Another year

School’s started once again, and I’m proud to say I’m finally back full time, and busy as ever. Apparently life doesn’t stop for cancer, which isn’t really fair. Most of my friends… all of my friends… have graduated. I made a few new friends in Geology, and it’s nice to hang out with them between classes. Unfortunately, I’m at school on Tuesday and Thursdays from 8 am to 9 pm, with a few hours break in the middle of that mess. I’ve actually got to be at school by 7:45 this morning, and it’s 2 am now. I just can’t sleep (which is weird). I was hoping to get 8 hours of sleep tonight, but that’s not going to happen, obviously. I guess teaching at 8 am is going to force me to go to mineralogy every morning.

I also joined the kendo club on campus. There are 7 other new members, which is great! A girl named Devynn is usually paired with me, since we’re the same height. It’s easiest to spar with someone your own size. The work outs exhaust me, but it’s a good kind of exhaustion! I’m really enjoying myself so far.

On the cancer front, I still have maintenance chemo, and there’s no cancer so far. I’ve gained most of my weight back, which I hate the most. Of course, I was supposed to. I just didn’t want to. It’s not fair 😦

I’ll try to keep this updated more as the quarter goes on!

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Livestrong: Stigma and Silence

So, this isn’t the documentary I was supposed to be in. While in my face to face interview with Mat, I spoke about the stigma associated with cancer for a college student still struggling to go to classes. I talked about not having any hair, and being pointed at (and called a lesbian…). I also spoke about the difficulty of being a cancer patient when people don’t really know what to expect. A guy I had gone out with a few times refused to see me again because he was afraid he could catch it, even though we were just friends and no longer considering each other as potential dateable people. (I wanted to punch him in the face.)

Enjoy the documentary!

Remission… And what that means for me

I couldn’t sleep tonight (it’s all those damn hot flashes… Goes with the territory of having your womanhood destroyed by chemotherapy, I suppose). So, I’ve begun to think of what my recent remission means to me.

1) I’m still on drugs, to a point. Just because I’m in remission doesn’t mean I can just forget the fact that I’ve had cancer three times now. I have maintenance chemo, as well as drugs to take at home.
2) I wonder how long it’ll take me to regain my strength. I’m dying to go back to school full time, to go hiking and camping again, and to ride my bike! The littlest thing makes me tired right now. Maybe I should stick to yoga for a bit.
3) Will people understand that being in remission doesn’t mean i’m instantly well? That it could take me over a year to fully recover? (I wasn’t recovered when I got cancer this last time.)

Lots of things to think about. Also, I’m not thinking as quickly as I was before. And I get tired easily. And I still feel absolutely awful sometimes. What does that mean? My onc dangled the carrot of remission in front of my face for so long that I think I forced my body into it. My labs were looking better before, but there wasn’t the massive increase like there was this time. What if it doesn’t last? I don’t think I could handle all of this a fourth time.

I already feel like I’ve missed out on a lot of life’s opportunities. My friends are all graduating this year. I’ll still be at OSU, and I’ll probably get my PhD before my bachelors (at the rate i’m going). Also, I’ve missed almost 2 years of sorority functions. And now I’m Alumnae. Just like that. Poof – gone. That makes me sad. I wanted alumnae status in a way because I’m too old to be in a sorority, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it.

Stupid cancer ruined my college experience. F u, cancer. Life could be much worse, but I’m glad it isn’t.

Grrrrr

I’ve had two rounds of chemo now, since I had my relapse a month and a half ago (I’m on two days on, then 15-18 days off – it’s a weird schedule, actually… a bit different than the first time). I feel like shit, I’m nervously waiting for my hair to abandon my head, and I’m still trying to be a full time student and teacher at the same time.  It’s really, really hard.  Just this week, when I was in the chemo dungeon at the hospital (I call it the chemo dungeon, even if it is a nice room, because it feels like torture), I tried to get some homework done. One of the nurses came by to see how I was doing, and she commented on what class it was for.

“It’s Mineralogy, a class where I have to learn over 100 minerals by sight and chemical name, much like o-chem.”
“Oh, Honey, you won’t get through that class this year. You have cancer to worry about.”
“Fucking watch me, then!”

Yeah, I did say the f-word.  Usually I’m so nice to the nurses, especially since they’re super awesome. But, I’ve had mood swings, I’m still stuck in a weird limbo between being a functioning woman and menopausal at 25, and HORRIBLE hot flashes where I want to throw myself into the freezers at Safeway. I hate it when people tell me I can’t do something. It really, really pisses me off. Just the other night, I had a nightmare where people wouldn’t believe me when I said aliens were slowly taking over the world and brainwashing people (yeah, I have weird nightmares, okay?). And, believe me when I say it wasn’t the aliens that frightened me, oh no. It was the fact that people thought I was stupid. I’ve always had that fear, especially since I know I’m a weird person, and I say weird things (constantly). But… I’m smart, okay? Geeze. I’m a friggin card-carrying member of Mensa! I solve logic puzzles for fun! I mean, wtf is wrong with me? *shrugs* Ok, I got a bit off-topic.

I hate me my cancer. That’s what I was getting at. It makes me feel weak and separated from my friends. I don’t even see my sister all that often, or even hear from her, because we’ve both been sick lately. We’ve just not been able to connect. (She had her gallbladder removed a few weeks back, and even if the doctors insist on that being a week recovery, it’s not. They’re liars.) Couple that with our busy schedules… it’s amazing that I see her even once a month, even though we live in the same, small town.

The only people I see on a regular basis are my students, a few acquaintances in my classes, and my roommate. He takes care of me – my Caregiver, even though he hates the term – and insists “just anyone” would do what he does…even if we both know that’s not true.

Bleh, I feel gross. It’s a quarter after three in the morning, and I’ve yet to sleep tonight, even though I’m physically and mentally exhausted. My chemo keeps me awake, but I’m not allowed to take sleeping pills (something about thinning my blood… I dunno, I have a tendency to ignore my onc because I think he’s a dumbass and I frankly just don’t care). At least I don’t have crap to do on fridays, save for a geology lab from 4-5 pm, and my office hours from 5-6 (very poorly chosen, but hey, what can I do? I got the short straw.)

I DO want to say that I appreciate the Twisters on Twitter. They’re my little online family. I’ve never met any of them, but I can tell them anything, and they support me 120%. We’re all cancer survivors, and in 140 characters, spread love, hope, and wellness to each other. My town is too small to have a cancer support group for people my age, but with Twitter, I have access to hundreds of ‘survivors’, and it is better than any support group I can think of. So, *muah* to the Twisterhood! I love you all!

And with that, I’m either going to go to sleep, or play Scribblenauts on my DSi. Nighty night!

Relapse.

You know those days, when you just want to crawl back into bed but can’t because of “obligations”. When I heard I had a relapse a few weeks ago, I thought, “Hey, this’ll be cake. I’ve kicked cancer once, I can kick it twice.” I don’t know why it’s so hard this time. I mean, I don’t even feel that gross from the chemo… it’s nothing I can’t handle. Then why am I so upset?

Someone called me a Cancer Survivor the other day, at the hospital. I nearly punched the unsuspecting person in the face. I felt like I was being patronized, like an eight year old being taught how to read, but has known how to since she was three. Makes me think back to my “Voices of Survivors” written word that I wrote, but has sat in my inbox with edits for about a month. For those of you who don’t know the project that Lynn Lane is the creator and producer of, then shame! Voices of Survivors is a short documentary filmed by Lynn, and it’s from the mouths of actual cancer “survivors” defining what they think is a “survivor”. (This is why I’m using a copious amounts of quotes, because there isn’t one definition of survivor – it’s different for everyone.) There is also a section for written statements, ranging from 400-2000 words on the subject. Mine is a bit long, at 1600ish words, but it sure as hell gets my point across.

Anyways, back to the person. They didn’t know I was upset, but I did hold myself back from a verbal and physical abuse. I just smiled, said thank you for the kind words, and went off on my way. I thought that, by having a relapse during the school year, then more people would be involved and then I’d have some sort of “cancer experience” that I missed out on the first time. How stupid does that sound? I can’t believe I’m actually typing it, let alone thinking it. I talked about this in my Livestrong video, about feeling alone and physically being alone, and of how much it sucked. But now that more people know and are getting involved, I almost wish it was the summer again, and that people weren’t around at all. Apparently there is no pleasing me.

(Forgive me, I’m just kind of typing what I think, and I know it’s disjointed… welcome to the world of how I think.) Last night I was so upset that I couldn’t sleep for hours, and my roommate took pity on me and sat up with me for a bit. I feel like my faith is being ripped from me, like having cancer once wasn’t enough, so our vengeful God has given it to me again. I’m like a child who’s gotten in trouble twice for the same thing, but still doesn’t know what she’s done. It’s not fair! *stomps* Yes, it’s my own version of a digital temper-tantrum, but God DAMMIT I fucking deserve it this once, don’t I? I’m tired of being everyone’s dumping ground for their own problems. What about MY problems, people? Does cancer look easy to you, like I’m coasting the fuck through it, so hey, why not we tell Kristin all these problems we’re having because she has her shit together. Well, I don’t. I have no idea what I’m doing. In relation to my cancer, I do, simply because I’ve been here before, but for fuck’s sake, I do have my own problems I have to work through. I don’t give a flying fuck what your boyfriend said to you last week that made you feel fat and unloved. I’m dying. Let me have my pity party for once! Let me cry and break things and wail about how life isn’t fair, BECAUSE IT ISN’T. When you’ve got cancer too, please, come join my pity party and then unload on me with your problems, because at least then we’ll have something in common. But until then, GO AWAY. Take your stupid problems with you, and unload them on someone else.

/steps off tantrum box/

Apparently I really needed that. I mean, I had the tantrum in real life too, but I feel a bit better. /end pity party. I’m still not fixing your problems for you, so if you have one, run the other direction before I squeeze your brains out your nostrils. I fucking hate cancer. It has absolutely ruined my life. RUINED. I should have graduated by now, and have a fucking job, but nooooo, I’ve been put back TWO BLOODY YEARS in school, with no end in sight. I’m not made of money, Cancer. I have to still pay out of state tuition (that’s another rant for another day), plus my insurance company keeps denying claims and raising my rate. Now that I’ll be 26 in November, my rate goes up to the next level anyways (the 26-35 level or something), plus the special “Cancer Tax” that most health insurance companies add.

Fuck you, cancer. I so totally hate you. If you were a person, I’d swear you off as a mortal enemy, and I’d put out a hit on you. *growls*

Cancer…dammit.

Apparently I am a rather unlucky person. My onc told me after my PET scan that things were less than jolly, and that he wanted to start chemo again. He didn’t say I was no longer in remission, nor did he say the other ‘r’ word (relapse), but I think he didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

People tell me to take charge of my disease, to learn everything I can. Well, I didn’t last time I had it, so why should I this time around? I don’t give a flying f what kind of chemo I’m going to get, or what my schedule will be. I’ll show up and trust them to do the job they’re paid for. Of course, I will do the least amount of what is expected for me, as will my onc. He is NOT allowed to try and snipe the crap out of my cancer. If he gives me a lower amount of chemo or whatever for a longer time, I’d rather have that than be strapped to a hospital bed for a shorter amount of time.

I mean, we still haven’t come up with a schedule yet. Who knows. Maybe I can get a second opinion.

Fuck my life.

Guys, shut your ears!

This is a girl-problem oriented post, so guys, unless you want to read about womanly troubles, go to another page!

Ok, with that out of the way, I haven’t had my period in over a year. Chemotherapy cured me of the need, along with other normally-functioning processes. (end sarcasm.) I think tonight I started my period again, after I had lost hope of it ever coming back. I am desperate to have children – being Catholic and family-centered – so what was I supposed to think when I stopped menstruating all together?  I was absolutely heart broken.  My parents adopted me as an infant, and that has driven my need to have my own children; maybe because my mother could not. But tonight… I wasn’t totally sure, and I’m still not sure, but it’s looking good.

In a few months, between summer research and school in the fall, I was going to make an appointment to see if I was sterile. I don’t know what that would involve (probably an outpatient procedure with a scope), and I’m not at a time in my life where I could have kids, but being 25 and without hope is such a desolate place for one to be.

Close friends promised to pray for healing, for the ability for me to carry a child, and even though I know the idea of prayer is uncomfortable for some, it was a comfort to me knowing they cared.  I don’t know if my prayers, and the prayers of others, have been answered; it’s a long way off.  I could just be spotting (it is REALLY light), but the feeling is… familliar. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have cramps, to bleed, to feel six degrees of gross, but the feeling now is welcomed (believe it or not!).  So many friends said that I was lucky to be menopausal at my age; not having to deal with all the stresses, the fear of ‘accidental’ pregnancy (if I were having sex, then sure, but it does not apply).  I hated feeling broken, like a part of my womanhood had been snatched by the Chemo.  I already felt disgusting from the effects of the Cancer, and to top it off, I had this to worry about in the back of my mind.  “Oh, it’ll come back,” the oncs had said.  They were male – they didn’t understand the carnal need to reproduce, to carry their own children.

If it really is what I think it is, then this is a very exciting evening indeed. Tonight, I rejoin the female sex.