eeeeeh?

My stomach feels terrible. I can't tell if I have swine flu or if chemo just makes me feel like butt some months.

In housing news, Mike, Maren and Krista are moving out at the end of the month. Ed is gone. Julian and I are going to turn the Mansion into a swinging bachelor/ette pad in their absence. I mean, there's a chance our landlords will find folks for the empty rooms, but there is also a chance that we will have the place to ourselves. Regardless, this is how things went down for whatever reasons:

-Jessie was invited to live at the Mansion through the end of July
-Julian was invited to stay while he considered the new housemates and whether he would potentially sign a lease
-Maren was asked to consider the lease, would not, and was asked to leave
-Krista was just asked to leave.

You might wonder why I was granted amnesty from the whole process? I don't know why?

But to continue the good ju-ju I did spend over 3 hours cleaning the house yesterday to make it as show-able as possible for the landlords. They have completely taken over the roommate-finding process and my only responsibility now is to keep the house looking spiffy. Not only CAN I do that, I WANT to do that! So they are going to asemble the group house of their dreams and I am going to live here and keep things clean and tell people good things about the house and hood when they come by to check things out.

I will miss Maren, Krista and Mike... a lot. But I only have 3 months left here and I just can't bear to move twice. Drama, folks.

Feel the fury

What’s the good word?

It’s been a long 10 days since the Un Hick My Heart Party. Such a large surge of love, celebration, and fun is bound to be followed by a lull. The quiet has been filled with a lot of questions: where do I belong, what do I want, what am I doing, what’s the point, etc. It’s your typical mid twenties whiny bullshit, no worries.

A highlight from the last week would definitely be attending a corporate party with Julian. His company finally got FDA approval for their product and so they celebrated with a cush party at the EMP: cocktail attire, free food, drinks, and FREE CAB VOUCHERS. Is that not the classiest fucking thing you’ve heard of? To make things better, they hired a band that played exclusively 70s/disco/rock covers. Their name (I shit you not) was HIT EXPLOSION. It was awesome.

This was a working weekend which means today was the beginning of my “weekend.” Work feels overwhelming right now—like I’m on the cusp of not doing my job. But I always felt like that when I was going at full tilt. Anyway, I don’t know how to take time off, sleep, clean my room, go to yoga AND do all my work.

What else? I dropped some serious cash at the Nordstrom Half Yearly Sale. I was out of control with the sweaters. One is this BCBG cowl neck that is that kind of thing I would call fabulous and feel fabulous in, but most men would ask, “why do women wear ugly shit like that?” I don’t care. Fabulous.

Right now I’m listening to Ben Folds and drafting letters of resignation that I will not submit. One of my co-workers commissioned a flow chart that is just a list of who everyone’s boss is and then sent it to our entire organization. It’s so fucking stupid. And self-aggrandizing. And inaccurate! The pretense was that this will help everyone know what everyone else does. But all it does is list titles (a big deal at this org, ) supervisors (it’s really important to emphasize the many layers of middle management between people who do work and our CEO), and help you visualize who is at the Top and who is at the Bottom. I also drafted some really severe emails to my co-worker that copied our supervisors, but have decided to wait 24 hours before taking action. I don’t know if I can let this go this week?

I am angry. Someone is going to feel my rage. It might be my co-worker, it might be an unwitting friend, it might be one of my roommates, it might just be a nightly news anchor, it might be another driver, it might the next waiter who is rude to me, it might be the next student who flakes out on something they said they would do. I’m a little scared. I don’t want to rage, but I can feel it burbling.

More from the Pro-Choice Prom

Awkward Prom Pose

Me doing yoga after Elisa started talking about how flexible she was... check my shit out!

CL looking so fine.
Rachel in my sunglasses and the necklace I wore to my high school prom.

AC putting my boobs to shame--and in my own dress and sunglasses! Hot damn.

So let me tell you about prom. It was the Planned Parenthood Pro-choice Prom: "Choose a better dress, choose a better date, choose to have a choice." 21+

CL and Elisa hosted the pre-party. I made asparagus polenta with ricotta cheese. It was awesome. Julian was my escort for all intents and purposes. I wore my favorite black dress. It's true: Even bald, I looked better, I had a date I liked better and if I were to get pregnant (hahahahhahahahahaha) I could choose to get an abortion. Yeah!

Prom was at Garfield Community Center and they had a live band playing AWESOME 80s dance music. I danced up a storm. My performance below is really just a warm up. I mean, I boogied. Hard. For hours.

When Julian and I got home from prom we congratulated ourselves on being so young and fun and going out TWO NIGHT IN A ROW (Friday we biked to Neumos for some Inde-Folk-Country-Rock) and I was feeling really... cool? Anyway, I looked at the clock and it was only 11:45! So we were almost cool.

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!

"Fun Run"

Today Krista, Julian and Lissa ran a half marathon for Muscular Dystrophy. I said I would go and cheer as they crossed the finish line. Then I said I would drive with them in case they wanted to get drunk afterward and needed a DD. Then I realized that I would have to wait around for 2+ hours waiting for them. So I signed up for the 4 mile "Fun Run/Walk" figuring that I could definitely walk 4 miles. Well guess what? I CAN RUN 4 MILES. Heck yeah. I ran all 4 miles. Or jogged all 4 miles. I was so proud of my body! Fuck you, chemo meds! Rock on, blood cells.


Julian, rocking the official Team NoBea headband. You can't see it, but this homemade headband says "Team NoBea."

Breakfast of champions. Champions battle neuropathy with Glutamine.

Team NoBea: Me, Krista, Lissa, Julian. I did 4 miles in about 50 minutes, they did 13.1 miles in 2 hours 10 minutes! They credit me with pacing them the first mile and half. Haha. But let's pretend. If you ever want an 11 minute mile pacer, I naturally run an 11 minute mile...

The beat goes on

My white count this morning was 4.1—that’s a fully functional immune system! The likelihood of me ending up in the Onc ward this week is very small. My crit (reds) are a little low and I will say that is the reason I only biked up half of Beacon Hill before getting off and walking. Low hematocrit and Adriomyacin. I heard a rumor I won’t bother to research that Lance wouldn’t take Adrio because it diminishes your lung capacity. Right. I bet Maarten took the Adrio like man.

Also, I forgot to mention in all my despair of steroid withdrawal that I got to see Jenny and Richard last weekend and it was sooooooooooo great. They brought philosophical discussion back to the NoBe Mansion. After they left Julian, Beth, my mom, and I debated the merits of organized religion as a political force. Jenny and Richard, come back and enrich our intellectual lives! No one will let me wax on at such length as Richard! No one!!!!

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.

Let's get Physical!

There’s so much to tell you, dear internet! First of all, I love you. I love you in the complicated way that grown-ups love things.

What have I been up to? Well let’s see. Putting out little fires at work. We’re firemen, Kerry, that’s what we are. I know I should say “fire people” but Fireman is just kind of a sexy word. Speaking of sexy firemen that are women, yesterday was the Seattle Gay Pride Parade and you bet the female firemen marching in the parade were about the sexiest lesbians I’ve seen in a while. I mean, besides all the sexy lesbians that I actually know. Which is a lot of sexy lesbians. What do you want to bet happens when people google “sexy lesbian?” They’ll end up right here! This is not what I thought my post was going to be about…

Um. Moving on. Getting physical. Last weekend I went to a yoga class, but I promised Nathan I wouldn’t be one of those people who talked about yoga a lot. I’m going again tomorrow. I think it’s a better way to spend money than the co-pays at the physical therapist who just had me walk on a treadmill for 20 minutes.

On Saturday I went hiking up in Skykomish with Julian and Beth who are training to climb mountains. I was hesitant to bring my out of shape bones with them, but they found a trail that had a nice lake-y, stopping point mid-way so I didn't have to go as far as them. I brought nectarines and the Amber Spyglass to occupy me and spent a nice 3 hours sitting on the shore of a beautiful alpine lake, enjoying the quiet and the nature. It's my job (sort of) to have high standards when it comes to trail maintenance, but still, trail was a total disaster (spring storms) and we had to bushwhack and clamber in the first mile which was pretty exhausting. I only made it to the 2 mile mark which was the lovely Trout Lake when I decided it was Golden Compass time. I won’t pretend like the hike was burlier than it really was because Julian sometimes reads this and I don’t want him to think I’m a liar or an exaggerator (even though I’m guilty of the latter often enough,) but I was pretty tired after 2 miles. Mostly I felt extremely nauseated. The methotrexate gives me this very subtle baseline nausea that’s not so bad, but combined with “strenuous” hiking, it was kind of pushing it harder than I wanted to push. Bah! Damn you, cancer! I am impatient to be through with you and get my body back!

Yesterday I went to Pride with my friends. It was really fun. I will post pictures because I remembered my camera. And then I remembered to take pictures. Glory be.

What else can I tell you about my week, internet? It was all about work! That’s why I can’t say much… When I was in PGH the other week, I noticed my colleagues running around all crazy-like and I remembered how I had been like them last year. And I thought somewhat condescendingly that they really needed to chill out and have some cancer-perspective (cancerective?) about life… Anyway, it was just that I was in denial of how much work there is and I ran around all week like a crazy person and dreamt about work every night that I didn’t take a Xanex and Ambien combo. Today, I feel like I have time to breath for… the next 20 minutes. Then I’m going to see Dr. K. He was gone last week and I kind of missed him. I never go two weeks without seeing my Oncologist-boo, so it will be good to see him. I’m going to ask him about BRAC-1/2 gene today.

Oh and last Monday I got my period again. That’s 3 in a row, every 28 days. This means that I’ve only missed one since starting chemo which I think means my reproductive system is obviously all systems go. Luckily I got tons of condoms at Pride yesterday, so just in case I ever have sex again I will be prepared. Like that will happen!

My ovaries: ass kickers

I went to Portland for the weekend. I brought a camera full of new batteries and took approximately ZERO pictures. It was a classic and delightful time. Lots of time in Jade and Jesse's living room. Lots of eating. Lots of love from lots of great people. In this story of trying to break up with Portland but still be good friends, I think I'm there. PDX and I know we're not right for each other and I can see her flaws and remember why we're not together every time we hang out but not resent her for them. I love that we can be best friends again.

Now I'm back with my new boyfriend, Seattle and I missed him.

I started a new chemo cycle yesterday: 6MP, radiation, and spinal methotrexate. The spinal tap went a little rough--it took many attempts to get to spinal fluid. As a result, my lower back is pretty sore. Radiation is not much to write home about yet. It takes about 2 minutes and side effects (if I have any) won't appear for a while. So anyhoo, yesterday when I got home I was like, "damn, my lower back HURTS where someone was poking me with a huge needle... I should take Vicodin since I haven't even looked at it in about 2 months." I went to my closet to discover that someone has been regularly hitting my hydrocodon. Hmmm. Then I checked my Xanex. Also severely depleted. I'm pretty 100% sure I know which of my roommates has been taking my meds and it's like, "shit." What am I supposed to do? This same person owes me $215 in back utilities. But who steals meds from someone who has cancer AND is their friend AND is their roommate? That is just so fucked up.

Here is the truly awesome news of this post: I got my period again! Even after the 6MP overdose (and 6MP is a fertility killer) my body, my ovaries are still fighting. Since not being able to have kids is one of my greatest fears, and it's pretty rare to menstruate mid-treatment I am feeling really positive about what this all means. March left me a little shaken--our bodies are breakable (we need blood cells) and fragile and it sort of undermined my confidence in my physical body to take everything in stride, but this has definitely restored much of my confidence.

Final Assessment of Life This Week: Totally Awesome

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.

Everything: Alright

Well, I don't know what everyone was talking about with this whole Depression and More Drugs thing because since being home I feel about 80 million times better. On Friday night I had dinner with my roommates and stayed up until 10 pm being social. Yesterday I ran around cleaning, doing errands, doing some work stuff (the kind where I see my favorite high school students and get lots of hugs and it doesn't feel like work) and my dad's been in town...

Today my dad hung all my paintings and pictures in my room. Moving rooms was really beyond me which is why it's so great the the Pereirras and Q Crew did all my moving, my mom painted my room... and today my dad finished the project by helping me decide how to hang all my framed pictures. And then he and 6'3"-ness did all the hammering and hanging.

I've had visitors pretty much every weekend since getting sick and of course this weekend was no different with dad and DP. Next weekend I have no visitors. It's going to be... great. I'm going to the Avett Brothers concert and getting a wig and maybe... spending time by myself? Mmm, I don't know, but here are some highlights from today:
*Julian cleaned our bathroom AND swept the upstairs hall/back stairs!
*I finished the first Golden Compass book (thanks Lizzy for knowing how to cure my boredom)
*My dad is a great dad and his partner is a great step-parent-figure!
*I am about to go to a fun potluck to see lots of fun people!
*I get to go to work tomorrow!

Warning: Marathon of Cancer and non Cancer Thoughts

Friday afternoon EDWARD accepted our invitation to live in the Mansion! Hooray! We have a roommate! He seems great! The search is over!

On Friday night my mom came back in to town and thank God. When Rachel moved into the Mother-in-Law she left her room its hideous shade of beige, but first randomly painted some streaks of olive and sage green on various walls. Thanks, Rachel. I was pretty depressed about this, but I wanted the walk-in closet so much that it seemed worth it to move into the badly painted room and just deal with it… later. But my mom is almost as manic as I am (even without the Prednisone) and on Friday night she made a trip to Lowe’s for primer and paint. In less than 16 hours she primed my room and painted both the ceiling and the walls. It looks so beautiful. Besides being a brilliant theologian she also happens to possess a gift for painting.
Please note all the things about my room that White People Like: Ikea Bookcase, Expensive Sheets from Garnet Hill, and One Nice Piece of Vintage (nightstand in corner was Christmas gift from dad…)

Saturday afternoon the Pereirras were in town so they swung by. Birch and Cliff moved all of my furniture down the hall and Chere and my mom made my bed for me. I just sat there letting myself be helped. Besides primroses and muscle Cliff and Chere brought me a nice lavender heating pillow and these great White Blood Cell Tiles for My Team. When you touch them, you’re supposed to think good things for my white blood cells. I love stuff like this. I also love Cliff and Chere. They stopped in PDX on the way up and handed them out to some of my PDX peeps, so I know the love is well spread down the I-5 corridor. If you want a tile, shoot me and email! Let’s not forget that Q-Crew was around for the whole moving fiasco and helped by being awesome friends. I made pizza for dinner and they stayed and we got to have lots of good conversation that didn’t revolve around me having cancer or anything Old like that. If I don’t say it every day to someone, I’ll say it here: Q-Crew is my rock.

Today I was feeling pretty cracked out on the Pred (2 more days, 2 more days…) and so I started making a list of errands that I should do while I still only feel the need to sleep for about 3 hours a day. One of my errands was a trip to Target to return the Trainer I bought (Julian has one). Of course you can only find Target in the most disgusting outlying areas of Seattle and of course it involves driving more than 10 minutes from my house, but my mom and I ventured to Renton. It was horrible. Target was horrible. The suburbs are horrible. Right now I can only be thinking of reasons I want to live and so therefore I try to avoid anything that makes me want to commit suicide like complexes of Target/Lowes/Frys/PetCo/Etc. The return was simple enough but after about 2 seconds of attempting to shop for other necessities I felt myself panicking and my mom and I booked it back to NoBea for some Pho. Pho is the answer to everything bad.

This afternoon the Need to Do returned and in the shower I decided, what the fuck? I’m going to shave all of my body hair. It’s falling out anyway! In chunks! Gross! I have never, ever shaved my pubic hair. Oh my god. I don’t think I’ve seen such a sight since I was… 13? I’m not into it. I look pre-pubescent. So let’s re-cap the beating my sexuality has taken in the last 3 weeks:
Shiny, naturally highlighted (if not difficult), woman head-hair: gone
Fantastic, constantly highlighted cleavage: suffering from an ugly white tube protruding
Pubic Region: regressed 12 years.

I don’t think I knew I was attached to any sense of my femininity or that I walked around knowing that at any moment some man might see me and think Ah HA! I want to hit that! But now I feel fairly certain that is NOT happening. And it sucks. I’m not saying that the shaved head isn’t cute or that I deserve it when people gawk at my Hickman at QFC, but… fuck.

Day 16

Today my chemo was 2 hours late and I almost lost it. I almost became a difficult patient. I was thisclose.

But! My white blood cells are on their way back up! Dr. K gave me a high 5 and said I was out of the woods for now. The bigger issue at hand is my GI tract and how it feels like SHIT. I won't go into details, but even though I'm hungry all the time, I'm beginning to feel like eating is a raw deal. Raw. Really raw.

Also, we're in deep looking for fucking housemates. I hate it. I hate looking for housemates. People keep blowing us off and it's so fucking stressful. "Becky" and "Edward" are coming tonight. Hopefully one of them is NOT creepy and can move in NOW. AHDFHSAFSHA!