Beautiful Stranger

Earlier this month, at my physical therapy waiting area, I met a young woman who recently got diagnosed with leukemia. Interestingly, she was a radiation oncologist resident at Mount Sinai hospital. We connected via issues we face as young adults with cancer. She was sweet, but seem bitter and jaded from her experiences. Understandably so, I felt a bit unnerved as she was sharing her story. Long story short, she was determine unfit by the hospital's Wellness Board to treat patients. Since she can no longer work as a resident, she is being evicted from the hospital's housing apartment for residents. To top it off, the day she got diagnosed, her boyfriend left her. After we departed, I thought a lot about her. I'm not sure if I could help her emotionally without causing myself stress, which was one of the reasons, I did not ask for her contact information. I hope she's doing better than I left her.

She reminds me of  how extraordinarily lucky I am to have an incredible network of supportive family and friends in my life. The holidays, specifically Thanksgiving, mark the anniversary of my life After Cancer. I made it to my third year. Three years is a long time for someone with stage IV. I'm hoping for more anniversaries to celebrate with the people I love so dearly. Thank you all so much for your love, support, patience and reading my blog. :)
 

I got dumped!

Getting dumped is a pretty awful feeling that I thought generally existed only in the dating world. That's not true as I have found out. My doctor walked in and jokingly said, "So did anyone tell you that I'm dumping you today?" I was caught off guard and hoped that he was actually joking. But alas, he's moving on to bigger and better things in the lung cancer medical world to become a Director in another institution to teach, research, and work on clinical trials. I thought, No! This can't be! I was already missing the bluntness and directness of his approach that grew on me after 3 years, and the comfort and familiarity of seeing him at the hospital. After we hugged, I tried not to cry as we closed off with the status of my PET scan (stable! yah!) and what my next options would be once this treatment stops working. I most likely won't see him again, but I have his contact information. He did encourage us to call if we have any questions and even stated that if there is a clinical trial at his new facility that might be of interest, we can contact him. Maybe it's not the end of the relationship but a change in our relationship.

Flowers for Algernon

I had recently finished the book "Flowers for Algernon" which seems to be a classic school read. It was about a 32 year old man with a below average IQ who had an experiment performed on him to slowly transform him into a highly intellectual being. Unfortunately, the experiment appeared to only work temporarily and he started to lose his vast knowledge.

I had an almost similar experience. One afternoon, I suddenly felt numbness on my right hand and forearm, then the bottom half of my face, then my left hand. I can't remember this ever happening before. I rushed to urgent care, then started feeling dizzy and vomited. The neurologist asked simple questions that I was conscious of, but somehow wasn't able to answer them. All I could think of was Flowers for Algernon.

I was diagnosed with a seizure that most likely resulted from the tumor that was radiated earlier this year. I'm on an anti-seizure drug (Keppra) now indefinitely, but I'm so glad that to have regained my focus.

 

First Wife

As I am aware that my life span is shorter than that of an average person, I think about how the lives of my family and close friends will play out after I'm gone. For example, I wonder how my parents' retirement will be like, how many kids my brother will have, and, of course, if my husband will remarry. I came across this article that really hit home.

http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2011/05/my_husbands_other_wife.html

I just don't want my husband to forget me, but I want him to be happy even if it means remarrying. As the first wife, I hope the second will be someone like the author. For now, I'll just keep on creating new memories with him.

What if...

My back has been hurting from a compressed fracture (caused by a metastasis) even after radiation treatment. I've been debating whether to get a procedure called kyphoplasty, which involves injecting bone cement into the vertebrae for stabilization and possible pain management. Surgery is never the optimal choice for me, even if it's minimally invasive. It's times like these that sometimes makes me wonder - What if I didn't have cancer. In my mind, I would have a brighter, happier, more active, pain-free life with unlimited potential. Alas, if only that could become reality. I have to admit that it's somewhat depressing to think about what I can't have. Perhaps it's better to think - What if I didn't even catch this cancer. Maybe everyday after I have been diagnosed is a bonus. And I hope the bonuses keep coming.

Break-ups are Never Easy

I was an active member of NYSC for over 10 years. I love that I can go anytime and anywhere as its presence is ubiquitous. When I go in stressed or frustrated, I always come out happy and ready to take on the world. It was my sanctuary. During those years, I made an effort to not let anything interrupted my 4x/week gym time.

Since I have been diagnosed, my attendance at NYSC plummeted, but I didn't cancel my membership. I kept hoping that I would return and get back to my old self. So every now and then, I walked a block down to relive the past. It's a different gym though. It has changed at some point in my absence into a new gym with new machines, new staff, and different members. It didn't feel like home, especially when the aches and pains limit me from utilizing some of the equipment there.

Last year, I knew that NYSC has more than I would need in terms of location, equipment, people, etc. But it took until today, for me to have the heart to finally walk into the club and sign my cancellation form. I walked out crying. I just broke up with my constant, my haven, my past.

I know the end of one era begins another. It's still difficult for me, but I'll eventually come to terms with giving up my membership. These days I reserve enough energy to go to my small building gym 3-4x/week. I customize my workouts to maintain and aim to achieve the same goals I had in the past. Regardless of where, at least I still get to have my sanctuary.

A Good (?) Reason for Insomnia

After receiving radiation for my brain, the tumor generally would swell up. To counter that, I am currently on a steroid intake schedule for another week. As usual my body wants to rest, but my brain does not.

In an effort to tire my brain, I have been trying to read more. I came across The Fault in Our Stars (by John Green) about a teenage girl afflicted by cancer and living her life. I just finished the book and I can't stop thinking about how simple yet so insightful it was. I'm not a book critic, but if anything deserves to be #1 New York Times Bestseller, it's this. It was so profound and poignant in every way about relationships, love, meaning of life, and more. So good, I might have to re-read it.

A movie based on the book comes out in June. I'm very excited about it!
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2582846/

New Years News

I had a PET scan on New Years Eve. The following day I received a call from my oncologist. It's almost always a bad sign when a doctor calls, especially on a holiday. The cancer had progressed in my lungs, spine and lymph nodes. This is the fourth time a treatment has ceased to be effective for me, but the news still hits me hard. Maybe even more so the fourth time around as there feels like less treatment options available. Admittedly, this hopeless feeling is due to my ignorance of available treatments, but I can't shake the fear that my days are imminently numbered.

For now, as I wait to get a brain and spine MRI before determining the next chemo and radiation treatments, I wonder whether I have gotten the most out of life.

                   
UPDATE:
Currently, I'm getting my spine radiated. Other than some soreness in my upper back, I'm dealing with the radiation fairly well.

Next Tues, after I finish the spine radiation therapy, I'll have Stereotactic Radiosurgery (SRS) for the tumor in my brain. The term surgery is a misnomer since SRS is really radiation beams directed at the tumor. It sounds simple, but learning about the procedure made me cringe. The day will start at 7am (early!). I'll be fitted with a (heavy?) metal halo looking object around my head with pins penetrating the skin to keep the halo in place. Sounds painful. I jokingly asked the nurse if I could put topical Lidocaine all over my forehead to help me deal with the pain better. She said probably not since the placement of the halo is unknown at the moment. With the halo on, I'll get CT and MRI brain scans used by the radiation team to map out the course of action. The wait for the final analysis and treatment will require some patience.

The radiation beams will target various points of the brain, which will most likely cause hair loss in those areas. After my first experience with hair loss, I have thinner hair and much more white hair. Even so, I don't want to loss what I have waited so long for. But the tumor is close to the ocular nerves, so further growth could affect my vision. Choosing between vision and hair is obvious, but hair loss is still hard to deal with. I can't do anything other than to suck it up and hope for better days ahead.