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.