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.

On the sexy topics of sex and dating

Bekah sent me a long email the other day that brought up what would happen if we blogged about the sex and dating lives of two hot chicks with cancer. The answer: who knows? Because enough of our family and friends and people we’ve had sex with (sorry, to out you as a non virgin, B) read our blogs and really…

Anyway. Tonight I’m going to a party. There will be a young man there who my friends would like to set me up with. They brought up the subject with him many months ago followed by, “Oh… and she has cancer… so you might want to wait a few months.” I guess he responded in a slightly horrified way (much as I would… cancer—no thanks! Those people have baggage!) and then when I did meet him at a party it was horribly, horribly awkward because I was obviously cancer-girl. In about an hour and half I am going over to his house (that he shares with my friend Brandon) for a party. As I have the ultimate cancer-perspective, our last encounter ceases to haunt me and I was just excited about a party (!) with my friends (!)

This afternoon CL sent me a text that said, “ps the other person whose birthday party it is is [Roommate X’s] ex… but don’t worry because you’re smarter than her.” Now I have a lot of anxiety and fear another awkward encounter; this time purely because I will be extremely awkward around this young man. But after trying on my entire wardrobe, I have found an appropriate outfit and as long as I remember to freshen up my deodorant and put some moisturizer on my “combination skin” things should be OK.

But back to paragraph 1: the sex and dating lives of hot chicks with cancer. Or in this case, my non sex and dating life. Dr. Oz said on Oprah a couple days ago that men don’t care about cellulite, so perhaps they also don’t care about temporary Alopecia. But I have also found out over the course of my short life that men are really uninterested in smart, empowered, and independent women so I fear cancer has made me even more of all of these things. It’s going to take a Salt ‘n’ Peppa “what a man” to handle me at this point.

Here is a list of things that make me feel unsexy:
-My shiny, bald head
-Watching my pubic hair fall out every time I go to the bathroom
-Being constipated for the last MONTH
-The huge bruises that I’ve gotten from being careless and low on platelets
-Suppression of hormones due to chemo

Here is a list of things that me feel sexy:
-The fact that I’ve lost almost 20 lbs with cancer
-My new yoga bod and my sexy lean muscle that’s poppin’
-The fact that I look GOOD bald
-The mysterious tan I’ve developed in spite of hiding from the sun all summer and wearing sun block
-I have an awesome rack

Well, expect more of my thoughts on this as I get totally “Real” about my sex and dating life which will hopefully materialize at some point. And don’t worry people who I have had sex with and who read this blog: I will not out you or speak of our encounters. I’m sorry I said the food at Geraldine’s was better than anything we ever had together, but the fried egg sandwich when a girl is on Pred and not on sexy hormones will make you say things like that on the internet…

How was that, B? I have a long email drafted to you that I will send soon. Mucho love.

Balder than ever?

Well tonight I was sitting in the kitchen at the counter telling Julian and Krista about how my dad was not only completely unimpressed with my 4 mile run, but urged me to do more cardio because yoga really wasn't much of a work out. Yeah, I know. What the fuck? But this is my dad who I love and who is a good man who really just doesn't think anything is quite good enough. He also told me that I needed a hobby, "a good craft project" when I told him I was too exhausted to manage work and life a few months ago. What can I say? It's hard for him that I am sick.

OK. Moving on. So I'm telling J and K this story when I notice there are little hairs all over the counter. Gross. Turns out they are MY hairs. Yes, my time has come. After 3 weeks of Adriomyacin, it makes sense: my hair is falling out. So instead of having a "party" this time around, it was just me in the bathroom with a safety razor and it was cool. I mean, if Richard isn't going to shave my head I refuse to settle for anything less. So here are the shots from head shaving #2:


The hairs this time around are shorter, but some of them are as long as 5/8 of an inch! Go little hairs!
I slightly despaired at this point and wondered if I should have gone back to Abraham at Kicks 'n' Cuts who gave me a free shave last time. But I was already committed. This project took about 45 minutes. I had more hair than I thought and getting the stuff around my ears was TOUGH.

Ah, Mr. Clean again. I only knicked myself once and while there are a few spots that could probably use a little more love, I am good for now and will correct the rest in the shower later. Being bald is OK. I was definitely pred-chubbier last time around.

Let's compare: this was taken on March 15th. I am holding up my sweater because the pred has given me a double chin like what

So I am happier about being skinnier this time around.

In other news, I think my blood transfusion from last time is bonking out because I took a 2 hour nap yesterday and a 3 hour nap today. I'm just tired. Tomorrow I see Dr. K and we may or may not go the Cytoxan route. I have serious reservations. But mostly I can't wait to tell him about my 4 mile fun run. It's my goal to be the best cancer patient ever. Give me an A! Give me an A! Approval! Approval!

The last day of steroids

Well, I can't think of a better way to start my last day of Decadron then with a 4:30 am post. I feel ok. Not too crazy right now. Not like last night when I came home at 8:30 to witness a double dinner party (after myself and the house cleaners had spent the afternoon meticulously cleaning the kitchen) and was like "If this isn't clean tomorrow morning I'm going to have a nervous break down." Then I took some Klonopin, ate some food, and chilled. I really love my roommates and they took my baby freak-out gracefully and just pacified me with portobellow mushrooms. Mmm. Roommate love.

Things. Things are ok. Today is my last cocktail of the stomach killer: pred, adrio, vincristine and while I'm grateful to hopefully go back to regular bowel movements and a peaceful esphogus, step 2 (we can talk about it now) is scary. My next drug is Clyclophosphomide. Its two main side effects are Lymphoma and Infertility. Talking about poop is one thing. Getting graphic with my friends and roommates about all the correctal, Maalox, stool softner, etc I'm on often leads to funny conversations. And even while it's painful, it's... OK. Pubic hair falling out? Funny!

Lymphoma and Infertility are significantly less funny. And they aren't immediate. And I can't control them with more OTC drugs or Zofran. And who the hell knows. And yeah I'm in a very low risk threshold. So enough about that.

Today is Bekah's PetScan. I don't talk a lot about my other cancer-buddies out of respect for their privacy, but today is important and Bekah is one of the most significant connections I've made since diagnosis. If you love cancer blogs (and who doesn't?) and brilliant, sassy, thoughtful, generous, and attractive young women with cancer (obviously, you do!) check out Bekah and send her whatever you send me. It seems to work--my generous community!

Last night (speaking of great young ladies with cancer) was my LLS group. It turns over a lot--cancer being such a transitory disease, but this was perhaps the most successful group I've been at. There were 4 of us--all currently undergoing treatment. All young women between 22-30 and able to talk to each other. It's always nice to go to LLS and talk about cancer with people who REALLY get it, but for some reason last night was just easier and more fun. I was really impressed with the other women and the insight their stories provided. And now being 8 months into treatment I'm starting to feel like a wise old cancer lady. Very positive.

Cancer and The Bus. I ride the bus to Pike Place Market to see my therapist on Tuesdays. In the polite world, most folks never stare at my Hickman and only take side glances at my short hair. This is not true on the bus. I am guaranteed every ride to engage in a conversation with a COMLETE stranger about my health status. I like it. It feels so honest. And I love to talk about myself. And so far everyone I've encountered has sent me away with genuine well wishes-- random acts of kindness. On Tuesday night the two random women standing next to me (who didn't know each other) were both survivors and for 10 minutes we just made awkward conversation about cancer. But I liked it. There are places other than Swedish where I'm not a freak. I'm not a freak on the bus.

Check out this fuzz!

So here I am with my new 1/2 cm of hair! And look at my eyebrows! Cool, huh? Well, I'm excited even if the fun won't last too long.

On Thursday night my counts were finally high enough to start my final round of Bad Chemo. Bad Chemo is 3 weekly doses of Danorubicin (adriomyacin) with Vincristine and steroids. This is followed by 1 dose of Cyclophosphomide and 8 Ara-C shots. Then Bad Chemo is over! After Bad Chemo comes 4 more weeks of the Methotrexate and then, then, then they pull the Hick?

So the bummer about Bad Chemo is:
-hair falling out again
-possible mouth sores, exhaustion, neutropenia, anemia, fevers, etc.

Dr. K is letting me do all of this out-patient if I promise to let him know immediately if I start running fevers. I also have to promise to check myself into the hospital willingly if things go south. Bad. It's about a 50/50 chance that things will get yucky.

Precautions involve avoiding germs like there's no tomorrow. I dont' know what this means for me and yoga because yoga involves rolling around on (mostly) clean floor and getting so sweaty my bandage falls off the Hick. I would be really sad to stop practicing for a few weeks, but even sadder to go back to Swedish 12 East! (For those of you not in the know, this is the Onc wing of the hospital where I'm treated.)

Just in case people were wondering about doing helpful things for cancer patients, I think the big thing to do is get out there and give away your beautiful healthy blood. Over the course of the last 8 months, about 36 awesome A+ blood donors gave one unit each that helped me with low platelets and non existent red blood cells. Thank you, blood donors!

(Is the Prozac working or what!)

Peace

I took two Xanex, slept for 10 hours, and am no longer on the war path. But sanctimonious fucks who shave their heads for little kids to get attention from their friends still suck balls. Run a fucking marathon like everyone else, tough guy!

I think Wolverine would probably give them a slashing.

Jessie gets angry

I was just internet-ing and came across this website:

http://www.stbaldricks.org/

I find it OFFENSIVE when people shave their heads to make cancer patients feel better. It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid. How can you equate you shaving your fucking head with the fact that I am taking toxic poisons that are making my hair fall out (and my stomach cells die and my mouth break out in sores and oxygen harder to circulate) ? You don’t have cancer. You don’t want cancer. What are you doing fucking shaving your head? And why didn’t you pluck out your eye lashes and shave your eyebrows while you were at it? Because you’re fucking vain and you look stupid without eyebrows and eyelashes? No shit! But that’s what happens when you have cancer, you self-serving ass hole! It’s so fucking trite. It trivializes the whole experience. Having cancer is so much more than losing your hair. Wow, I am really heated about this. I actually didn’t tell one of my friends that I have cancer because I know her to be a head shaver. She would shave her head, say it was in solidarity with a cancer patient and then everyone would tell her how cute she looked. Oh my god, I’m getting so angry just thinking about it.

So anyway, a few of my female friends did (in infinite sweetness) offer to shave their heads and I let them off the hook. If I’m sad about losing my hair, why would I want that for anyone else? I don’t. And I kind of earn the right for people to feel sorry for me in my baldness because I actually have cancer. People who shave their heads who don’t have cancer do not deserve the same level of pity-driven respect that I get when I tell people my hair loss is due to cancer! It’s one of the 2 perks! The other perk is that I’ve lost 15lbs. Of course I have to pretend to be sad about that too. And everyone has to pretend that it’s bad that I’ve lost weight and that I should gain it back. Only my bitchy roommate was honest enough to say, “God, I’m jealous you’ve lost so much weight.” Of course I look better! America is obese--most people look better down 15lbs. Even people who are a normal weight. Skinny is hot. But it’s OK, I know why you can’t tell me I look great and why I can’t tell you that I’m happy about getting skinnier.

**Note: when I shaved my head, so did my friend Richard. And I really appreciated that I got to wield the clippers and someone else was shaving their head, but Richard is a man with short hair who looked very attractive with a shaved head. So I definitely appreciated the company, but no one ever tried to equate our experiences.

Anger is the word of the week. I’m pissed. I’m pissed about having cancer. I’m pissed about other awesome people having cancer. I'm pissed my counts were too low to start chemo tonight so I have to wait, WAIT another fucking week to get this over with.

When Kelly was here we talked about how this is really just kind of a shit time. That even folks without cancer were having a pretty hard time making decisions. It’s this damn awkward mid-20s. I actually was discussing this with my shrink as well. I was doing some questioning, soul-searching, self-absorbed mulling BEFORE I got cancer. Then I got sick and it was like I kind of got a little break from making stressful, grown up decisions. I know, I’m lucky, right?

Speaking of Kelly, she and Jade were here this weekend and it was awesome. We just hung out, Tripod-style. We went and saw Mama Mia which is a good girlfriend movie. A really good one. The one thing the three of us lack is a cheer. So Kelly is working on that.

Also awesome: The Departed, my friend Sara Gribs, yoga, high school students, and both the potential roommates we interviewed.

Self Portrait: What remains after radiation

The sun is gone

Suddenly I find myself busy at work--with less time for blogging! Until I have anything interesting to say, here is a picture of me wearing my radiation mask. I can't decide if I should be a Buddhist Monk for Halloween or just wear this:

Challah!

It's like I tell my parents, "when you don't hear from me it means things are cool and I'm just really busy and occupied trying to be normal." Not that blogging isn't normal or that I don't love the blogosphere or that I didn't write stupid things here incessantly before I got sick. Bah.

Things are mostly good. I'm a little sick to my stomach/dehydrated from the 6MP, but other than that... I've been trying to be "active." This means I've been riding my bike on the trainer, walking to work/radiation/home again, and yesterday Christina and I took an erie (but pleasant) walk around Seward Park. The thing is, I have these really powerful memories of running around Seward Park right before diagnosis and saying to Christina, "I just need some answers about what to do for the next few years..." And other memories of walking around SP with my parents right before I went into the hospital for the first time. And another memory of not being able to walk further than the first little dock with my mom when I got really sick. Somehow I'm not capturing all the millions of runs I went on there with M-Rachel or all the millions of runs I went on by myself or the triumphant memories of getting up to two laps without stopping, etc etc. Blah blah. I love Seward Park, OK?

Here is something fun. The radiologist (in defense of radiation no doubt) told me that if hair never grew back where LB was, it was because the tumor (not the radiation) had damaged the hair follicles. So the other day, I'm checkin out my cute bald head and notice LB is darker than the rest of my scalp. Upon closer examination, it's because the most dense hair regrowth is where LB is! I have this habit of rubbing LB that started long ago. For a while it was painful, and then it was kind of gross feelings, but now when I stroke the remains of my tumor, there are all these soft little baby hairs. TMI? I don't care! You're reading it!

In the last few weeks I've had a 180 on my baldness. Of course I still miss my hair and the identity that went along with it, but most days I look in the mirror and think, "you're pretty cute!" Some other awesome things about not having hair are: not washing hair, not struggling in vain to make hair look cute, not buying hair products to straighten/defrizz/curl/condition/wash hair. And of course there's my on-going fascination with androgyny...

Which leads me to the general topic of how I feel about myself in relation to sex and all that. When y0u have a giant tube coming out of your chest it's really hard to imagine having sex with anyone. I also realize that my lack of hair sort of kills the fantasy as well. Isn't that strange? I never realized how much my hair played into my thoughts of my own sexuality until it was gone. Thankfully (I guess) the initial anxiety of having cancer coupled with these crazy powerful drugs sort of shut all of that off for a while. What I find is that as my anxiety goes away (goodbye, Ambian! For now...) and my hormones say, "fuck you, chemo drugs!" I need to reconcile how to hold on to my sexuality and still be bald, tube-ridden, etc.

Well, I'd say that's enough for now. It's Sunday! It's sunny! Have a great day!

Everything looks better in the morning

Shout out to Mike H, my radiologist friend, for some sound advice regarding talking to Dr. K and Dr. M (my radiologist) tomorrow. My mom is also on her way up to go to my appointments with me.

I spent the day recruiting at public high school. Always and interesting experience. On my lunch break I went to Nordstrom and dropped cash on new jeans. Yes, it made me feel better. No, Nordstrom does not have any cute shoes right now. They do have lots and lots of really hideous high healed/shoe laced shoes. Gross. And no, I did not buy the Hobo wallet I have wanted for the last 3 years even though they had it in chartreuse patent leather. I do have some self control...

Great News: my employer approved an extra 4 weeks of donated vacation time today. Barring any more 6MP-like fiascoes this should see me through to 2009. I might have hair by 2009!

Speaking of my hair, about 1 in every hairs is bravely trying to grow--they are about a centimeter and so sparse that you can't see them unless you get really close to me. They're so cute!

For Kathryn

My digital camera is out of batteries, but luckily I remembered that I have the super high quality "Photobooth" on my new Mac.

Mr. Clean:
Wigged:

Today is Liz's birthday

So I've been off all chemo drugs for several weeks now while my body recovers from the March hiccup and let me tell you, it's been great. You know what sucks? Chemotherapy! Lame! I am kind of bummed that starting next week we strike back on our year and 10 months of regular toxic drugs. Boo.

But. This little break has given me a chance to return with gusto to "normal" life. For instance, I put in a real 40 hour week at work! And I have a work-plan. And my boss was really nice when I sort of manically showed up and demanded to be put in charge of all of my programs and swore I would never be sick again... I work with nice people who are patient through my sick-times and my obnoxious-times. Here is something I realized about work: I am the second most senior member on my team of programs due to extreme turnover! Shit! I should use that as leverage somehow...

So back to how I lead a normal life. On Friday night, I went to see the Avett Brothers at Neumos with my roommates. I saw them in September at Bumbershoot and loved them so much I bought two CDs. Since then, they've been on constant rotation on the kitchen stereo and at work between me and JK's offices. Seeing them in a venue like Neumos as opposed to a Bumbershoot lawn was so incredible. They are great. They are amazing. I love them. I would marry any of them. Right now. Or make out with any of them. Right now. Maybe it's the lack of drugs suppressing all of my hormones or maybe it's the raw sexiness of the Avett Bros but I am more interested in boys then I have been in about 2 months.

Fittingly, I went to a PARTY last night with Julian and Lena and even though I was the designated driver and even though I sat at the breakfast nook for the entire length of the party entertaining various guests, it was really fun to be out. "But Jessie, don't you feel like a freak among your peers what with your missing hair and Hickman?" Yes, yes I do. I rocked the Avett Brothers bald (concerts=hot, bald=better airflow) which was kind of made me self conscious, but yesterday I got my WIG and so I attended this party of my peers NOT BALD. All I'm saying is that I exchanged phone numbers with someone. Alright, it was like that, but still. I didn't look cancer-y.

Today I'm thinking maybe I'll go back to bed with some new books. I finished the 2nd Golden Compass book but our local bookstore didn't have the 3rd. I have a gift cert to Borders, but yuck.

Sleep-good, pee cup engineering-bad

Don't these guys have GREAT HAIR? Maybe I should get my wig styled like them?

I'm in the H again, just had my first spinal tap, and am now being dripped toxic, reproductive system murdering drugs.

Today I took a 3 hour nap before coming in and it really changes how I feel about life--in a good way. I need to remember that. I need to remember that when I feel like death and depression and pain that sleeping is pretty much always the cure. I also need a little cot for my office so I can start taking little naps AT work.

I just started my Adivan drip so I'm not long for this world, but I wanted to say hi!

Also to tell you the latest amusing H story. After my tap they made me lie flat on my back for 4 hours to help my body recalibrate sans 8ccs of spinal fluid. I had pho for dinner. You do the math. That means peeing lying down which is something I haven't done since that one night that I peed on Sarah when I was 20 when we were passed out. Sorry, Sarah. I feel like I've now publicly acknowledged I was the pee-er. That's a story for another time... Anyhoo, the whole experience was bound to end in disaster the minute I saw the woefully inadequate little cup they had in mind. So my pants and panties are around my angles, my new shave job exposed... and nothing. Shy bladder. For 10 minutes. It wanted it to come so bad. And finally victory... all over the bed and me and my nice nurse. But, much like childbirth apparently removes any sense of modesty so too has cancer. People touch me and look at me and put me in funny clothes and today I peed the bed and someone else had to clean it up and I can't say I was even that embarrassed. It was just bad engineering.

Project: Wig

First you get MEASURED (22--"very normal")
Pick a cap style ("yes, very normal ears... this should be fine...")
Then you pick a color (L-2 Brown)

***SPECULATION: Then somewhere in the process a disadvantaged woman in a 3rd world exploitative situation is forced to sheer her gorgeous locks in order to support her 6 children***

Then the wig comes all basic-like and my Wig Maker styles and cuts it around my face. I think the whole thing should look and feel pretty good. More than anything I was appreciative of how kind and normal the folks at Apollo Hair Systems in Northgate were. While I was there I picked something up off the shelf to wear in the meantime. It's not a look I've ever rocked... but... HAIR! I'd post pictures but my Pred-face hasn't gone down yet (and Someone I Work With mentioned it--bursting the lie-bubble everyone has been keeping me in)... and I can't imagine why I still cling to any form of vanity at this point seeing as how many people have seen me in so many compromising ways lately... but, it's about getting there.

But, I don't want you to be dissapointed so I'm humiliating someone else! Here are security guards at Northgate riding Segway PTs.

Love doesn't have to be a lie

I'm feeling a little Tragic tonight. I know it's my body crashing off its daily fix of Pred/crack. I think it did a lot to obscure some of my Chemo side effects so today was a little rough. Physically it was a low-point since my second day in the hospital.

Here are some weird side effects:
My fingers keep going numb
My mouth tastes like I burned all of my taste buds
I have the most insane gas
I am SO TIRED

I think the burly lentils I made yesterday morning might have a little to do with the intestinal distress...

I have visitors! Nathan and Leslie are visiting from Manhattan and Eugene respectively. It is so nice to see them and you would think I get tired of talking about me and my Cancer, but nope! So far it really helps to process where I am with people I care about and trust--so that is good! We ate! I still think about food pretty much ALL the time so let me tell you about the amazing food I had today!
--Veggie Pho! from Pho Hei Yen
--Grilled Cheese Sandwich from Geraldine's
Due to whatever whatever, pho and cheese sandwiches both make me feel a lot better when my stomach is killing me. Weird, huh? Even weirder: my landlord was at BOTH places at BOTH lunch and dinner. Since I have cancer I can be rude and ignore people though!

Yesterday I got my head shaved for reals by a barber on Beacon Hill. I'd like to give a special shout out to Abraham and Kicks and Cuts for the complimentary buzz. Not only did he not charge me, he made me feel really good and normal about being a chubby white girl in a barber shop on Beacon Hill to get my head shaved because I have cancer. The whole scene was kind of bizarre which is what I suppose I was going for... but anyway, it was OK. As for the look--not so hot. I HATE being bald. Now I know. Tomorrow I am going to look for a wig. While I was sitting there a woman randomly popped her head in to ask about something and looked at me and was like "I'm a 2-time breast cancer survivor! You're beautiful! You can do it!" Life has been kind to me like that a lot lately.

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.

It came to me in a dream

I think I look kind of like Billy Zane, but with boobs. Also. I got up at 5 this morning and made my Collard Greens and Red Lentil Souffle. It's still in the oven, but I think it's going to be bomb. It has both dairy and eggs: that's how I know it's going to taste good. Also, while taking my morning crack, I noticed there are only 6 days of pills left! I will miss you twilight cooking experiments!