Frequently asked questions: The next chapter

I think it’s time for another round of FAQ’s, don’t you? Here we go!

Your hair looks so good! Are you going to keep it short?

If I had a dollar for every person who has told me I should keep my hair this short… well, I wouldn’t be rich, but I could at least buy a nice sweater or something. I appreciate the compliments and everyone’s fascination with my hair growth process. However, I have no intention of keeping my current boy-cut. Having your hair fall out is totally traumatic. Having your hair grow back is totally awesome. I want it to keep growing. I have frequent dreams where my hair is suddenly long again. I look at old photos constantly and lament the loss of my long hair. So although this short “style” (if you can call it a style) is extremely low-maintenance, and perhaps one day I’ll go back to it… it’s still not me. It’s not my choice. And it still reminds me of cancer.

So everything’s good now, right? You feel good?

I never know how to answer this one. Yes, I feel pretty good, in comparison to how I felt when I couldn’t walk up a flight of stairs or raise my arms or sit up without assistance. It’s hard to complain about anything when I know what it really is to not feel well. But if you want to know the truth, I’m not just “fine” and “all better.” I still suffer from fatigue all the time. I often hit a wall in the late afternoon where I feel like I need to lie down and nap. I try not to plan more than one “exhausting activity” (such as grocery shopping) per day, because sometimes I can’t keep up. I have side effects from my drugs. Sporadic bone or joint pain. Headaches. Pelvic pain. Hot flashes. The constant drip of my nose. Tightness around my implant where I received radiation. Lots of little reminders, scattered here and there. So yes, I’m feeling pretty great, and thankful every day for my health. But it’s not perfect. And it probably won’t be for a long time.

You’re all done with treatment now, right?

Oh my gosh, you guys! Don’t you read this blog? I am totally NOT done with treatment. Every three weeks, I continue to check-in at chemo daycare and wait around 1-2 hours to begin my treatment. My port is then accessed with a needle and hooked up to an IV. It’s injected with saline, which leaves a gross taste in my mouth. Then I receive my medication for the next two hours. Then I go home and feel tired. I have been doing this for a year. And I am ALMOST done. In fact, Jan 31st should be my last trip into Chemoland, if you want to mark it in your calendars. That phase will be over, but I will still be taking my Tamoxifen each and every night and dealing with its thrilling and varied side effects (see above) for a looooong time. But it’s all a small price to pay for the chance to live, in my opinion.

Did you ever end up catching that mouse in your house?

No! The little guy is super sneaky and exceedingly intelligent. We have had a few sightings and have set up a variety of traps. Somehow, he is not falling for any of it. He knows what’s up. So for the time being, he is living with us. Really, he’s an ideal houseguest, as he mostly keeps to himself and stays out of sight and doesn’t ask for anything. But unfortunately, unlike with our other houseguests, our goal is still to murder him. Sorry, mouse. It’s a cruel world out there. As I have learned time and time again, sometimes life just ain’t fair.

Last week pre-treatment in the waiting room. The christmas tree was pink and adorned with cupcakes.
Last week pre-treatment in the waiting room. The christmas tree was pink and adorned with cupcakes and candy. Now that’s my kind of tree. Merry Christmas!

My fear of mice… and blogs

A mouse just ran across my kitchen floor while I was putting groceries away. I screamed “OHMYGAWWWWD NOOOOO!!!!” and ran down the hall shrieking and hyperventilating. There is almost nothing that gives me the heebie-jeebies more than mice. In fact, I’ve even had recurring dreams where I am being attacked by vicious mice. True story.

As I hid in my living room, with the door closed, I tried my usual mantra of calming myself down: You’ve had cancer. This isn’t so bad. It’s not cancer. It’s just a mouse. Nothing can scare you anymore.

As the kids these days say – EPIC FAIL.

As much as I try to employ this type of logic all the time now, it rarely ever works. As I have said before, I am still fundamentally the same person. Sure, I had cancer. But does this now mean I am not completely, irrationally petrified of a tiny little mouse? Have I been cured of all my pre-cancer phobias? Hellz no.

I just got a notification from WordPress congratulating me on blogging for one year. Happy anniversary, blog! What a pal you’ve been.

After I was diagnosed, I had thought of starting a blog where I could document what I was going through. But I put it off for a couple months. Not because I was afraid of exposing myself or revealing I had cancer. Not because I had nothing to write about. But because I was worried writing a blog would kill me.

I had been searching online for blogs written by young people with cancer, to find something I could relate to. But the more I searched and the more I read, the more it started to feel like everyone who wrote a blog about having cancer ended up dying. I can’t tell you how many blogs I found, particularly of young women with breast cancer, whose most recent entry was either about their cancer metasticizing, or an entry written by a loved one informing the readers that the writer of the blog had passed away. It seemed like for every one blog I could find where the person was alive and well, there were ten more where the opposite was true.

So I convinced myself that if I were to start a blog, I would be writing my own death sentence. That my blog would join the many other young adult cancer blogs, with a sudden, abrupt ending, letting down all those who stumbled upon it, looking for inspiration and hope, as I had with so many others. I felt like writing a blog, and having people read it, would somehow curse me, and set my fate in stone.

I’m not sure what changed, but eventually I realized this was a crazy way of thinking, and blogs do not have the power to kill you. At least I really, really hope they don’t.

Writing this blog has truly been a gift to me, connecting me with so many awesome and lovely people all over the world. It has given me a healthy dose of confidence, allowing me to feel both brave and vulnerable, and uninhibited in my self-expression. It has made me feel less alone and isolated during a very lonely time, being the dependable friend I so badly needed. It has forced me to confront some very deep and dark feelings. It has also turned me into some sort of writing machine, where I feel as though I can’t stop, and I won’t stop (to quote the very inspirational Miley Cyrus).

So, happy birthday dear blog, and thanks for all you have done. I will continue to update you and visit you as often as I can, as long as I have something to say. And you can return the favour by not killing me. And if it turns out you do possess some sort of mystical power to decide who lives and who dies, please choose the mouse. Thank you.

Sorry buddy, it's either me or you
Sorry buddy… it’s either me or you.