Mazel Tov

I was walking down Harvard St in Brookline to get some bagels and shmeer with a scarf on my head and felt a real connection to my Jewish roots and have since started incorporating more Yiddish into my vocabulary. Examples include:

         “Today I organized the tchotchkes in my room.”

         “I’m shvitzing, now I’m cold, now I’m shvitzing again.”

         “Mom you’re such a mensch for handing me the remote.”

         “Oy vey this sucks.”

You’ll now notice a mezuzah on our front door.

On a more serious note…

This is going to sound like I’m being humble and strong, but I promise you I’m just giving you the facts. It is a strange thing to be so thankful at a time like this, but I learned extremely quickly how relative everything is. I will now list all the reasons not to feel bad for me:

1. My diagnosis conveniently waited until two weeks after graduation, even though we speculate it started a few months before. This way I got to finish school and actually enjoy it without missing one class or celebration.
2. I LITERALLY have the most treatable cancer that exists. If it had been Non-Hodgkin’s, it would be a completely different story, but no, it’s Classic Hodgkin’s and they have essentially been curing people of this for as long as 30 years. There was also a moment of panic where we awaited to hear if it had spread to my bone marrow, but nope I was in the clear. I also got to move from stage 4B to stage 4A, which may not seem like a lot but basically credited my nastiest symptoms to mono rather than the cancer which was HUGE. Only six months and I’m done.
3. My neighbor happens to be a doctor who got us in touch with my oncologist who happens to be one of the leading lymphoma specialists in the world… Not only do I live 30 minutes from the medical capital of the world, but I am in a set of the most capable hands possible.
4. Having just graduated, I actually didn’t have any plans for the summer so it was easy to adapt to my new schedule. I also could easily withdraw from City Year, which I had only committed to for one year, in order to finish my treatment this fall. I’m just taking an unexpected gap year.
5. Both my dad and brother follow a school schedule so they had the summer off as well and Zach could come home much more often than usual to help out.
6. My mom doesn’t work so she could easily postpone her volunteer and other commitments this six months to take me to appointments and just do whatever is necessary at the shortest notice.
7. Many of my friends didn’t begin their new jobs until mid-August, so they have been around all summer (and lots are still in the area) to make me feel loved and supported like the amazing friends they are.
8. As a family we have the means to not be stressed financially with the often crippling costs that treatment, drugs, commuting, and much else can cause.
9. Along the same lines, I have no obligations. I don’t need to work to support a family or myself and I’m not trying to keep up with classes. I can sleep in most days and sleep all day if I need to. I have the greatest respect for those who balance treatment with raising and providing for a family or themselves. There are so many people out there fighting for their lives while dealing with countless other stresses and it is them that we should be feeling for and reaching out to.
10. This is the biggest mystery to me: I have reacted so well to treatment! Yes there are days or weeks that are better than others, but overall my body has adapted tremendously. Each cycle of chemo is different, and there are always certain side effects that creep up, but most are manageable with medication and some rest. I’m not saying it has been easy, and the doctors have warned me it gets harder as you go (which I would agree with), but don’t picture me as the cancer patient you see on tv, bedridden, throwing up, depressed. I’m going about my normal life as best I can and enjoying a lot of it.
11. The most important thing, however, has been my family. I honestly would not be so positive and healthy both emotionally and physically without them. My mom stayed overnight with me on a miniature cot in the hospital for twelve nights at the very beginning. Looking back, if I had those hours alone, who knows where my mind would have gone. Instead I could wake up at 3am drenched in sweat and she would jump up to help me change or hobble with my IVs to the bathroom. There is nothing more comforting than that. My dad drove after many long school days, and through his own shoulder and neck pain at the time, to bring me froyo and keep me company so my mom could go home and shower. Zach stayed home as long as he possibly could to be there to help with the dogs and be an extra set of ears for lots of decisions and new information, as well as visit me and make me laugh. It’s funny to think that in years to come we may look at this experience as something that brought our close family even closer together. This summer was about all of us supporting each other, because cancer affects the entire family, not just the patient, and sometimes it is those around you who need the reassurance and comfort more than you do.

Identity Crisis #1

Upon shaving my head I quickly noticed my uncanny resemblance to the alien emoji. This is not the first time I have questioned who my real parents are, but they still seem to be sticking to their story, so for now I have no choice but to believe them and continue living off their food, shelter, and means.

I also feel a strange kinship to Dr. Evil’s hairless cat.

The things that really matter in life, like my hair.

Call me (and probably every other young girl or even woman who finds out they have cancer) superficial because my first thought upon diagnosis was IM GOING TO LOSE MY HAIR! I’m sure there was a second there that I also thought, I’d like not to die, but once that was swept off the table, my flowing locks were my first concern. Yes, I knew it would grow back, and most say it comes back even nicer, but its the public nature of it that is so scary at first. I’m a pretty average looking person who likes to blend in with the crowd, so all of a sudden publicly declaring myself in this subcategory took some getting used to. Unfortunately I have an amazing role model who has dealt with this kind of thing (and much more) every day for the last 25 years so I knew I could handle it, and now I find myself wearing a head scarf with a strange sense of pride, like I’m part of an exclusive club. (But it’s not that exclusive and we don’t want any more members and your worst nightmare is to be in our club….) On the bright side, my shower time has been cut in half, my friends say I’m trendy just because I have a scarf on my head, and I rival my dogs for who has the softer head (although its hard to compete with fur). Now I’m just dreading that awful in-between stage of growing it back out: buzz cut length = ew, bowl cut length = gross, and then there’s like one-inch long length in-between those that haunts my nightmares. So tell me I look good even when I don’t.

For those of you who don’t know, here’s a brief intro:

In June I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I am technically stage 4 because it is above and below my diaphragm, but after a few tentative days we were assured it was completely treatable and had nothing long term to worry about. Short term however, I have six months total of chemo. I was supposed to do City Year in Boston this September but had to withdraw and am just living at home seeing friends, taking art classes, and taking up lots of hobbies when I’m not commuting to Beth Israel Hospital in Boston. I have reacted really well to everything both physically and emotionally and so far everything is going as planned. My family and friends have been amazing, which is just as important as the drugs in the whole process. All the thoughtful texts, emails, calls, and gifts are so appreciated.

 

I’m not much of a writer but, oh and I don’t like a lot of attention, oh and I generally would never dream of writing a blog, BUT I have a lot of thoughts and a lot of time these days, so here it goes…