Life so far

I have now been in Berkeley for almost an entire continuous week. It feels like 10 weeks.

Classes: are good! I don't have any previous experience in any of the areas we're studying (politics, econ, stats, law) but I feel (perhaps prematurely) that I can totally do this. So far it's even been enjoyable learning. And not working? Well that's just icing on the cake.

Home: is coming together. Here is my new room!

After 3 trips to IKEA, I finally have enough receptacle space for all my shit. Friday night I went into the Depths of Hell for hopefully the last time. I bought a desk, came home, assembled said desk, and then hung up all my paintings. Next I'm going to get to work on our common space. We need art on the walls, a toaster, a table, and... some character. Also if I get a particular cord we can hook up the TV to the DVD player and actually watch movies.

Social life: I'm so freakin tired. On Saturday night I braved a party with my classmates and was very happy that I did. Making conversation between classes has been difficult for me, but put in me in a situation when I have a beer in my hand and can swear a lot? Perfect. Much like classes, I'm getting the feeling that I can do this. I can make new friends. I can build another community. Other than that, I'm just trying to keep yoga-ing (I keep having dreams where I can finally get my foot behind my head... so close!), do all of my homework, and of course spend inordinate amounts of time on Facebook. Breaking out beyond these activities requires my super powers, but hopefully as things settle down I will be able to return phone calls. But yeah, I miss all of you.

Cancer: things are ok. I have a new oncologist down here and my first appointment was fairly disappointing. I think it was a combination of 3 things:
1) No one will ever be Dr. K and the Swedish staff. They were totally amazing, we went through a lot together and they saw me all the way through--no new doctor coming in at the 11th hour is going to be able to beat that.
2) He really isn't as cool or lovable as Dr. K. Even objectively. And he didn't seem to give a shit. I'm a maintenance patient. I have no problems. It's not thrilling to see me looking healthier and healthier every week because he wasn't there when I was really sick. And also, I think he might kind of an ass hole.
3) Whenever I see a new specialist, I have to re examine the ALL diagnosis, the treatment plan, and my own agency in it all. Dr K, for reasons I completely understand, left no gray area when it came to treatment or diagnosis. He was like "this is it, this is what we're doing" and it was kind of nice because as the patient you are actually the person saying, "yes, you may put this poison in my body and I authorize it" and technically you have the power to deny any part of your treatment. And so you have to trust that your doctor knows what's up because you have no idea. I hate it when other oncologists then look at my treatment and say "well I would have done this differently" because look, dude, I just spent a year in hell because I thought it was the only way through so please for the love of God do NOT undermine my shakey confidence in what I am doing. Anyway, my new onc was just like "oh I don't do it this way..."
However, one of the things he doesn't want to do is see me every week for a blood draw! So hopefully I can just move to going in every 4 weeks for my Vincristine.

So that's the short of it. It's going to be ok.

Do over

Today I tried really hard all day to be in a good mood. I was like, "DAMMIT JESSIE HOW DO YOU EXPECT GOOD THINGS TO COME INTO YOUR LIFE IF YOU AREN'T HAPPY AND GRATEFUL??? BE HAPPY, DAMMIT."

As you can imagine, it was a complete FAIL on my part.

Yesterday was insane. Today I only went to work for about 3 hours. Then I just wanted to die. So I went home and took some klonopin. If benzos are in the same family as alcohol, they are probably depressents which would explain why I felt so morose coming down? Drugs are not the answer to all problems, apparently. I need to unwind from June, but I just don't know where to start.

There are a lot of things for which I am grateful. First and foremost is that life is exciting and dynamic enough to be presenting all of these challenges. So I just need to balance the thrill of all of this stimulous and still be sane and healthy.

Here is the high light from today:
This morning I got up a little early (inspiration credit AC) and did some stretching and reading of Mary Oliver poems.

ONE OR TWO THINGS
Don't bother me.
I've just
been born.

The butterfly's loping flight
carries it thourgh the country of the leaves
delicately, and well enough to get it
where it wants to go, wherever that is, stopping
here and there to fuzzle the damp throats
of flowers and the black mud; up
and down it swings, frenzied and aimless; and sometimes

for long delicious moments it is perfectly
lazy, riding motionless in the breeze on the soft stalk
of some ordinary flower

The god of dirt
came up to me many times and said
so many wise and delectable things, I lay
on the grass listening
to his dog voice,
crow voice,
frog voice, now,
he said, now,
and never once mentioned forever,

which has nevertheless always been,
like a sharp iron hoof,
at the center of my mind.

One or two things are all you need
to travel over the blue pond, over the deep
roughage of the trees and through the stiff
flowers of lightening--some deep
memory of pleasure, some cutting
knowledge of pain.

But to lift the hoof!
For that you need
an idea.

For year and years I struggled
just to love my life. And then

the butterly
rose, weightless, in the wind.

"Don't love your life
too much," it said,

and vanished
into the world.
-Mary Oliver

And with that, I'm off to bed to try again tomorrow.

Too late for Swine Flu jokes?

Week from Hell, round 1=over. Week from Hell, round 2=nagging at the back of my mind and causing anxiety. It is now the weekend. I just awoke from a 5 hour, klonopin induced nap on a Saturday afternoon. I have no plans to leave my house until Monday morning. Even though it would dramatically improve my quality of life next week to work through this weekend, I simply cannot. It is time to rest.

This week was interesting because I knew how much I was hurting my body by working long, high stress days. I knew it was making this awful cold about 10 millions times worse. But there was no. Way. Out. I simply have so fucking much work it's impossible. And no. There are not people to delegate to because that would require taking a lot of time to explain complex systems. Stress makes me paranoid. I know it's bad--way bad. It fucks up your immune system, your digestive system, your emotional equilibrium, and I really believe it's damaging on a cellular level. I believe stress is like poison in my body. And it makes me feel grosser than the swine flu that is currently taken residence.

My health update is that despite the green goo coming out of my nose, eyes, and throat, Dr K pronounced me healthy enough to do my full cycle of chemo on Thursday night. He used his fancy doctor flashlight and said there was nothing bacterial going on in my throat and nose. Viruses--they will be the downfall of our species! I feel like absolute ass.

My personal life is taking a hard hit due to work being so crappy. I a) work all the time, b) am too tired to do a lot of stuff when I'm not working, c) rarely have the energy to reach out and talk to people who are on my social periphery and therefor look like an aloof jack ass, and d) am that annoying person who just bitches endlessly about how fucked and miserable her job is when you do finally get me in a social context. I suck. My social life sucks. My friends are still really cool.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Week from Hell, round 2 should conclude our Weeks from Hell for the month of June. This post is not about sympathy or people finding solutions to my problems. It's is about the reality of what's going on in my life. It's about my post-cancer answers to life post-cancer. It's about lessons learned and forgotten and a realignment of values. It's about trying to do it right, to have it all, and the bumps along the way. It's about blogging stoned on anti-anxiety drugs.

O e t t i n g e r, out.

Ground Control

Every four weeks I take this drug called Vincristine. I get it through an IV. In November, getting my IV started took 5 attempts and on number 6, we went for the big vein in my elbow pit—and you’re not supposed to take chemo in your joints just in case there’s a leak. Even the guy who used to work with drug addicts couldn’t find a line in. This month, the amazing Nurse Lo got it on try NUMBER ONE. She is the first person to hit on a line on the first try since I started chemo in February. She rocks. It was an awesome way to start chemo in 2009.

Vincristine’s listed side effects are: neuropathy, hypoatraemia, hair loss, and constipation. However, other than the neuropathy, the two side effects that I notice are a runny nose and sensitive skin. My nose has been dripping for the last 11 months. And if I don’t take my allergy meds every other day or so I am plagued by extreme itchiness. Cold, numb toes, itchy skin, and a runny nose are totally tolerable, but they are also REALLY annoying. Having experienced a lot of constipation and hair loss, already… well, it’s not that bad I guess.

I spent my ENTIRE day in bed. Really. I lay in bed and watched instant netflixed Heroes episodes. At 5:30 I decided that I needed to eat something, take a shower and walk around. This is me bonking out on life after an 8 day trip to Oregon. Living is exhausting.

When I was home over the break people kept asking how I was (duh) and I kept trying to explain it… I’m fine. I can do everything. And I am living my life. But I’m also living right here on the edge. It doesn’t take much to push me over the side. A bad night’s sleep, a work fuck up, a nasty fight, a 9 hour drive… I’m a wreck. I will cry if you look at me funny. I hate this. I’ve always been a very emotional person—I feel things in a big way. But I’ve spent most of my life trying to control those feelings so I didn’t like an emotional wreck. I am now an emotional wreck at least 10% of the time. I do not like it one bit.

I wish I could show you how damn cute my hair looks. Obviously, the Photobooth shots offer some idea, but it’s adorable. It has a little curl to it… and these cowlicks. It’s finally long enough to part! And I just look like a normal girl. It’s not even an ambiguous cancer look. While I have a feeling more awkward grow-out moments are coming, I will take DPEH’s comment that I look “totally, Seattle, urban, intellectual lesbian” as the compliment that he meant it.