This is the story of my morning’s happy dance…or this morning’s port flush. I’ve been posting on Instagram using the hashtag: #OurDecemberMornings started by Corinne Cunningham.
I was thinking of posting a picture of the cancer center waiting area but when I got out, I saw this tree and the “Home of the Brave” sign and yep, it is definitely “Home of the Brave”.
I am so grateful for the nurses and doctors and technicians and receptionists and custodian staff of the University Of Maryland who have been giving even more than before.
For a while, due to the pandemic, cancer patients couldn’t have anyone with them in the cancer center. And that meant, people just starting treatment didn’t have their support system physically with them. And I can’t imagine how much harder it must have been to enter that center or the transplant unit and not knowing what to expect…alone. And the entire medical staff stepped up even more to be that support system for the patient, showing up in so many ways.
So yep, definitely “Home of the Brave.”
This morning, I got my port flushed. My port needs to be flushed every six weeks or so, since I’m out of treatment.
I love my port. It feels weird to say that because the only reason I have a port is because I needed it for treatment. I’ve had my port now for almost 3 years. I started chemo without one. One day, it took hours (in another cancer center) to find a vein after the first one collapsed because the first chemo drug was administered too quickly. I still had three chemo drugs to go that day. This was a hard day.
The day after I got my port (in January 2018), I started treatment at the Greenebaum Cancer Center. And this little port has saved me hours of anxiety and pain and tears.
So, every single time I see the blood return and the port flush working, I do a happy dance. Literally. I do a little dance in the chair.
And I did my happy dance this morning.
Crossing my fingers you do a happy dance this morning too. For whatever reason.
First of all, I hope you’re all doing well and keeping safe. As you may have seen, I’ve been raising money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. And thank you so so so very much to everyone who has already donated.
Both The Chemical Engineer and our friend, Sam, joined our team. We’re very close to reaching our team goal of $1000 (anything above would be amazing, of course), but Alex hasn’t reached his goal of $200 yet. And that’s where this post comes in.
$300 helps fund one week of LLS-sponsored group support for families dealing with blood cancer treatment.
$500 helps defray the costs of treatment-related travel for a patient.
$1,000 helps fund general lab supplies for seven weeks to help LLS-funded researchers conduct laboratory work needed to develop blood cancer treatments.
$6,000 funds the work of an LLS-funded research fellow for six weeks.
$10,000 allows a donor direct funding of one of nine disease-specific research portfolios.
Alex is quite busy these days. He’s always quite busy but even more so for the past few months, and he doesn’t have much extra time to fundraise. And this is where I and this post come in…(especially as I’ve already reached my goal. Thank you again to everyone who already donated!)
Yes, those are my feet and my Bombas‘ socks 🙂 A little motivation Wednesday mainly as a reminder to myself. But also as a way to ask you: what made you smile today? And full disclaimer: a lot of those thought-processes are easier for me because of years of therapy and a lot of work 😉 And it doesn’t mean I don’t have moments where I focus on the fact that this used to be much easier. Just putting that out there. A few days ago, I did a few relevés and elevés from first position. They were far from perfect. And I can’t stand on the balls of my feet for very long or all the way because I still experience neuropathy and cramping in my feet (and hands) in addition to needing to re-build (or build – ha) muscles. But as I did those exercises, I smiled. Because it felt like progress. Kind of like when you’re writing a sentence that stays with you or when you finally understand your character’s motivation or simply when you write a few words in-between busy times or hard times. I enjoyed this moment when it happened. I smiled like I said. I think I even laughed I was so happy. And I smile as I post it even if my feet and hands are currently cramping. I know I’ll do this exercise again today. And I am revising my first chapters feeling grateful. A reminder to keep going, to keep swimming, to keep writing.
It’s my book birthday. TRUST ME, TRUST ME NOT is my 8th book. And this book has been with me in some pretty difficult times and yet helped me move forward. And what better way to celebrate this book birthday than to hopefully raise some awareness and share my own experience to maybe help someone else.
Yesterday I shared my book release campaign. I’m donating $1 per purchase to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society for the entire month of September for #BloodCancerAwarenessMonth and my friend (and very talented author) Katy Upperman is matching those donations up to $100. And while I was writing I was thinking on how even though cancer doesn’t define me, it’s not like I can simply wish it away. I can enjoy the moments and be present and sometimes I wonder if I talk too much about it. But, you know what, even though it doesn’t define me, it’s part of my daily life. I see the scars. And I feel it in the neuropathy in my feet. I see it on the calendar as I start mobilization in about 10 days. I also do a lot of other things. And I can talk about a lot of other things. It’s a balance. And it’s important to me. It’s also important to me to share what I wrote in the author’s note of TRUST ME, TRUST ME NOT.
So, I thought that on my book birthday, I’ll share it with all of you.
So here we go….
All my books feel special
to me. But this one? Those characters who have become real in my imagination?
They feel extra special. Maybe because there is so much of me in them. Maybe
because they have helped me move forward. Maybe because I am so proud of this
belong to you now, but for a while they were only in my mind. I started writing
this book what feels like forever ago, even though it’s been maybe over a year or maybe two years. It’s kind of a blur.
I was diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma in October 2017. After months of feeling tired. After months of coughing. After months of backache.
started with shooting pain in my shoulder and arm after drinking a sip of
alcohol. It was so bad that I started taking Tylenol if I knew I was going to
have a glass. It was the holiday season. And I do enjoy a glass here and there
and really didn’t want to miss
drinking Champagne on New Year’s Eve.
I googled my symptoms as I do and I found that having pain while drinking
alcohol could be an early symptom of Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I thought I felt something underneath
my arm too, but it wasn’t always
there. My mind went on overdrive. And did I mention I have anxiety?
the pain wasn’t going away and my
upper back pain was actually intensifying, I went to my primary care physician
at the end of 2016. But he basically told me that he’d never heard of the pain with the alcohol symptom
for lymphoma, and that based on his physical evaluation he really didn’t think I should be too worried. He dismissed my
concerns and told me I should do physical therapy for my upper back because it
could very well be muscle weakness. And me having anxiety, I thought, Okay…my
heightened concerns stem from my over-imaginative mind, so I’ll do the physical
therapy and see. He also told me I could
do bloodwork but I figured if he was really worried and not just appeasing my
worries, he’d tell me otherwise. I
didn’t do my bloodwork (which could
have very well shown nothing at that stage because Hodgkin’s lymphoma is funny like that).
months of physical therapy. I changed physical therapists so that it was closer
to my work (I was teaching German at a wonderful community college then). None
of them asked me to undergo x-rays. I went back to my primary care physician
because of a lingering cough in August 2017. Unfortunately it was a different
one and she dismissed my concerns. She also didn’t notice I had lost weight. I hadn’t noticed either but it was summer and I was
wearing clothes that fit. I did have to buy new pairs of jeans but I figured it
was because I had been more active. After all, I was doing physical therapy.
cough continued. My back pain was keeping me up at night. I was feeling like
remember driving to work one day, coughing and yelling in my car that no matter
what was making me cough, I was going to be okay. I knew. Deep inside, I knew
there was more going on with this cough.
started jogging again which in retrospect and after finding out what was going
on in my body makes me wonder how I managed to run. Granted it wasn’t fast or long, but still…
decided to continue working out too. But one day, I felt dizzy while working
out. I blamed it on not drinking enough water.
teaching two classes and writing and doing a thousand things as always. But one
day, I felt dizzy teaching, which I blamed on maybe not eating enough. I
started eating more snacks despite the fact that I wasn’t hungry. I continued working and writing and
telling myself it was okay. Because I went to see my doctor.
I had an
itch and a rash during that time too, but I also have sensitive skin so what
are the chances?
found a lump above my chest in early fall of 2017. And then I went back to see
my primary care physician and everything went very fast after that.
time I got diagnosed I had a very large mass in my chest, which was now
basically poking out of my chest wall, hence the lump. It was such a large mass
that the thoracic surgeon who did my biopsy told me I shouldn’t sleep laying down because the mass could be a
risk to my trachea. That was scary. I remember sitting with my husband on our
bed and we were crossing our fingers that the surgeon would call me back to let
me know the biopsy showed Hodgkin’s
and not some other cancer which had way less of a good prognosis.
laughed and reassured my family when I got the diagnosis. Because we got the
news we wanted. But still it was hard. And it got even harder.
was a time we weren’t quite sure if I’d still be alive today. And I am. And I am
I’m still in treatment today. Hodgkin’s is a very treatable cancer but sometimes it takes
longer when you’re not in the majority
of patients who are cured with first-line treatment. I didn’t talk about cancer much online at first and I didn’t tell many people, because I thought I was going
to be part of the large percentage of patients that go into remission after
their first-line treatment.
I had experiences which plainly sucked. I could probably write a book about fighting
for your rights, fighting to be heard, fighting for your care as a cancer
remember telling one of my oncologists that I was worried about getting a PICC
line (peripherally inserted central catheter which is a form of intravenous
access) because the mass was narrowing my SVC (superior vena cava), and that
oncologist dismissed me. I asked him twice. I asked the nurse who told me, “Well, if they say it’s possible, we should try.” My husband wasn’t in the room with me and it was painful and I was
scared and the nurse kept on hitting a snag and then my heart galloped and she
said, “I’m never doing this to you
again. If they want you to go through it again, they need to send you to
met with that oncologist again (who wasn’t my primary oncologist but higher up), he smiled,
raised his hand, and walked back out of the room. Like it was nothing. Like
that wasn’t traumatizing. I mean,
granted it was nothing like a bone marrow biopsy, but still…(that’s
another story). That same oncologist told me once the first chemo didn’t work as well as it usually does, “Now you’ve
become interesting.” Oh and I could
tell you so much more. Like how he dismissed a treatment that was not coming
from his “group” as inefficient and
yet our third opinion from MSK saw it as possibility because “studies have shown it works.”
longer my oncologist for these reasons and many others. We trusted the Fellow
we had, but that same oncologist who had dismissed my concerns kept on pushing
for one treatment plan, making it seem like it was our one and only option. We
weren’t so sure about their treatment
plan forward, and when we asked questions, we didn’t get many answers. It was a very hard time. I
couldn’t talk without getting out of
breath. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t walk without getting dizzy. And I was scared of
going through that treatment plan still feeling the way I did. Both the
oncologist we saw at MSK and the one we saw at the University of Maryland
Greenebaum Cancer Center gave us hope again.
is so important.
going to go into details because this is a note from me to you, not another
book ☺ Just like I’m not going to go into details on the ER visits,
and the neuropathy and dealing with health insurance and billing and all that.
treated at the Greenebaum Cancer Center and I’m very grateful to my team there. As I’m writing this, the plan is for me to go through an
autologous stem-cell transplant and yes, I’m very scared about the entire process, but I have
a wonderful team and I advocate for myself and I’m heard and I feel in control of the things I can
be in control of and I learn to deal with the things I can’t necessarily control.
As a cancer patient, I’m so grateful to the Greenebaum Cancer Center for truly being an comprehensive cancer center. My sessions with Vicky Wilson have helped me tremendously. I’m less anxious, less stressed. I know that it’s okay to not always be okay. And I owe it to her.
after switching chemo, I found a way to create different moments, like organize
a fundraiser for associations who help young adult facing cancer. And one of my
highlights? Jenna Fisher (who I loved in The Office but would watch in pretty much anything) not only
donated but she also tweeted at me ☺
get me wrong, there were a lot of hard moments, but there were also a lot, a
lot of good ones throughout treatment. And therapy helps!
I’m very grateful to my oncologist, Dr. Aaron Rapoport, for letting me be a part of the team and especially for giving us hope—and for never making me feel like I didn’t matter. To the nurses (especially Liz and Meeghan and the infusion nurses) and Megan (from the Ulman Fund) and Nancy (Survivorship Navigator) who always manage to put a smile on my face and who also sometimes just let me cry when I need to cry.
I may be
tearing up writing this author’s note.
don’t know what to do for someone who’s close to you, who is going through treatment, is
in remission or might have relapsed, or got diagnosed recently, sometimes you
just need to be there. Organize a meal train (thank you to the Chemical
Engineer’s boss for starting one for
us and for his colleagues for keeping us fed during the months of chemo
treatment). Send a card. Mow their lawn. Text them. Call them. Connect with them.
Even if they’re far away. Don’t forget them. And it’s okay to talk about something else. And it’s okay to ask about it. Everyone reacts
differently. And not everyone has the same experience with chemo and treatment.
But I think not feeling like you’re left
behind is important. And when you’re
going through treatment, you may be too tired or too sick or too vulnerable to
be the one keeping that connection. So, reaching out without always expecting
an answer really helps.
Sometimes this cancer treatment thing takes a
long time, and it’s important to not
lose that connection.
you’re reading this author’s note, I urge you to advocate for yourself, to not
let your anxiety (if you’re prone to
it) be used as an excuse as to why you are feeling strange or sick. Sure, it
can be related to anxiety but you do need to be checked out.
to be listened to.
to have your medical team take your concerns seriously.
some days, I do wonder if maybe the first-line treatment would have worked if
we had caught it before the mass went through my chest wall. And I’ll never be sure so I don’t dwell on it. But still…it’s important that your worries do not get dismissed.
If you are
suffering from anxiety or depression, then my wish for you is to be able to
also find a professional who can help you get through the tough moments and who
can give you the tools you need.
know what else? Enjoy the little moments.
those little moments too, because sometimes you have to readjust. But those
moments, you can still find them. A ray of sunshine. A laugh. A good book. A
Those moments? They truly are the big ones ☺
I probably should add the “Buy links” here but you can find all those in my release campaign post here.
If you’ve read that far, you can also share that release month campaign by retweeting Katy 🙂
or retweeting Katy,
Or sharing this post…
But mainly, what you can really do is spread awareness and advocate for yourself and others if you can and enjoy the little moments.
And yes, it’s somewhat related to my books. For some reason, I’ve been thinking about mental health and how therapy has helped me and I just posted my random thoughts on Twitter.
So I thought, I’d share them here too. Because…why not?
Deep breath, here we go.
I ‘m not sure who needs to hear this, but I’ve been thinking about mental health and that I should share my own experience. I was in therapy for 2 years in Germany. I have high-functioning anxiety and needed to deal with a few things on top of that anxiety and/or resulting from that anxiety. I was working full-time, and was gaining more and more responsibility at work. I loved my high-stress job (for the most part), and I was good at it (at least I want to believe so).
One of the reasons I was able to do that much was thanks to therapy. My therapist used Cognitive behavioral techniques.
She gave me the tools I needed. And it wasn’t immediate. And it was a lot of hours. I used to go once a week during my lunch break. Then once every 2 weeks, then once a month. I started because The Chemical Engineer very rightly told me that he couldn’t be my therapist.
I had tried it in the US too while finishing my first Master’s but it didn’t click. And I didn’t look for someone else. I probably should have tried to find a professional then, but I waited a few more years to really invest the time in myself.
Fast-forward four years and I’m back in therapy to deal with all those emotions and fears that come with cancer. I didn’t get therapy in my first cancer center and it’s a pity they didn’t offer it, because I was retreating and didn’t know how to deal with it.
When I started seeing my therapist in January 2018, I was a mess. And she has helped me so so so much. She listens to me and gives me the tools I need to deal with all of that.
The Chemical Engineer even went to a few sessions and it has made such a difference in the way we communicate through this. Therapy has made a big difference in my life. And yet, there still seems to be a stigma attached to it.
Maybe that’s why a lot of the characters in my books go through therapy. It’s not magic. It doesn’t happen overnight. And it can take time to find the right person. But I believe it does help. And if you need it, I really hope you’re able to receive it and seek that help ❤
And here’s a picture of Plato The Dog because that picture always manages to me smile.
Sometimes, you just need to enjoy a piece of cake (or whatever is your equivalent of a piece of cake).
Yesterday when I had that piece of cake it made me smile. Granted the company was also pretty good. Yesterday I cried (I didn’t take a picture of my crying face so cake picture it is not 😋). Yesterday, I was full of hope and my hope kind of got crushed a little. But hope is pretty resilient.
Yesterday I had a PET scan which was kind of mixed. On one side, it showed that the mediastinal lymph node I had before reduced in size & in SUV (activity level), which is wonderful news. On the other side, there are new areas of concern. I haven’t seen the full report yet but based on the discussion with my oncologist, it could actually be inflammation due to the immunotherapy.
I’m currently slated to have two more treatments & then undergo an autologous stem cell transplant (with my own stem cells). This has proven curative in Hodgkin’s. It’s better to have a so-called negative PET scan before undergoing said stem-cell, so I want to get another PET before the actual transplant. I might have to fight my insurance for it (again). I’m grateful cancer is no longer a pre-existing condition, because it would have the potential to make everything harder & honestly, I don’t need that.
Immunotherapy is pretty novel before transplant. It has shown to enhance chemo-sensitivity so crossing my fingers that this sequence helps me. I have to talk to my oncologist (again). I’m very thankful to feel like an integral part of the team. My oncologist listens & listens & listens.
I feel well. I’ve recorded several audiobooks. I work out. I got used to the neuropathy in my feet. I’m writing again and my goal is to ensure my next novel TRUST ME, TRUST ME NOT comes out as planned beginning of September (up for pre-order https://amzn.to/2SICKrf 😊)
Yesterday was a whirlwind of emotions. Today I feel better & calmer & happier.
Right now, I’m concentrating on this one step, making sure I’m in the best shape I can & in the best position possible. Right now, I’m thinking of the fun things ahead. Right now, I’m also enjoying the little things & the little moments.