Swedish Cancer Institute: the best place in the WHOLE world

15 down, 2 to go!!!!

Yesterday I flew up to Seattle for the day. The whole day was absolutely wonderful. It started with Julian and I at Pho Hai Yen for some rockin Rainier Valley pho and a tour of NoBea. Julian is fabulous. While part of me would like him to realize that there is no life in NoBea without me (and that he should move to the East Bay) it gives me even MORE pleasure to see him so happy and thriving in an environment I know for sure to be a GREAT PLACE. I guess that's a good thing :)

Then I went to Swedish. I had been wondering if I was being a total prima donna about the whole switch back, but the MINUTE I walked into Swedish I knew I had made the right choice. The front desk ladies were so happy to see me! My phlebotomists gave me a hug! People couldn't stop telling me how happy they were to see me and how absolutely fantastic I was looking. Dr. K and I had a longer sit down than we have in months. He told me how proud he was of me and how fantastic I looked had me flex my rockin abs for him (very appreciative) and hugged a lot and talked about all the parts of this journey that had brought me to better places. Perhaps more importantly for my readers, we talked all about the FUTURE. The FUTURE post-treatment. What it means when I am no longer tethered to an IV pole and cell-killing poisons!

The plan:
December 16: second to last infusion at Swedish
January 13: LAST infusion
Sometime in January: full PET, bone marrow biopsy, brain MRI, full blood panel... intentionally missing in this series of tests is the SPINAL TAP which Dr. K waived as I had a clean one last spring during my migraine-month.
After everything comes back clear, I'm on to semi yearly check ups which I have a feeling will consist mostly of hugs.

After seeing Dr. K I went up to treatment. Jenny B, one of my fave nurses was assigned to me which was a good time. Anita, who is my magic IV starter was on lunch, but when Jenny told her I was outside, she left her lunch just to start my IV--on the first try! Later Jenny said that Anita does not usually do these things, but that she has a liking for me! Maura and Marilyn came by for hugs and to postulate when in fact, Marilyn's son and I can get married. Maybe in a few years.

All I can say is that these are my People. I love the staff at Swedish so much.

Then I was off to an early Dinner Club (sans CL) at the AC and RAchel's. Rachel made an incredible vegan feast that involved garbanzo beans and we just enjoyed a reunion of our community. Rachel drove me back to the airport after dinner and I was in Berkeley, in my bed, by 11pm.

Damn, Seattle. You've been working out. Yesterday you were 40 degrees, sunny, and beautiful. It worked. I'll declare on the internet that I'm still madly in love with you. Wait for me, baby. I'll be back in 18 months.

Sexy sex

My tracking software has recently informed me that when you do a google search of "sexy topics" my blog comes up second. Hot. Hot. Hot.

And of course I still win when you google "the world will end tonight."

I am pretty fucking proud of that.

My post "On the sexy topics of sex and dating" may actually be my most popular hit. And self aggrandizement aside, maybe kind of relevant if you're a hot cancer chick who feels like her mojo is a little low due to some crazy hormone whacking chemo, the loss of hair, the placement of a port, the constant constipation/diarrea... you know, the sexy parts of cancer. Maybe.

Well, low mojo chemo bro, there is a light at the end of tunnel. And least, I'm seeing it.

Here are things that make me sexier because of cancer
-I love my body and appreciate it like never before
-the cancer experience gave me lots practice in voicing my needs (meaningful look)
-I still have a great rack
-I have adorable short hair
-yoga, my chemo rehab, has made me really flexible and increased my endurance

Lately the world has felt like my oyester. I think my boyfriend, Seattle, is making one last attempt to woo me even though he knows it's too late. But that doesn't stop him from pulling out all the stops: non-metaphorical boys to date, fantastically good times with old friends, connection to community, better weather... Nice try Seattle, I know it's time for a change.

Berkeley sent me an email yesterday with info about... you know, starting school. Lately I've been so overwhelmed by work that I can't possibily imagine anything past June 29. On June 29 I'll launch 3 of my summer programs. By that day I'll have compliance paperwork for over 125 members completed as well as a fully trained staff of 15 ready to do my bidding. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I mean, it HAS to happen, but how? So I can't possibly be thinking about things like finding an apartment, re-learning high school math (calculus? really?), and registering my car in the state of CA. Bleh.

Another interesting fact about my "class": no other Washingtonians! Only 4 PNW-ers! 2 Portland, a Boise, and me. In a class of 84 people! What the heck! Everyone is from California, DC, or New York. Bleh! Will people judge me for wearing chocos to formal events?

Bah, I'm going to yoga because I can only get sexier. Am I right?

Git 'er done

Yesterday I spent an hour with my therapist trying to talk about the process of merging back into Life without using sports metaphors. It was harder than you would think.

The Hick is gone, my hair is growing back, the scariest chemo is over. Yay! But I’m still really really tired. Pulling the Hick did NOT magically restore my body to what it was 10 months ago.

My body is tired, but what I don’t think I was expecting is that my brain is tired too. It’s kind of discouraging. One of the reasons I’ve been able to be so effective at my job and cover a position and half over the last two years is that I have the ability to focus and work very quickly and efficiently. Much like if I were to try to go for a run these days, I would fall back to my old 9:30 pace, when I work I immediately jump into my old 1.5 FTE in 32 hours/week and after a few hours I am so wiped out. I work a lot faster than I run, btw. So anyway, I’m trying to figure out how to get everything done with my decreased endurance levels.

Here’s something I haven’t mentioned. Lately, I dream about my hair almost every night. It’s weird. I listened to a This American Life about people who have been blinded or lost limbs and for years and years afterward in their dreams they could still see and walk. I dream that I have hair, but I also KNOW I’m not supposed to. In my dreams, I will incredulously touch my hair or look at it in the mirror it will disappear as my sub conscious remembers that I don’t actually have hair.

I was playing with my long-hair wig the other night and I finally got it to look like my hair used to. I put it on and walked around my room looking at myself from various angles. On one hand I think I have gotten so used to myself bald that seeing myself with hair is shocking. On the other hand, when I saw myself with like, my hair I looked so much like I used (but skinnier) that it was heart wrenching. I accept that this is how I look now, and I even like it, but then I remember… I miss my hair. A lot. Still.

Update: I don't care how you feel OR Pollyanna finally takes her Ambian

Note about this post: I wrote it at 5am after waking up thinking about how to make delicious red lentils AGAIN... I had my little am cooking project, but blessedly just managed to take a 2 hour nap. That makes 7 hours in one day already.... OK: here's the crazy.

Friends, I am going crazy. I think I’m about to lose it. The Predisone is over, my hair is finally coming out for real (goodbye soft buzz, hello shiny Q ball), and I have Cancer. This is hard. Even when it’s all good news and Green Energy Bubbles and Things Working Out… I have this marathon I have to run. And I’m going to mix terrible metaphors like crazy and tell you that I know I ran the first part like a champion because I was in good shape and I had good genes, but I’m still scared and exhausted when I look at the next 20 miles. (Mile 6: arbitrary)

It’s been an insane few weeks and I knew at one point I was going to have to stop my warm up run, skirting along the Edge of the Lake of Objectification (oh, Cancer: you affect all of us! How interesting you are!) and I’ve definitely donned the crazy pants for a sprint or two (freak out!) but on my little journey here, I feel like I’m getting closer and closer to the door (run, path, CP, door, pick a metaphor!) marked “Jessie’s Cancer, come on in…” It’s cool, I call Crazy Pants Card (and I win, right LYLAR?) and at some point in the next 72 hours I hope I can open the door and have a meltdown in the hallway because I have a premonition that’s the next step. I feel it building in a gross, gross, yucky, melt-y insides way.

I like to think about things like Cancer and Health and Infirmary and what they Mean. I’m a big fan of the word “paradigm.” All of these things have been helping me tremendously in my effort to find context for a lot of my experiences. When the personal gets to be too much, they’ve helped me not think about me and think about how other people could possibly be feeling in relation to me. Notice: OVER.

The other afternoon on the phone I had this breakthrough with my sister. I don’t care how she feels. I also don’t care how my mom feels. I just can’t anymore. And it’s OK to blog this because I told Sarah that and she was the person who gave me the A-OK to say out loud and to feel it. I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYONE BUT ME RIGHT NOW. Harry Potter-style, is this the password to get in my stupid metaphorical cancer door?

I mean, obviously I still have other shit going on and none of that is changing, but it’s 5 am and I think I just got about 5 hours of sleep (! Ambian+Red Wine) and I’m in the mood to talk about Being Sick instead of how I’m actually OK (it’s OK everyone! I’m OK!) I’m in the mood to entertain all the things that scare me about what’s going on.
List Style
Relapse: cancer forever. My body makes bad cells.
Chemo Brain: who am I if I am not quick witted? Don’t answer: fragile ego
Being Ugly: is wearing on me, I am getting fatter. I have zits on my chin. My soft hair has 5 hours left in existence.
Embracing the selfish: I already find myself a trial. I spend so much of my time considering how to be a good friend and I think that’s why I’m lucky to have such good friends. I think I’m about to be a Bad Friend. Blah, blah.

Secret-style (for those who are new to my blog I think the Secret is bullshit, but I like to do gratitudes anyway), I'd be remiss not let you know that I'm still grateful and all that, I just am wondering if that's what's standing between me and what feels like a looming and necessary mental breakdown sometime this weekend. I mean, I just HAVEN'T SLEPT IN LIKE WEEKS and it's MAKING ME CRAZY.