The Forgotten Bunch

Yesterday, my mom shared an amazing story from The Wall Street Journal. It was about a guy my age who had a brain tumor resection. After the surgery he was completely blind in both eyes (they didn't say whether the blindness was due to an "oops" during surgery - one of those caveats that doctors give but don't expect to happen under their hands, or if it was expected).

Even though he was blind in both eyes, he was able to do a 7 day group kayak trip along the Colorado river. It wasn't a float, it wasn't easy, they started out with the basics and by the end of the week they had individually conquered class III rapids on river kayaks. It was an amazing story. The best part (in my opinion) was that the adventure was free. Here's a quote from the First Descents website, "They were there to prove themselves and to prove a point: that cancer, no matter how aggressive, dormant, advanced, or invasive, would never be stronger than they were."

What a beautiful program. What a wonderful idea. 

There were a lot of points in the article, and an unbelievable amount of links. I guess, what surprised me was that young adults are forgotten when thinking of cancer. Here's an excerpt from the article; "The grim statistics have become a rallying point for activist groups: Some 72,000 Americans aged 15 to 39 are diagnosed with cancer every year, and more than 10,000 die. They make up less than 10% of all cancer patients, but survival rates for teens and young adults have barely budged since 1975, while those for children and older people have made dramatic gains."

I guess my point is that there's definitely a need for research, specifically in the treatment area regarding young adults and cancer. We might be the forgotten bunch, just like the middle child.

Victorious Secret

Above is a photo of my soccer team Victorious Secret, which started up recently. During last week's game I took a serious hit to my kisser. Instantly, my eyes started watering and I walked toward the edge of the arena. The blow was pretty hard, and I was incredibly shaken up. It wasn't the pain, although it did happen to split the inside of my lip, that scared me. It was the fear of the possible damage to my brain.

Although, I'm recovering pretty quickly from the blow, I still have a headache which scares me. Since the surgeries, I've been reluctant to give up the things that I love. Probably since I've been told time and again that quality of life is the most important thing; which I took to mean, do what makes you happy. I guess, now, after getting blasted in the face, I'm starting to wonder if maybe my quality of life isn't just about the here and now.

I don't want to rattle my brain that has so lovingly carried me out of the abyss. There are always things that we desire that aren't good for us, and for me, that just might be soccer.

According to my doctors, the only option would be to wear a helmet, which is exactly what my parents urged me to do in the first place. The style of helmet would be a soft helmet that wraps around the head and has a guard along the face. If that's not embarrassing I don't know what is. I guess the joke is on me. I don't remember our last season of soccer to be such a contact sport, and I wasn't expecting it to be so aggressive - at least not at this level of play. Unfortunately, I think in an adult women's league we're probably even more aggressive than most professionals, but without the insane soccer skills. After my doctors told me that a helmet is necessary, several of the girls from the team offered to wear them with me (ski, and bike helmets that they already have) but apparently hard shell helmets are against league regulations. They tried to join me and that's all that matters. I've got a pretty great group of friends!

With that blow to the face, my body, and the world, is reminding me that I'm only six months out of surgery and that I need to tread lightly.