Dear Friends,
I just finished my monthly vinchristine treatment and made my way home in the heat and humidity. Now I'm sitting on the couch with the last Harry Potter, trying to decide whether to go for it and finish it tonight, or draw it out for another 24 hours. It feels a little like when I am finished will be like sitting in the detritus of a whole pile of presents, with nothing left to open and nothing to look forward to. But hey, if cancer has taught me nothing else, it is to live for the present, right? So I'm convinced: if I have the attention for it, I'll finish the Deathly Hallows tonight.
This treatment was number 8 of 18. Not bad, because I have almost reached the halfway mark. Usually these monthly blips fall somewhere on the spectrum from a mild nuisance to a huge pain in the neck. I've noticed they edge closer to the huge pain end of the spectrum when I am not able to give myself down time to feel worn out. I just finished the intensive academic summer at Smith that I had postponed a year to do intensive chemo. It was an amazing time, and also didn't give me the luxury of time to feel worn out. So the last couple treatments have been hard. Mostly it's a week after the actual chemo, when I stop taking the dexamethasone and go through steroid withdrawal that is the worst. I wake up a day later feeling like I was hit by a truck. Most recently, I have had the odd side effect of swollen and painful knees. My doctors don't have an explanation for it, but are also not surprised by it, so this time around I'm going to preemptively treat it with ice, inversions, and acupuncture. We'll see if that helps.
Because all my energy is no longer turned inward, devoted to my healing, I have had more time to look around and start to wonder. I wonder why so many people have cancer. I wonder why so many people who graduated from my high school have been diagnosed with cancer. I wonder if, long term, there are answers to how we can keep our bodies healthy. I wonder how my experience with this disease can help others who have similar diagnoses and those who do not. I'm not really expecting any answers to come to me in a flash, but it's nice to ponder them. Even nicer to ponder them while running through the woods or swimming in a pond, as the medicines coursing through me these days are much less toxic and give me lots of room to play.
This summer was interesting for so many reasons. Eating in the dining hall and dorm living were the things I call "interesting" because I'm trying to be diplomatic and polite. Meeting all kinds of people and learning to diagnose people with the DSM IV (write me and tell me your symptoms and I'll let you know the answers to all your problems) truly was exciting and interesting. I also realized how completely cancer has become a part of me. I will, from now on, always be a cancer patient, and I'm not sure I mind that. I was almost surprised that these people who I had never met couldn't divine just from looking at me or talking to me for a few moments what I have gone through in the past year. And once they did know, that they didn't realize how transformative the experience was. But how could they? Figuring out in what ways exactly I have been transformed is another thing to add to my list of wonderings, because it is subtle.
If you have 7 minutes to spare, I highly recommend going to http://www.crazysexycancer.com and clicking on trailer. This woman made a documentary that will be airing on TLC next week and it looks pretty amazing.
The day after labor day, I begin my field placement at Duke Hospital in the inpatient psychiatry ward. In many ways I am going back to the mundane details of everyday life, but maybe looking through a slightly altered lens. While I am in contact less often with all of you through these updates, I draw from your strength often and I am very grateful for it.
Enjoy the last few weeks of summer, unless you are in the South, and in that case, good luck making it to fall.
Love,
Zpora
