To The Moon!

Do you guys remember that the year I was diagnosed (2010) I was training for an Olympic Triathlon? Well, obviously that crumbled, but this winter I decided to use my good health to take a tour of not what could have been - but is about to be. I don't know if that makes sense, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm snatching up opportunities to challenge myself; to get back to living the life I was born to enjoy. That includes challenging myself physically like the mad runner that I always was.

One thing that I've learned about myself is that competing, although awesome, isn't as fun unless you don't take yourself too seriously. Wow, how is it that I can speak in double negatives, yet I can never, for the life of me, understand it when others do. (Or maybe that wasn't a double negative. The mystery is on). I digress. So, a year or so ago, someone stole my bike, the bike we would use for speed and comfort. But with friends like ours, it is of no surprise that my buddy Laura lent me her 6 speed beach cruiser to galavant around the hoods of Seattle. She's rusty, but trusty, and when I hit the never expecting bump from our evergreen roots, the bell dings on its' own. I am a sight to see, I'm sure, if not for a lesson in humility.

Next month, I am coming up on the 1500 meter swim (haven't swam since dunking myself in the sound on Saturday and it was a real in and out moment), the 25 mile bike ride (just imagine the cacophony of dings as I race around the course), and the final 10k which is about 10 times longer than I've been running. Not to mention this race is at Lake Chelan where it will easily be 90 degrees by early morning. Dan has gallantly decided to join me, although I don't know how seriously he is planning on taking it. He may leave me in a swirl of bubbles and dust.

From This:

To this:

My Trusty Medicine in The Basket At All Times

On Saturday, Dan trained me down to the farmers market, and back home. Everyone needs a good coach. No joke, my balance is still a bit off from all the brain surgeries, but I'm confident. Dan even made a little video, sneaker that he is, and I can't stop laughing about it. My goal to finish the Olympic Triathlon is to complete in under 3.5 hours. I'm being modest though, I really think I'm going to easily make the three hour mark. (I hope you can literally hear me laughing as I wrote that.) Set the goals high right!? To the moon!

I may not be living the way I thought I would, but good God, I'm having some freaking fun every single day. And I realize that life is more than just having fun, but sometimes it's really exactly what you need.

If you'll be in the Chelan area the race is July 18th, a Saturday. I assume it will be a zoo, but if you're around you'll know me by my uncontrollable dinging, and ahead of its' time aerodynamic helmet. (Sarcasm.)

The Butterfly Effect

Holy shit I have been lonesome. I don't normally swear on here, figuring I can probably illustrate pretty well without, but, good God, I had no idea how lacking my life was until I went to camp and met other cancer fighters and survivors in person. Until I bonded face to face; until I spent time laughing about our stories; until I realized that although we have different battles, we're essentially the same. We have the same fears, the same trials, the same macabre humor, the same fighting spirit, the same heart and the same soul.

I have been on this hamster wheel of surgeries, and treatments, and applications of treatments, and with that I've been isolated to our house for well over a few years. Obviously, I get out (I just walked four blocks to the grocery store, in fact), but it's always limited, always within time constraints of the chlorotoxin. I've been conditioned to fear seizures, and seizure triggers (heat, sun, noise, thirst, hunger, emotional stress, physical stress), leading me to micromanage my life to an exhausting minutia. I just want to live, and explore, and laugh, and for the first time in four and a half years, in Moab Utah, I felt normal. I felt completely happy, blissful. They got me. They told their stories that I knew in my bones. I felt it. We were the same.

I do a great job of recognizing the beauty in life. In every single moment I am tangibly grateful for each breath, each laugh. I have a lot of fun noticing the little details each day (the fresh breeze on a new soft leaf, the color of the sky when I peek out of our bedroom window) but I am not living the way I want to live. Not because I have cancer, but because I have so many constraints. Too many constraints. I can't not do the chlorotoxin every four hours. I can't not do my immunotherapy. But what I can do is surround myself with people who get me. People that support me within my limitations. I have a great group of friends, but now I have a tribe. A tribe that feels like family. It sucks, but when you get diagnosed with cancer, all of a sudden everything changes and it never goes back. I've had to distance myself from friends because they didn't understand my needs, both physically and emotionally. I've had friends distance themselves from me for their own reasons. It's a complicated life that we live, and for the first time, talking to my peers, looking in their eyes, I realized that I don't have to entertain my apologetic internal dialog about what I'm going through. Cancer patients don't just fight for their lives, they also shelter the people they love, about their fears, about the true state and reality of the struggle. They try to assimilate, to blend in. It's just easier for everyone, but it's exhausting. It's necessary because people can't really handle our burdens non-stop. It's too real. It's too honest. It's too close to death.

I feel like I've awakened. I feel like I found an oasis, just in time to replenish my body. I don't know how this trip, this experience, will change the trajectory of my life, but it will. It always does.

Cue The Music

Recently, I was invited to join a group of bloggers as an ongoing roundtable for brain tumor patient issues. When the email popped into my inbox, I was surprised, and honored to be included. Over the past four and a half years I've corresponded with many brain tumor fighters, and family members of fighters; a few times I've been solicited to endorse various products (which I've turned down - ironically they were mostly pharmaceuticals), but I had yet to be invited to submit a post on a specific subject regarding brain tumor patient care or patient issues. I am flattered! The deal is that I submit my post and then out of all the submissions the National Brain Tumor Society will choose a few to be featured on their national website. I don't know if that excites me or terrifies me, but I do love to write so I figured this will at minimum be a fun homework assignment, a good challenge. The topic: What symptoms do you think should be candidates for therapeutic drug development?

When I read the topic, I slouched down, disappointed. I was hoping for something else, anything else, that I could write organically and passionately about. The tricky part? I don't like to take drugs. (Which, humorously, will probably bump me out of the running of getting on http://www.braintumor.org/.) But what do I do? I wasn't about to all of a sudden flip flop my stance just for the chance to be published. At least, I didn't think I would. But as I started really thinking about drugs, I remembered my lorazepam prescription which as been a life saver. Possibly even literally. Lorazepam is what I take as I feel an aura, the premonition of a seizure, coming on. It effectively mitigates my seizure issue, stopping my seizures in their tracks. It allows me to live a semi-more-normal life. So, although I don't like to use medications, I realize that there is definitely a place for them in my life. Not only is there a place, I actually need them.

Even though the idea of taking more drugs is unappealing, I acknowledge that it is in my best interest to keep my mind open. My hesitation as been due to the traumatic side effects I've experienced from the various drugs prescribed for my brain surgeries and seizures. Sure, sometimes they were minimal and worth it, but most of the time I felt like I couldn't win, that I was stuck in some sort of medical purgatory. I've dealt with horrible acne of all kinds, moodiness, weight gain, lethargy, even thoughts of suicide - all from taking those tiny little pills. Side effects are no joking matter, sometimes they're even worse that the symptom you're trying to alleviate. So, anyway, as I've digressed, what symptoms do I think we need more drugs to combat? Huh. Tough one. I have to scan back to my situation: exhaustion, memory loss, cognitive issues, word-finding issues, extreme difficulty handling changes in routine, seizures, nerve damage from surgery, vertigo, brain pain/headaches, scar pain, sensory defensiveness or overload. I can't even think of the other random symptoms I deal with. It has all become a sort of blur that is my life.

But if I was to hope for a miracle drug that could evaporate one or a few of my symptoms, a magic pill that would help me get back to normal, that ever elusive state that we remember fondly - the time before diagnosis - I would hope for something to poof away my exhaustion without causing a seizure. Or I would poof away my brain pain and headaches. Ultimately, I wish I could poof away all of it so that I could run free like the happy little squirrel that I am, but I know that it's impossible. I can't unexperience this brain tumor life. I am forever changed. It's a shame that we can't unknow things, or unhave specific experiences. So, since I will most likely never be able to take a pill to poof all of the symptoms of my tumor, and my brain surgeries, I do wish for something that would give the illusion of health, and would provide a more enjoyable day-to-day life. If I didn't experience scar pain, screw pain, incision pain, and headaches in general or if I didn't experience such drastic exhaustion on a daily basis, it would be a great improvement in the quality of my life. It would allow my brain to heal and rest, and probably assist the recovery from my cognitive issues, even lessen my seizures. All this stuff has such a domino effect. And if the side effects were minimal, I might just get up and dance about it. Oh who am I kidding, I already started wiggling in my chair at the word dance (cue C&C Music Factory, "Everybody dance now..."). Ultimately, nothing is going to keep me down for long, not a headache, or complete exhaustion. I won't wait on a pill to live my life, but I'm not going to lie, the option sure would be nice.

Coffee Enema

Three guesses about what I'm about to do when I finish this post.....

Really quick, thank you for all of the amazing comments, and support for my treatment!! I appreciate you guys so much!

I have a funny, gross post today...I have been meaning to do a coffee enema for about, well, a couple of years - ever since I started researching important things to do for cancer patients. I really do want to do this enema, for the results, but I'm TERRIFIED of the process. Coffee enemas are very effective at stimulating the immune system. (Check out The Gerson Therapy.) Therefore, I figured it is now seriously time for me to buck up. I've made it this far, taken all kinds of supplements, conquered a few brain surgeries, and now I'm embarking on an immune system boosting treatment with the vaccine....I should be woman enough for a coffee enema. Right? GROSS!!! I can not believe I have to do this. I'm supposed to do it once a week. I hope this doesn't turn into a complete disaster. Wish me luck. Sorry, is that too much to ask? Sorry if you're totally offended.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here goes nothing. Or, more accurately, here goes my innocence and dignity...