battle. I also invested in some new weaponry (a prescription for Ativan to fight the nausea and steroids to help with treatment day woes). I've got some great "war advisors" helping me refocus, rationalize, and dig out new sources of inspiration. I'm ready to say bring it on, but I'm hardly confident yet in the battle's outcome! Nevertheless, I know I just can't "give up"... but boy am I getting tired.

So how else am I doing? Well I went to a beautiful wedding of two great friends on Saturday night and had a wonderful time catching up with old co-workers I hadn't seen in years. I really enjoyed myself, and lived it up (though passing on those gin lemon fiz drinks during cocktail hour was SO difficult!). I was so happy to be there on such a special day for both of them. I guess I'm just happy to be... and to be healthy enough to enjoy being. I also enjoyed a free massage at the Carlyle Hotel today, which was very relaxing (after a rough week, friends with connections are priceless). I got slightly emotional at the very beginning of the massage when I realized that this was the first positive thing that I was doing for my body in a really long time. Every 2 weeks I poison my body and try to recover. This time I was honoring my body and "treating" it in ways that are completely opposite my "chemo treatments." The whole massage experience did prove to be very relaxing, even if I was nauseous again 30 minutes later!

So don't stop asking the "how are you doing?" question... I like the attention/support/concern. But just don't expect an answer. The days of "great, staying strong" are probably over. I had used the movie Life Is Beautiful as a source of inspiration through this journey. I liked how the protagonist took an awful situation (a child in a WW II concentration camp) and turned it into a make believe game so that the situation no longer seems as scary. Well, that may have worked in that movie or for that situation, but I think it's use in my journey is starting to fade. Reality is setting in... physically, emotionally, and mentally. And I'm better off dealing with it all head on than pretending that Life Is STILL Beautiful at this stage of the journey.

Liquid and Distractions

So it's been a bit of time since I posted. I've been either a) tired or b) traveling (which makes me more... tired). Honestly, the fatigue is slowly getting worse and worse, yet at the same time I feel almost normal at other moments. Higher highs, lower lows.

I was able to get home to Massachusetts for Easter to see my family (distraction #1 of this post's theme). However, the flooding in Rhode Island (liquid #1 of this post's theme) overtook the Amtrak train tracks and forced the cancellation of service. This left me all packed with no way to get there! Fortunately, my father re-booked me on a train to New Haven, and then drove 2 hours from Mansfield to pick me up there. We were sure that by Sunday evening, service would be restored. OF COURSE NOT! So we made the same 2 hour car ride back to New Haven so that I could catch the train home. I'm so incredibly grateful to my parents for all their support... not just for driving me long distances, but traveling those same distances themselves every two weeks to take care of me after each treatment. I honestly don't know what I'd do without them, or how I can ever repay them!

Their care for me after each treatment brings me to liquid #2 of this post... Oh, there was vomiting... AGAIN. I took the benadryl and the usual nausea medicine, which the doctor assured me would stop the shaking and vomiting that I had with treatment #5. The shaking didn't happen... and I was certainly very sleepy. But, oh, the vomiting! Every 30 minutes from 130PM to 600PM. As the afternoon went on, I did stretch it to every 45 minutes or so. After a while, I just gave up on counting the number of times. Fortunately, I was so sleepy from the benadryl, that after each session, I'd clean up, and immediately lay back down and fall asleep (distraction #2, albeit medically induced). I'd awake 30-45 minutes later with about 5 seconds to realize "oh, here we go again!". I would yell out "help" and my parents would come running in to hold the trash can, rub my back, hand me tissues, and replace the plastic bag lining when I was finished. I just gave into it this time, and didn't worry that it was happening. I got through each "attack" soon enough, and was back sleeping again. And eventually it all stopped. I kind of feel that somehow that's what this whole cancer process is like. Rough patches, sleeping in between, and eventually it'll be over.

And so, all this left me dehydrated and undernourished again. Unlike last time where this caused me to panic, I simply committed myself to drinking and eating at a steady pace, as much as I could handle without getting sick again. The line was drawn at scrambled eggs... but I managed to get down some toast and crackers before then. In order to properly rehydrate, I set my alarm for every two hours (12am, 2am, 4am, 6am, and 8am) and got up to drink something (liquid #3 of this post). By the time Saturday morning came, I was significantly more hydrated and energized than last time.

I also discovered that distractions can REALLY boost my energy. Heather, my best friend from Fairfield, and her fiancee Darrell, stopped by on Saturday evening en route from their home in DC to CT (clearly, distraction #3). I paced my naps so that I would be energized for 330, the time she was set to arrive. Of course, she didn't get here until 530. By then, I was REALLY fading. However, something about seeing her suddenly gave me a new boost of spirit. My parents commented that they'd never seen me so energized after a treatment! They stayed for about 3 hours, and I was like a different person the entire time! Of course, about an hour after they left, I came crashing back down. But they certainly helped to boost my spirits and made the weekend much more enjoyable!

To curb the vomiting for treatment #7, my doctor has advised me to take the same anti nausea medicine an hour before the treatment (even though for earlier treatments I took it at the time of injection and had no problem with vomiting). I'll ask for the benadryl again, so that even if I do vomit, I'll be out of it enough to just get it over with and pass out again! I also didn't have shakes this time, so maybe the benadryl did really help! But no matter what, I've proven to myself that I can endure harsh reactions to the treatments, and that each symptom will eventually pass. I need to continue to mediate on that, keep my eyes on the prize, and just keep going.

In his memoir about his own battle with non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, comedian Robert Schimmel shares a story about his father marching as a Jewish prisoner of the Nazi's during the Holocaust. He says that the prisoner marching in front of his father fell down and refused to keep going. The Nazi soldiers shot him and then told the rest of the group "If you want to live, keep moving". I've been thinking a lot about that lately.

Adapting

A lot of the past week and a half for me has been adapting. On the one hand, I'm trying to adapt my expectations of symptoms after the treatment so that if something goes different again, I won't freak out/breakdown. On the opposite end, I've been trying to adapt my mind away from seeing myself as "Ryan The Cancer Patient" and finding more function as a normal individual within society.

I've been working pretty hard on the "it's not a failure if you vomit" mentality, and think I've made some really good progress. I'm just a stubborn person... and if I don't want to vomit, I don't want to vomit. But I won't lie... I'm a bit jittery about this next treatment. I haven't really planned out a lot of the things I normally would (foods, etc.) or done some of the mental prep work (ie. setting expectations and looking ahead). The lack of effort kind of freaks me out. I think I need to find the line between prepared and structured.

My doctor seems to think I had an allergic reaction caused by a protein build up from one of the chemo drugs... which caused the uncontrollable shaking and vomiting last time. So I'm getting some benadryl before the next treatment. He warned it would make me drowsy... and I'm REALLY looking forward to that!!!

On the adapting to life as a person moving past the cancer, I'm stepping out of my comfort zone a little bit in different places. I got my head shaved on Saturday, and the thinning is really noticeable (see first time I shaved left, versus now on right... there's much less shadow and hair density)

My hair looked really thin and splotchy before I shaved my head (my boss called it baby duck hair). But the bald look evens things out. All my life I've wished for thinner hair... and now with my head shaved, I actually look like a person with a normal density of hair who shaved their head! And I kind of like it! So I didn't even put the bandanna back on after the shave. Add a pair of glasses, and I've invented the new Ryan look... I call it "The Stanley Tucci". I haven't worn a hat or bandanna since Saturday. It's really empowering!!! (Though my head does get cold when I walk to the subway!)

The confidence is also extending into social situations. I was at my boss' baby shower on Saturday, and I felt/looked amazing. Though I could have dropped the cancer into any of the conversations I was having, I chose not to. There was something about floating around the room and socializing with everyone as a normal person that felt... well... different, but in a good way. Though the socializing may not have been the wisest decision from a germ point of view... it felt good from a mental point of view. And after the mental breakdown of last week, don't I deserve that boost! I'm even going to my first meeting with a hotel tomorrow since I got sick. When my boss asked me if I was sure I wanted to go, I said "I feel good. I look good. I like the people we're meeting with. Why not!?"

Yes, I know that Friday will come and knock me off my high horse and I'll be miserable again. But I think as long as I keep climbing higher on these "good days", it reminds me of what I'm holding on for. Then again, I hope it's not just a case of higher highs and lower lows. I guess we'll see!

Meltdown (# 1 of ???)

So it happened... I hit the wall. I thought I had this whole cancer treatment thing "figured out". I knew what to expect to feel each day, what foods to eat at which stage of recovery, etc. I had an "itinerary" of how to get through not only each treatment, but the entire experience as a whole. I could do this. I knew exactly how to get to the light at the end of the tunnel.

And then all it took was one treatment that wasn't like the rest of them.

Unfortunately, my anti-nausea medicine didn't work this time (or, something else went wrong... but that'll take further investigations with my doctor). I'm used to nausea, but have managed to not vomit. This is a good thing, as I'm supposed to stay very well hydrated, and vomiting obviously dehydrates you. But, just like on Seinfeld, no matter how hard one tries to hold back, sometimes the streak just has to end.

About 3 hours after my treatment, my body was shaking uncontrollably. I had a chill that I just couldn't escape. I was wearing multiple layers, covered by numerous blankets, and had the heat on in my bedroom... and still I was freezing. After about an hour, the vomiting began... and continued, several more times. Finally after about 2 hours total, the shaking passed, and I managed to keep down some ginger ale shortly thereafter. I attempted to rehydrate, but obviously was still queasy and slow to recovery. I couldn't eat the foods I normally would, nor as much as I normally would. And thus, my whole recovery plan was thrown out the window.

I think in addition to having my "plan" fail (which always frustrates me in any situation), I have a shame/mental block about vomiting. Mostly anyone who knew me as a child remembers I had tremendous anxiety, which almost always led to puking at life's big (and thus, inopportune) moments. The old plastic coin bucket from Atlantic City that was under the car seat... yea, that was my bucket. But somehow, magically, around age 10 or 11, it all stopped. Since then, I VERY VERY rarely vomit. It's almost become a matter of pride. A "see how far I've come" award that I can display to others, and that reminds me of how much I've grown. Even with all the drinking I've been known to do, it's still extremely rare that I puke. I may be nausea like crazy, but I don't let myself puke... and it passes.

And so, this treatment (which I thus mentally categorized as a failure) threw me. Though it was a weaker/slower physical recovery, I did eventually get my strength back and by Monday was feeling pretty much on pace. But I was still emotionally messed up... and all it took was a commercial for the Cancer Treatment Centers of America that was on during The View for me to lose it completely. While Whoopi and Barbara continued to talk about "Hot Topics", I became a hot mess. I cried from 1130 am to 530 pm... straight! I did take a 1 hour lunch break from crying (during which I also watched an episode of Modern Family). But at 230, I curled up in bed with a book that my Aunt Anne had sent me, and it was back to crying again.

I needed it. (As crazy at that might sound) I needed to just let it all out. I needed to gain a new perspective... to write a new "plan" that was a bit more flexible. I needed to find and list the fears I had and come up with constructive ways to face them... which, in all honesty, is exactly what my Dad used to tell anxious six year old puker Ryan.

I'm a firm believer that sometimes you do need to completely meltdown into a pile of wax in order to sculpt yourself back into what you need to be moving forward.

(As an FYI, I have not cried today... I'm much better, with a new outlook, and once again feel that I know how to get to the finish line of all this)

Another point worth sharing from my meltdown came with clarifying the "Why me" aspect of all this. In his book, Cancer on Five Dollars a Day, comedian Robert Schimmel (who had non-hodgkins lymphoma... but close enough) talks about his realization that cancer is just bad luck... and he's been the fool of bad luck all his life. Yet, he ultimately acknowledges that his life is fantastic despite all that bad luck, and he wants to go on living.

As I reflected on that, I took it a step further. I realized that I can't question "why cancer" or any of the other bad luck that's occurred to me without simultaneously questioning any of the good luck too. To ask "why did I get cancer?", I would also have to ask "why do I have such a loving family?" or "why have I traveled so extensively?" To question or challenge good luck (blessings) in the same way we do bad luck just seems absurd. And so, I'll just have to resign myself to having such a wonderful family, seeing so much of the world, and yes, cancer... which is only for now. It hardly seems like such a tough break in that context.

Extremes

So this most recent round of chemo was marked by extremes. On the one hand, it was the most nauseous I've ever been, a whole new level of fatigue, and seemed to take forever to get over. On the other, once I was feeling better, I felt the best I've been in months. I was able to be more active: seeing plays, meeting friends for dinner, working longer days, and even moving and assembling furniture! If someone told me that I was completely done with cancer, I would believe them.

And then it's time for another treatment... and it's like a slap in the face and my game piece moves back to the start space.

Extremely troubling this past week was also the news that my treatment would last for 6 cycles (12 weeks). Before my staging had been finalized, the doctor mentioned that maybe I'd get away with only 4 cycles, rather than 6. Feeling as well as I have, I asked him at my last blood work appointment what he thought. He said he believed that I'd be on the shorter, rather than longer side, of treatment. I was extremely excited and envisioned being done with all this by the end of May! Unfortunately, he meant the shorter side for my staging: 6 cycles, rather than 8 cycles. Apparently no one with my staging gets less than 6 cycles. So it looks like the chemo finish line is the end of June, set in stone. The good news is that the last treatment is scheduled the weekend before my birthday, so I'll have a whole lot to celebrate! I'm still planning on doing my Elementary School Style Field Day in Central Park the weekend after... and it will be bigger and better than ever!

Of course, I still have 1 month of radiation after that... but I'm told that's a lot easier than the chemo. It's like the last mile of my tour de france style chemo race is all downhill. I hope!

Derek, Beth, and Luke came to visit me this past weekend. It was great to see them and to play with Luke (when he wasn't eating, sleeping, or being cranky in transition to and from those two activities). He wouldn't let me give him a bottle, but he did take a cheerio from me... so we're making progress! I also got to push him in his brand new red stroller as we walked the streets of NYC. Here are some pictures...

Exhausted after being pushed around the city for a bit.

Attempting to eat his stackable cups... a favorite past time.

Notice the Huggies over his shoulder. Perfect baby model... but Beth said no way. :-(

Practicing walking toward Uncle Ryan

So I wanted to take that classic "we're out at a bar, hold the camera at arms length and take a picture of us so we can post it on facebook and remember how awesome we were" photo... I don't think Luke was feeling it as much as I was!

There are more photos of Luke's visit to NYC on his own blog (my biggest competition). I have to admit that being sick and getting pictures and cards from Luke made me question my desire to have kids. My staunch "never" position was softening to "well, maybe". However, after spending the weekend with Luke, I'm firmly back on my "never" post. Not that I didn't have a wonderful time and got lots of cheer from being with him... but aye, so much work... and another person's feelings and needs to take into account. Being in a relationship involves enough "thinking of the other"... I can't imagine being in a relationship AND having to think of what the child needs too for 18+ years. No thanks! I'll keep being fabulous instead.

Tonight, at the advice of my United Healthcare Special Case Worker, I tried doing yoga. Went out and bought a mat, got a DVD, and hit it! What I learned:

1) I wouldn't mind yoga so much if they cut out the "find your light... breathe from your ankles... namaste" crap. It makes me giggle and ruins my deep yoga breathing.

2) My left shoulder is still messed up from when I tore my labrum in Nov 2008. FANTASTIC. My regular strength training at the gym was keeping it strong (after the 4 months of physical therapy it took me to heal it), but it looks like my 3 months absence has lifting has left it pathetic.

3) My yoga mat smells like rubber... even after I febreezed it

4) Though I will keep trying it because it's supposed to help maintain muscle tone during the treatment, this isn't for me.

I have another treatment on Friday (#5), so keep me in your thoughts and prayers over the weekend. Thanks to everyone who has been so supportive: sending me emails, cards, spending time with me, etc. I continue to feel so grateful and blessed to have this much support and know it will help me get through the four months of chemo that I have left!

Oddly enough, I'm really looking forward to being a cancer survivor. :-)

The Update You've All Been Waiting For...

The update you've all been waiting for... no, not that I'm cancer free. I need a little more time on that one (I'm not a miracle worker). I guess I just didn't realize it had been quite so long since I last posted... and many of you have emailed or facebooked me looking for an update. Sorry, I've been a very busy cancer patient! But it's been the good sort of busy... staying active, seeing friends, going to work, etc. Also, my computer monitor IS my TV, so I can't simultaneously watch the Olympics (which I'm obsessed with) and work on the computer... so we clearly know what won out of those two choices.

It's Feb 26th, and I'm exhausted. I mean, just down right tired, but not the type of tired that a nap cures. This is the kind of tired that makes you just want to sit and stare out the window and do nothing and hope the time passes faster. Thus, this blog post is being written in sections over the course of today... as I muster up enough energy to do it.

I've been doing ok health/energy wise. My treatments knock me out for 4-5 days, but then I'm back up and feeling 70%-80%, which is pretty good all things considered! I had a problem with the stitches not dissolving from my two surgeries. One doctor I talked to said he thought there was something about the chemo that made them not dissolve. I had bits of string sticking out of each end of my neck incision, and it kept getting infected. My oncologist tried to pull on it, but it didn't budge. Due to a snow storm the next day, my surgeon wasn't available for more invasive removal, so I saw my primary doctor. He basically cut the bottom end, and pulled the entire string (still in one piece) out of the top. On the chest scar, the string was only showing on one end. So he pulled it as much as he could, cut it, and then let the rest of the string retract back inside of me. They need to reopen that scar to remove my chemo port when this is all over anyway, so they can fish for the left over bit of twine then! I'm just glad that both scars are finally healing correctly!

So my 3rd treatment was Valentines weekend, and was super romantic. Many of you enjoyed my facebook status update in which I declared "My Valentine this year is named Cancer. I got him chemo as a gift, and we've been fighting all weekend. I don't see this relationship lasting much longer." Our fight lasted about 4-5 days. My parents were here for the first 48 hrs and kept me pretty happy and loved. I realized over that treatment that there's a certain comfort that they bring just by being here. At first, in an effort to keep things as "normal" as possible, I had hoped my friends would step in on treatment weekends and take care of me. But now, the routine that I've found with my parents, as well as just the happiness it gives me to have them here, makes me like this new "normal." My parents coming up every other weekend was certainly not something regular for me before this journey, but like the musical, something "Next To Normal" has become really nice.

My Valentines Day gifts from my parents (since Cancer only gave me a headache and nausea) included new frying pans... nothing more romantic than that! This brings me to another point: I'm in a constant stage of home improvement. Every time my parents come, they bring or find something new that I need/should have. I now own an electric griddle (so my mother can make pancakes and french toast in the morning), and 2 new frying pans, and new salt and pepper (since my mother didn't seem to like mine???). And this weekend, we added screens to my windows. On Wednesday afternoon, as I was doing work from home at my kitchen table, I saw something fall in from the open living room window. I thought it was a leaf, but couldn't seem to find it on the floor. About 5 minutes later as I was walking to my bedroom, a flutter of activity occurred, and I realized that a bird had flown in the window. I could hear my mother saying "you should really get screens for that window" in my head as I shoo'd the bird back out. The next morning as I stumbled to the bathroom half awake and turned on the light, my friend the bird was sitting in the sink. Upon hearing the story, you better believe my parents prioritized buying screens this weekend! (NOTE: my brother is coming next weekend and driving me to IKEA to pick up a few furniture items I still need. This place will be immaculate by the time I'm healthy again)

I'm finding that the treatments are not as initially severe, but last longer. It's hard to tell if I only think they last longer because there's less "daily progress" (ie. going from AWFUL to just "bleh"), or if they really are just making me tired longer. I'm also discovering fun new side effects, like stomach cramps and heart burn. This makes me feel even more like a pregnant woman (with my morning sickness and cravings). Then again, I'm the one who insisted on eating chili and buffalo chicken on Super Bowl Sunday, since I wanted it to feel like "every other Super Bowl". I already had heartburn going into it... and boy did that just make it worse!

Speaking of the Super Bowl, my parents got together for the game with some of their friends, and the day included some "craft time". Some of the ladies are making bracelets, pins, bookmarks, and key chains to benefit the Lymphoma and Leukemia Society. If anyone is interested in buying one, let me know. Here are some pictures of them crafting...

I've been watching A LOT of the Olympics (I'm a bit of a junkie... and hey, there's not a whole lot else that I can do!). Of course, the heartwarming back stories and triumphs would normally make me weepy... but with my current messed up hormones, I'm just a mess! My friend Chi is originally from Vancouver and went back home to see the games. She's tracked a lot of it on her blog, which has been great! She even sent me photos from the Latvia vs Slovakia hockey game. She and I visited Slovakia together in June 2008 and had a blast!

In addition to watching the Olympics a lot, I've also been pretty social the past few weeks. (See, I told you I was busy!) I had some friends over for dinner/tv, saw a Broadway show (for free), saw Christine Ebersole's cabaret show at the Carlyle Hotel (also for free, and dinner included for free... see, I can still work it!), had lunch with my old roommate who was in town, and even got to see a bunch of friends get trashed in front of me at a party! I stuck with cherry seltzer, which they warned me to consume with moderation. I'm rocking the skull cap below. My hair has thinned out a lot, but hasn't completely fallen out. I was right... there's no beating the Portuguese genetics!

This week's chemo treatment was a bit shaken up by the big snow storm we got in NYC (20" in Central Park). Seeing that the storm was starting on Thursday and not ending until late on Friday, I knew my regularly scheduled appointment at 1230 on Friday was in jeopardy. So I worked the phone and landed an appointment with my oncologist's parter in the Manhattan office on Thursday afternoon. The snow was already falling pretty heavily, and things were a mess... so I barely squeezed it in. Luckily my white blood cell count was high enough, and they gave me the treatment then. My friend Mike was my hero of the week and left work early to take care of me for the afternoon/evening.

My parents left Providence (where it was raining) at 7:20 PM and headed straight into the snow storm to be with me. Upon exiting Penn Station at 11:00 PM, they realized just quite how hard it was snowing here! They were covered in snow while waiting in the taxi line, and the wind was blowing at 40-50 mph. None of the taxis they could find would go to Queens because the roads were so bad. My mother finally played the "cancer card" (way to go!) and gave a cabbie the sob story of her sick son that she needed to get to in Astoria. Though it was an incredibly rocky and slow cab ride, they eventually made it to my apartment, where they looked much like snow men upon arriving. All that they went through in traveling through the snow storm reminds me of how much they love me and would really do anything for me. I'm continually grateful for how wonderful and supportive my parents have been through this whole ordeal!

That more or less brings us up to date. I have a few cute things to post (pictures of me in hats that people have sent, etc.), but I'll wait and post those this week. Thanks to everyone for the continual prayers, thoughts, and messages. I'm doing well in large part due to the smiles that your support brings to my face. I got quite possibly the BEST care package in the mail from my Aunt Jocelyn, Uncle Richie, and cousins Rebecca and Jessica (with the aid of my grandmother). I'm not going to say what's in it just yet, as I want it to remain a surprise for my brother who is coming to visit next week. Don't worry, there will be photos!

Ryan's Hair... THIS IS YOUR LIFE!

(A special thanks to everyone who submitted photos for this!)

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, since I was in 8th grade, I have always put some sort of time, effort, and product into my hair. In eighth grade, this is the beautiful finished product that I was going for...

No one has yet found a picture of me with shoulder length hair. KEEP LOOKING. Or, perhaps its best that we not re-live that. Anyway, by the middle of high school, I had gotten to a conventional, non-attention grabbing, though heavily gelled and hairsprayed, style.

For the first year and a half of college, the hair was still pretty conventional

With the exception of the blue tinted gel and glitter from Pippin (this is the best photo I could find. I feel super old thinking about how no one had a digital camera in 2002)

Then came the haircut that changed my life (along with the advent of digital photography). The infamous Korean makeover from April 2003!

Try as i might, I never seemed to get it exactly the same again. Instead, over the next year, it just got...

bigger (note: Tanya Chavez is the only person I know who has had more hair colors and styles than me. The extensions she has here are wonderful)

and shapelier (notice how i actually have created a diamond here)

and weirder (not that the brown western influenced leisure suit helps this picture any)

oh wait... and even weirder (GO 1980s FLOCK OF SEAGULLS)

By my senior year, it just got longer in a much more controlled, yet hippie way...

Even after I graduated and got a job, it still stayed long. I think this photo from Winter 2005-2006 was my rock bottom moment. Worst dye job ever, on top of the most razor-hacked, over textured cut ever. Was I trying to match my hair with the pattern on my scarf???

I know I cut my hair by summer 2006 for my brother's wedding. I didn't want to mess up his wedding photos with a crazy hairstyle (ahem... your welcome).

I remember thinking it was ridiculously short, and didn't know how to style it. Somehow, as it grew back in, I fell into the faux-hawk... a hairstyle that I loathed in college. (Then again, did you see my hairstyles in college? Who was I to talk?)

Then there were big bangs cemented up (almost Jersey Shore-ish)

And then I had this weird square topped thing with bangs down

Then I went back to the faux hawk look for a while, before having the brilliant idea that I should combine the bangs down approach with the faux hawk! I think I wanted to be David Cook by this point)

Apparently by May 2009 I thought that if I moved the faux hawk off center, it some how made it acceptable.

By this fall, I'd tamed it down. After all, I was a working professional with a graduate degree.

And then in January, I started a new phase. Many people have complimented it, and I've vowed to keep it this way until at least September, regardless of how long my treatments take me. Who knows, maybe I'll keep it, and this will be the end of my varying crazy hairstyles? Cancer does open your eyes to a lot of new things... maybe even a new image!

This Wasn't The Week I'd Planned

So as luck (or science... or prayer) would have it, my white blood cells came back up and I was able to get my treatment on Monday. I had been rather pessimistic about my white blood cell count, especially since I'd been very sniffly all weekend and felt that all my extra white blood cells must be going to fight that. But it was a nice surprise and I was glad (how ironic) to get the injections.

Oddly enough, the treatment didn't hit me as hard as the last time. My friend from NYU, Jackie, came over to "babysit" me that afternoon. She does a lot of that in general, and said I was better behaved than most of the kids she looks after! As we were talking, I told her that at some point when the drugs really hit me, I would just randomly get up and announce that I needed to sleep. That's how I remember the treatment hitting me last time. But instead, after almost 90 minutes of hanging out, I still felt decent. Not great... but not "I need to sleep NOW" bad. I'm grateful that this round didn't knock me out as much as the previous, but I think it's also made the recovery process less easy to mark. I remember last time being encouraged that the first day was a 2, the second day was a 4, and the third day was a 6. This time, all three days just seemed like a 4-5. It's hard to be encouraged by no marked daily improvement.

Nevertheless, day four started like a 5 and ended like a 7, so that's good! I was nauseous and tired in the morning, and ate very light for lunch. But sitting here, typing on the couch to you, I'm stuffing my face with baked lays and starbursts... so something went right! My friend Jack texted me the previous night to see if I wanted to go see A View From The Bridge with him tonight. Though I wasn't feeling great, I said yes anyway. If I can sit on my couch and watch TV, then I can sit in a theater and watch live people do what people on TV do. Plus, I hadn't seen a show in a really long time, and this one looked really good (Scarlett Johansson and Liev Schrieber in an Arthur Miller classic!? These are the things that get me excited!! I was trying to think of two sports stars in some type of big sporting event that was comparable, but I got bored and decided to move on with writing the blog). ANYWAY, I went, had a great time, and proved to myself that I can still do something that I have always loved doing (even 4 days after a treatment).

I have to say, the other big booster of my spirits this week has been my almost eight month old nephew, Luke. Now, most people know that I have NEVER been a children person. But something about just looking at a picture of him makes me smile. I mean, watch this video of him playing peekaboo in the bathtub and tell me that you're not smiling!!??!! I can't tell you how many times I've watched that in the past few days. I hear he may be coming to visit me soon, and I'm super excited! :-)

This weekend I'll post more pictures of famous Ryan hairstyles that I've received and found in my own archives. I've also received several hats in the mail and will model those in pictures for everyone to see too (trust me, some of them are a hoot!)

Where Did All My White Blood Cells Go???

Friday came, and I was ready for my chemo treatment. My parents were in town, I'd planned my "first meal after chemo" (thanks Matthew!), and was mentally prepped to get it over with and move on. Then the tires on this truck came to a screeching halt.

"You're not getting chemo today"

I can't say it was completely unexpected, but I certainly had a good idea why. My Aunt Anne is currently fighting colon cancer, and after her first chemo treatment, her white blood cells didn't bounce back enough for round two. She took a medicine designed to promote white blood cell activity and actually had fewer white blood cells the next time! A second medicine proved to work, and she's been able to continue on with treatment.

I'm not sure if it's our fantastic Portuguese genetics (I will not hear any comments contrary about the Portuguese genealogy), but I had the exact same problem. I got a shot of medicine, and we're going to try again on Monday.

I have to say, the most annoying part about the delay is how it's messing up my scheduling. I had planned nothing for the weekend, knowing that I was going to be miserable. Now my Mon-Weds is messed up and I have nothing to do this weekend! Plus, it potentially pushes back other treatments, whether by changing the day of the week that I go, or which week is an on week/off week. Guess there's nothing certain with chemotherapy.

Early Hair Photo Entries From Jackie

My family friend Jackie Desjardines submitted these photos from the past few years.

May 2005 - I'd just graduated from college. I swear, long hair was fashionable at the time. I looked at photos of all my roommates when we graduated, and we all had long hair. Maybe we were just lazy?

By Dec 2006, I had adopted the faux-hawk, even though I distinctly remember making fun of it in college.

By this Christmas, I was much more asymmetrical and wispy

It's also good to know that I've successfully worn bandannas before (though this was a pirate party). I'm sure I'll be rocking them a lot in the next few months!

Thanks Jackie!

CONTEST: Favorite Ryan Hairstyle

Those who have known me for many years know that my hairstyles change frequently. I look back and love some of them! And then... well, there are others.

Since there's a 95% chance that I will lose my hair sometime in the next week, I could use a morale boost. That's why I wanted to start a photo contest. So dig out those old photo albums and find your favorite Ryan hairstyle. Send me the picture at RyanFarias@gmail.com so I can post it on the blog here.

This cut (circa 2003) was certainly one of my most memorable, though I have weird bangs going on in the first photo of it. Oh what too much Asian influence can do to a person.

So send in your favorites, and I'll supplement with some of mine that I've found too. Bonus points for those who can dig back to 1997 shoulder length hair phase.

Let's think of this as celebrating a new phase of my hair by conducting a museum worthy retrospect.

Oh, My Family!

My family has been fantastic and supportive, even as I'm sure this is all daunting and difficult for them too. My parents have come up twice now to help me out, and I really couldn't get through this without them. That being said, we've had some pretty funny times coexisting in my tiny NYC apartment. A few favorite moments thus far:

1) My dad came up on Tuesday night in time for my port implant surgery on Wednesday. We now refer to the 48 hours between his arrival and my mom's arrival on Thursday night as "the bachelor life". This is a time for cutting corners, not picking up after yourself, and doing whatever we want. It was a good run of doing things "our way". Though I'm pretty sure with my surgery and my dad's cooking skills, we never would have survived without my friend Matthew coming over to make us dinner!

2) My mother made pancakes the morning after my first treatment. She complained that I didn't have a griddle (her usual method for making pancakes) and that my kitchen was too small for the task. There's about a 3 inch strip of counter space between my stove and the sink, and that's about all the counter space the apartment came with! My mother didn't want to balance the bowl of batter on that, so she announced that she was putting it in the sink itself. My father, wanting to get himself juice AND be eco-friendly, decided he would rinse out his Dunkin Donuts coffee cup for reuse. He assumed that anything in the sink was dirty and took to rinsing out his cup with no real concern for where the water splashed. About 2 minutes later, my mother was ready for the next batch of pancakes and found a surprising amount of water in the batter bowl. I believe her exact words, which she repeated frequently in a high pitch yell, were "Are you an idiot?!" I laughed so hard for about 3 minutes straight that I needed to take a nap immediately after breakfast!

3) Heating up leftovers for me on Sunday after my first treatment, my mother put the aluminum container with the cover (one side white, one side metalic) into the microwave. Seeing this from the couch, I tried to stop her, but she assured me that she puts these types of containers in her microwave at home all the time and that it was fine. About 10 seconds later, she spotted the fire she'd started in my microwave and ran over to press stop. The cover and the container itself had caught fire, and the whole apartment was filled with that fun smoky smell. She then blamed my microwave!!! Oh, and the left overs tasted smoky and were completely ruined. (L'Heureux Family - it reminded me of the time when I was a kid and we went skiing and the spaghetti sauce got burned, so you lied and told me it was hickory flavored... and I believed you! Well not this time!)

In addition to my parents, Derek, Beth, and Luke (my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew) have been great support. They sent me a care package with a netflix subscription, organic snacks, and Gatorade Fierce (taping a note on the bottle to remind me that I too am Fierce) . But the best thing was a bag of Starburst with a note taped on it that said "Warm Apartment + Starbursts = Grandma's House". My apartment is always 90 degrees, so yes, he managed to bring a happy childhood memory back to me with one bag of candy! All I'm missing now is the Kool-Aid!

They also sent me the best picture EVER. I've put this on my refrigerator and l look at it all the time. THANKS GUYS!

I Hate Limitations

The first week of life on chemotherapy was full of ups and downs. My spirits were somewhat refreshed to see how much better I was feeling and how much more energy I had as the week progressed. At the same time, returning to the office and other events of the week forced me realize that I do have limitations that I must face over the next few months. I hate limitations.

My week started out somewhat comical though slightly annoying. On Monday, I went for a heart scan out in Elmhurst (which is a pain to get to). I was told to not eat or drink anything after midnight the night before, which for someone who needs to stay hydrated due to special kidney medicine, is not easy! I felt pretty miserable (and very dehydrated), so asked the doctor when I got there if I could at least have a little water. She told me "Oh, you can eat or drink anything you want to. Did the receptionist who called you tell you not to have anything? Oh, I keep telling her it's only the heart stress test that you can't eat or drink for. Sorry!" I would have punched the receptionist on my way back to the waiting room, but I was too tired/weak to do it... and was too overjoyed that I could run to the Dunkin Donuts across the street and feast!

After my feast (during which time the blood cell tracers they'd injected me with time had time to settle), I returned to the office to be injected with radioactive elements and then get scanned. After 20 minutes on the table, the doctor came over and started moving me around and hitting the injection area (OW!). After a few minutes she said, "I can't find your heart!" I'm pretty sure I have several exes who would testify that there isn't one in there. I'm also pretty sure that I, with no medical training, could find my heart using this million dollar machine. I even pointed to where it was on my body to help her. "SCAN HERE". Unfortunately, it seems I'd gotten a "compromised" dose of the radioative elements and would have to come back tomorrow to try it again. And yes, the next day, after eating breakfast (SCORE!), I returned and they were able to find my heart. She even printed me out a picture to prove it. I'm thinking of framing it and putting it on the wall as proof for future relationships.

Though I'd done some work from home on Monday and Tuesday (and throughout my weeks of medical fun), Wednesday marked my first day back in the office. Though I excitedly left my apartment that morning, I was soon slapped in the face by reality when the commute into the city proved to kick my ass. Carrying my lap top in one hand and a bag full of stuff that I needed in the other, I was in pain and exhausted by the time I reached Grand Central. I walked somewhat like a zombie to my office and collapsed into my desk chair. After a short rest, I was ready to tackle the day... which somehow turned into a 10 hour ordeal! WELCOME BACK! If I thought I was exhausted getting there, all I had to do was wait until it was time to leave to discover true exhaustion!

After discussing my day with my friend Heather, she got me to realize that I'm an "A Student". I push and push and push, go the extra mile, stay late, do the extra credit work even if I don't need to, and am not satisfied with anything except my absolute best. I need to smack that "A Student" down for a few months and learn to live by the limits I set for myself. It's not a matter of "I can't stay late to finish that project" but rather "I choose not to stay late to finish that project." I'm currently working the terms of all this out with my employer and hope that I can train myself to live by what we decide!

The other major realization of limits this week came also on Wednesday night. My friend Chris called at around 6 that evening to invite me with him to a surprise show that night. He wouldn't tell me what it was until he was sure he'd secured the tickets. He called back to say that he'd gotten (for free) 3rd row orchestra seats for the Lady Gaga concert at Radio City Music Hall that night! He was so excited... I was so excited... and then reality set in. I was exhausted after working a 10 hour day. I wasn't supposed to be in large crowds, especially those screaming (spitting), sweating, coughing, etc. And I had been having bad headaches from light and sound sensitivity, so a rock concert was probably not a smart idea. It KILLED me inside, but I told him to find someone else to go with. I know I made the right decision, but that doesn't make it any easier to do or think about later. There was definitely some angry crying that night at home. But hurdle crossed, lesson learned. Plus, I made Chris text me the next day and say that the concert sucked. It might be a lie, but I'm ok with that!

Despite these glaring reminders of my limitations, I was encouraged this week by being grateful for and enjoying the things that I can do. The rest of my work week was much more comfortable as I controlled my time and work load better. I had friends come over for dinner a couple of nights this week, and was happy to have the energy to eat, chat, and watch TV with them like normal. Friday night I had a great dinner with some NYU friends, and except for the fact that I wasn't drinking margaritas with them, it felt like a completely normal evening out. Earlier today I grabbed brunch with some friends in town from Rhode Island, and feel that I have plenty of energy to go out tonight and sing karaoke at my friend Mike's birthday party. These are things I certainly couldn't have done during the weeks of medical madness, and it's good to know that I'll feel up for these types of activities 75% of the days each coming month. So there's no Lady Gaga or drunken nights dancing (oh, I do love both those things)... but it could (and has been) a lot worse.

Chemo Makes Cancer Feel Like Cancer

So the big day finally arrived. I was super focused on getting treatment started so that I could feel like I was on the road to healing. (Also given the size of my tumor and the pressure it put upon some major blood vessels and my airway, I wanted this done ASAP). Unfortunately, it seems that I really failed to grasp just exactly what "treatment" would mean and how long the road to recovery would actually "feel".

Friday I went to my oncologist office, and after some blood work and testing for allergies, I got my first treatment. From talking to other people, I thought the treatment consisted of sitting in a big leather recliner for a while and watching TV while the medicine dripped into me through an IV. Though I'm disappointed to have missed the second half of The Price Is Right, getting the injections over in 5 minutes beats hanging around in the chair for a while. Basically, my doctor puts a needle/IV in my port (which yes, I can see now, and is totally creeping me out... pictures to come when I can stomach it!). I didn't feel a thing, which is pretty awesome, especially since that whole area is still tender from surgery. The doctor then injects the 4 different chemo meds through that IV. We were happily chatting to pass the few minutes, until all of a sudden one of them hit me like a brick wall and I was horribly nauseous. We slowed down the injection speed and things subsided a bit. He told me I'd really feel it in the next 2-3 hours and to just rest and drink fluids.

I had some soup for lunch, which was an AWFUL idea. The very thought of that soup, or any soup, makes me nauseous, even as I'm writing this. I think it's now mentally associated with the wave of nausea and overall sickness that came shortly after eating it. My friend Jayde (who works in cancer pharmacy) later told me that she always advises patients to eat something they don't really like right after injections, that way it doesn't ruin a food you loved. Not that I LOVED soup, but I will miss eating it for the next few months as I try to disassociate it from chemo nausea.

As predicted, about 2 hours after the treatment I felt about as sick as I've ever felt in my life. Chemo feels like the worst hang over you've ever had, except you don't have those "last night was awesome" memories to make you smile. It also feels like the worst hang over you've ever had while also having the flu. I slept a decent amount, but was almost afraid of sleeping too much and being awake (and miserable) all night. Oh no, I still slept a good 10-11 hours at night too, so I've learned to just sleep as much as I want... no repercussions.

In addition to the awful nausea, chemo also gives me body aches, extreme fatigue, and headaches. I become SUPER sensitive to light and sound, to the poiint that I spent a few hours both Friday night and Saturday just sitting in a chair in the dark in my room. Any sound (from the TV, my parents talking in the next room, etc) or any light (even the light peeking through the door cracks) gave me an intense migraine! I wound up doing a suduko puzzle by the narrow light of the door, and have discovered that it's a good barometer for my recovery. Friday night, it took me FOREVER to the do the first easy puzzle in the book. However, though I was still sensitive to light and sound on Saturday Saturday, it took me much less time to complete the puzzle. As odd as it sounds, it really made me realize the progress in recovery that I was actually making. Thanks suduko! (and Derek and Beth for sending me the book in a care package!)

Saturday I had to go for a lung function test. Given my nausea, fatigue, etc., I clearly was not in the mood for this. I informed the super energetic nurse giving the test that I'd had chemo the previous day and felt like crap. She still made me blow super hard into the tube and hold my breath for long periods of time. At the end of the exam, I was about ready to pass out, and she felt awful! I had to lay on an exam table in an empty room for a while to recover! Then, of course, came home and napped the rest of the day!

By Sunday, I was feeling somewhat better and not having as successful of naps during the day. My energy had come back and I was able to actually watch TV without getting a massive headache. I'd say that on a scale of 1-10, Friday was a 2, Saturday was a 4, and Sunday was a 6. I only rank Friday as a 2 because I have a feeling the next treatment or two will actually be worse, so I wanted to save the 1 for the really bad stuff! Sunday was also an odd day, as I could begin to feel the lymphnodes actually breaking down in my neck. I had a tough time sleeping that night, as my neck was spasming and readjusting itself to the new "space" being created. Totally creepy! But it does mean reduced swelling and one step closer to being able to breath like normal again!

To be honest, chemo knocked me off my horse and flat onto my ass. I think I had spent so much time focusing on starting the treatment, and not enough actually mentally prepping myself for how sick it would make me. It really brought my positive attitude down a lot, but it's slowly building back up (in time for the next treatment!). The thought of going through this every 2 weeks scares me and makes me wonder how the hell I can continue to endure it. I'm almost traumatized from round one and have between 7 and11 more doses to go. This is going to be a lot harder and take a lot longer that I'd anticipated!

At the moment, the items in the "next time will be better" column include:

1) I won't have just had 2 surgeries that also hurt (but honestly, the chemo hurt so much, I barely noticed that other things hurt!)

2) My lymphnodes and tumor will have shrunk enough that I can sleep flat again instead of having to sit upright. The thought of curling up while laying down is like a dream to me!

3) I won't be afraid to just sleep it all off, rather than thinking that I'd be awake all night.

4) I'll know that it'll pass in a few days and I'll feel better soon.

Items in the "next time will be worse" column include:

1) After the injection, I'll have a new, higher level of chemo in my body (remnants of the old, plus the new). This should make things even worse!

2) Knowing what's coming makes it's harder to deal with than being naive

3) Resigning myself to the idea that I will get horribly sick for 2-3 days every 2 weeks for the next couple of months is a hard, bitter pill that I've been trying to swallow.

As much as going through scans, tests, surgeries, and insurance BS sucked, this is the moment where I'm really needing the spirit boost. I know I have to stay positive and upbeat, but having faced the storm once and knowing this boat has to navigate it numerous more times is super challenging right now. But I intend to use the blog and continue having fun with it as much as I can! Thinking up some contests and challenges to keep this fun for all and make me smile. More on that soon...

Surgery: The Sequel

Wednesday morning I went for surgery to have a port installed in my right side upper chest. It was a familiar trip back to Mt Sinai Manhattan, and I even wound up in the same operating room and recovery room as my last visit. I think I freaked some of the nurses out by remembering their names and saying hello!

I only had local anesthesia and was awake for most of the procedure; however, I couldn't really feel much. All I felt was pressure on the area being worked on. I had a blue sheet over my face so that I couldn't see anything either. With the drugs, I didn't so much care about seeing anything or wondering what was behind all that pressure. I just kind of laid there drifting in and out of sleep. I did, however, feel the last few sutures as they went in. I started to moan out "ow" and the doctor told me he was just suturing me up and almost done. Most people would freak out... I was so drugged that I was just like "oh, cool. ok! take your time"

Recovery at the hospital was a lot easier than the previous time. I was quickly awake and full of energy and got frustrated that they made me wait before I could have my apple juice and crackers (I hadn't eaten all day and it was 12pm by now!). As I sat waiting in recovery, I couldn't help but think how lucky I was compared to the people around me. The person on my left had recently had his appendix out, but the pain had continued. It turned out that he actually had stomach cancer. The guy on the right of me was 84, but in amazing condition. He had a tumor on his bladder and after several extensive procedures, he was up beat and telling dirty jokes to the doctors. I really felt inspired by his positive outlook at such an old age despite such a list of serious procedures he'd just undergone. And across from me was an 11 week old baby with her mother. She didn't cry for the first 30 minutes, but oh boy, then she must have woken up! Looking around at the situations around me, I felt fortunate that I ONLY had a very manageable form of cancer and was young enough and in good enough health to handle it. I hope all 3 of my fellow patients recover well!

I didn't feel as busted as after my last surgery, but still spent most of the afternoon resting. I wanted comfort food that night, so I had the idea that my Dad could make a boxed chow mein kit from Fall River (nothing better than that!). Unfortunately, the concept of going to the store and buying ground chicken, an onion, and a celery, was a little too foreign for him! So I enlisted my friend Matthew to join us for dinner and supervise (ie. take over) the preparation. Matthew did a great job at preparing the Southeastern Massachusetts delicacy, and it was JUST what I needed. Of course, I'd popped 2 percosets by this point and was VERY loopy. I kept mixing up the order of all my words and was even moving furniture around until my father stopped me! So I'm sure I would have eaten anything given how drugged up/happy I was.

2 days later, now that I've removed the bandages, I'm upset that the port doesn't look as sci-fi as I was hoping. To be honest, I can't even locate it under the steri-strips that are still on there. How am I supposed to upload new skills ala The Matrix or connect with nature ala Avatar if I can't even find my port!? Oh well, I'm sure the doctor will know what to look for.

I'm off to the oncologist for my first round of chemotherapy. Finally the recovery portion of this journey begins! I'll write an update on that as soon as I'm feeling up to it. Until then, thanks again for all the support and prayers. I may not answer everyone's message (it would take me DAYS), but I certainly read and appreciate them all.

Oh, and if you're looking for ways to help out, my friend David is running the Miami Marathon on behalf of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. He was training and running long before my diagnosis, and my journey has renewed his commitment to running. Just the other day, he wrote me that my bone marrow biopsy blog entry inspired him to get off the couch and run that 5 mile training race he was supposed to do. If you want to help his fundraising efforts for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, you can donate via his webpage: http://pages.teamintraining.org/nyc/miami10/dtracyqhgp

I Got Worse Than Shot

I have NOT been looking forward to bone marrow biopsy day at all, but alas it was here. The doctor called me in and there was no kidding around that this was miserable. The actual procedure only takes a few minutes, but wow does it feel like forever.

Needle 1: Anesthesia - not a simple injection. Rather, the needle goes in, and they inject, then in deeper, and they inject again, then in deeper, and they inject some more... and well, you get the idea. And no, it doesn't really numb as it goes along!

Needle 2: Bone Marrow Liquid - this is where the REAL pain began. Fortunately I'm really skinny, so the distance between skin and bone on my hip isn't that far. Basically, the needle goes inside the bone to gather some fluid. And it feels just like that... something going inside your bone. They must have hit a nerve on the way in too, cuz my whole leg was in major pain. I clutched my balled up sweater, concentrated on a dot on the wall, and managed to stay pretty zen. Only a minor sweat.

Needle 3: Bone Sample - my Mother always told me to drink milk as a kid so that I would grow up to have strong bones. She would be SO proud! The problem with getting a bone sample when you have super strong bones is that they really have to dig into you to get that chip! This is the most painful thing that I have ever experienced while awake, especially since my steel bones made it take so much longer! We're talking full on sweat, whimper/screams, and a complete loss of the zen stare/breathing technique I was trying so hard to manage.

When the procedure was over, the doctor told me that recently he's performed this procedure on a cop. The cop said that it hurt more than the time he'd been shot. So yea, I got "worse than shot" today. AWESOME

The walk home (yes, we're urban, we walk) from the doctor's office was SLOW and painful. I kept apologizing to my friend Matthew for limping so slowly... but then again, he's had surgery on both hips, so he understands. Matthew managed to snap this gem of a picture of me shortly after I arrived home. He thought it was very Edie Beale ala Grey Gardens (documentary about Jackie O's crazy hermit cousin)

Other than the literal pain in my butt, my other pain in the butt of the day has been with ordering my chemotherapy drugs. In a nut shell, I can't get them at your average pharmacy, and the private pharmacies that I called claim United Healthcare won't reimburse them. I called United and they directed me to a number of telephone/mail order specialty pharmacies. Not the end of the road yet! One only has some of the drugs, and others have them but don't work with United (I don't know why United would advise me to contact a pharmacy that doesn't work with them!?!?). Even my Dad, as "Health Care King" is completely frustrated by the whole situation. Boo United Health Care!!! I already have one pain in the butt, I do not need another!

Tomorrow is port surgery day. They install a port into my chest for my chemo injections. I will not be completely knocked out, but will have enough drugs that I won't really know whats going on. I'm really good at getting to that "not yet asleep, but not conscious of anything" happy place, so I'm sure this will be a real treat. :-)

They Were Just Begging Me To Shop

So today was bone scan day. I had to go all the way out to Elmhurst to the lab, where they injected me with some radioactive fluid and told me I had to wait 2 hours before they could scan me. Of course, this lab was CONVENIENTLY located across the street from Target and a block away from the largest shopping mall in Queens. They were just begging me to shop for 2 hours, and I happily obliged.

I hadn't indulged in retail therapy yet, but must admit, I had a great time. I began to think... what is cancer patient sheik this season? I needed new lounge/pajama pants for Thursday's PET scan anyway, so I purchased an organic cotton pair (certainly very trendy in our increasingly eco/green friendly world). I also snatched up a bright yellow hooded sweatshirt to keep energy up. And of course, a couple of hats and scarves so that I can accessorize. I think I'm runway ready...

And yes, I also bought new jeans and some cute "going out" shirts. It wasn't all sweatpant sheik.

I also got myself a pill sorter (I feel like a senior citizen). I've started taking allopurinal, which helps my kidneys. Apparently, the chemo will breakdown the tumor and I'll pee it all out (giving new joy to every bathroom trip for the next 4-6 months!). If I don't take the medicine or drink lots of water, I won't be able to break it all down and I'll get really bad kidney stones... and eventually kidney failure. What fun! So anything (including a little plastic box with the day of the week on it) that helps me to remember to take my pills is helpful. I'm sure they'll be even more pills to take once the chemo starts.

The bone scan went fine. I did a good job at not moving for a very long time. I'm sure if you'd asked my mother when I was 5 or 6 years old if I was or would ever be capable of staying still that long, she'd have said "NEVER!"

Tomorrow is bone marrow sample day. Gigantic needle. Pain. And a great opportunity for me to practice meditating and finding Zen while they do it. Can't wait!