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. :-)