The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Happy Holidays!

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Happy Holidays!: The holidays always find a way to sneak up on me.  No matter how prepared I think I am, I always find myself a holiday hot mess!  I scramble...

Happy Holidays!

The holidays always find a way to sneak up on me.  No matter how prepared I think I am, I always find myself a holiday hot mess!  I scramble to get cards, gifts, and other holiday greetings out on time.  It is unenviable that I will unintentionally forget something, or someone along the way.  I need to start planning for the next year as soon as this years holidays have passed.

My health issues never fail to provide many kinks in my holiday plans.  Take this year for example.  Having surgery the week before Christmas, for lack of a better word, sucks!  Jeff and I haven't even been able to put up a Christmas tree, or decorations.  Luckily, modern technology has allowed me to record all of the lovely holiday programming to watch at a later time.  If not for that our home would be Scrooge-worthy in appearance.  The only hint of the holiday spirit has been released through christmas cookie, and apple cider scented candles.  There is never a shortage of candles at the Kleinman household.  It has recently struck me that the holiday season will be over before I have truly gotten into the holiday spirit.

Fortunately, I get to experience an abundance of holiday cheer at the hospital.  The children, and the families I visit at the cancer center never let their ailments turn them into holiday grinches.  They do whatever they can to make the hospital as festive as possible.  Families bring in platters of holiday treats, play Christmas music all season long, and reinvent their traditions for the hospital setting.  It is a joy, and my absolute pleasure to take part in as many holiday activities as my body allows.

Taking part in new holiday events is honestly wonderful, but there is a large part of me that yearns for all of the holiday traditions of my childhood.  Every December I wish I could go back in time to small town Wisconsin, waking up at home with my parents, and my sister on Christmas morning.  Feeling that carefree exhilaration that only Santa, and Christmas spirit can instill.  Waking up at three in the morning is never easier than on December 25th.  Now-a-days the first bout of nausea and vomiting starts my Christmas morning.  Let me tell you, that is definitely not the same feeling of exhilaration you get when your a child waking up for Christmas.  The feeling is more that of, I deserve a gift after dealing with this shit all night...Merry Freakin' Christmas, my ass!  You can take back every present I received if I could have just 24 puke-free hours!

I know I sound extremely bitter, angry, and like a holiday buzz-kill, but really, I'm not.  I enjoy the holidays, and I am grateful to be alive to celebrate them.  Seeing houses covered in Christmas lights, purging on holiday goodies, giving & receiving gifts, and experiencing the cheerfulness the holidays bring is heartwarming.  I truly love it.  I just wish "life" didn't have to get in the way of holiday happiness.  I wish I could experience it once again, as I did, when I was a child.  I can only hope that I give the children at the hospital a sense of that magical holiday spirit, and one day when I have a child I can enrich their life with the holiday traditions I hold so dear.  

Have a safe and happy holiday! 

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Everyday Heroes

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Everyday Heroes: Over the course of my lifetime, many people have asked me who my heroes are.  Since becoming sick, I have been asked more frequently.  I alw...

Everyday Heroes

Over the course of my lifetime, many people have asked me who my heroes are.  Since becoming sick, I have been asked more frequently.  I always find it hard to pinpoint just one, because heroes are all around us.  I encounter heroes everyday.

Usually the question of my heroes is prompted by my positive outlook on life.  I don't know how many times I have heard that I MUST hold the secret to happily dealing with cancer.  Let's get one thing straight...there is NOTHING happy about cancer, but I have found a lot of happiness since receiving my cancer diagnosis.  That is because I surround myself with heroes.

All of my fellow cancer patients are my heroes.  They have been dealt a similar hand to mine, and yet they are always there to comfort me when I need a helping hand.  We can relate to one another on a level that many cannot.  We laugh together, cry together, bitch & moan together, but most of all we love each other.  United we are stronger than the terrible illnesses that try to defeat us.  Everyday when I walk into the Cancer Center I know that I am among heroes.

The nurses, and all of the healthcare staff that treat, and care for patients day-after-day are my heroes. It is not an easy job taking care of the sick.  I will be the first to say that, as a patient, I am a gigantic pain in the ass.  The doctors, nurses, technicians, etc, that help me pull through the pain, and constant challenges that come with illness will forever by my heroes.

Lastly, and most importantly, my family and friends are my heroes.  I would not be the person I am today without all of you.  Through the good, the bad, the ugly, and the even uglier, my family and friends have loved me, embraced me, and accepted me for the person I am.  Never once, have you tried to change me, or have you treated me like "the sick girl".  I have remained Meg, or Megan, or to my mom, her MegPie, or to my dad, his little Meggie.  All of you provide the sense of normalcy that I crave.  Being surrounded by medicine day-in-and-day-out is exhausting.  My family and friends take me away from that part of my life.  I am able to escape the misery of being a cancer patient, and when I can't find my way out of the misery, you all are there to dig me out.  Boy, am I lucky to be surrounded by so many heroes.

To me, a hero is someone who provides hope for the future, finds the strength needed at your weakest moments, and turns sorrow into joy.  There are heroes all around us.  I'm sure all of you reading this are heroes to more people than you know.  Even if you don't think so, you are a hero to me.

Sidebar:  The booster campaign is running for a couple more days.  Please consider purchasing a shirt at www.booster.com/hopeformeg.  Thank you!

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: All The Comforts of Home

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: All The Comforts of Home: It's no surprise that dealing with cancer, or any kind of illness, is uncomfortable.  Your taste for food changes, the way things smell ...

All The Comforts of Home

It's no surprise that dealing with cancer, or any kind of illness, is uncomfortable.  Your taste for food changes, the way things smell changes, the way things feel begin to freak you out.  It is a whirlwind of change that is endlessly frustrating.  Each day, I find something new that bothers one of my senses. It's almost like being reborn, and experiencing scents, tastes, and touches for the first time.  What I once knew to be true, is no longer.

The biggest change has been in my wardrobe.  Most fabrics make my skin crawl.  It is an absolutely awful feeling, so my clothing options have greatly decreased.  Most days, I feel like a slob because my fashion has been reduced to clothing only made of 100% cotton.  Make-up has become obsolete, and my jewelry is minimal.  I feel like a big, puffy blob of cotton-covered cancer.  The image is disturbing, I know.

Over that years, I have learned what types of things comfort me.  I do my best to surround myself with the items that lift my spirits, and make me forget about daily struggles.  The single most impactful product I have found is; the candle.  I know it may sound weird, but lighting a candle, and filling my surroundings with delightful scents, brings me to a calm, and centered place.  I am drawn to scents that remind me of home, and that evoke positive memories.  I can escape to these memories for a while, and leave the pain behind.  Candles allow me to relive happier times, like baking cookies with my family, or drinking hot cocoa after building a snowman.  Candles can also bring the scents of holidays to my home when I am unable to travel back to Wisconsin, and celebrate with my family and friends.  Lighting a candle transports me to a cancer-free point in time.  What more could I ask for?

I have been fortunate to discover certain comforts that take me away from the harsh realities of life, and allow my mind to remember all the wonderful things life has to offer.  A few other simple pleasure I indulge myself in are; hugs, warm blankets, hot showers, the unconditional love of pets, laughing with family/friends, and waking up to a brand new day.  Since being diagnosed with cancer I make sure to revile in these simple pleasures longer, and more passionately.  One day, I will no longer be able to enjoy these things, so I am going to embrace them while I can.

The children struggling with serious illnesses often tell me about their pain, and how uncomfortable life in a hospital is.  It breaks my heart to hear the kids living without the comforts of home.  Ever since I starting visiting the children at the cancer center in Syracuse, I have heard the same complaint.  The kids hate their room.  I can't say that I blame them.  The room has pale gray walls, dark gray floors, and plain white window coverings.  The only color in the room is on the beds.  Each child has their own linens, but other than that the room is, for lack of a better word, gloomy.  I knew I had to do something to change that.  I asked the hospital administration if I could paint the walls, or let the families paint the walls.  I was shutdown in my request, but I came up with another idea.  I asked if we could tape drawing paper to the walls.  I told the hospital staff that I would take responsibility for maintaining the art wall if they approved it.  I must have presented an offer they couldn't refuse, because I was granted approval for the mural.  I talked with the maintenance staff, and early this morning they applied drawing paper to two of the walls in the children's room.  They put up the materials while the kids were at their respective treatments.  I was immediately notified when the walls were all set up.  Before the kids went back to there room for the afternoon, I snuck in.  I laid out markers, colored pencils, water colors with paintbrushes, and crayons, along with a note.  The note read: These supplies are all for you guys to make your new art wall!  I had previously informed the parents of what I was planning, so they could help the children design their mural.  After my treatments, I went down to contribute a special little "Meg touch" to their work of art.

I am so glad that the kids could express themselves in their temporary home.  Seeing all of the kids giddy with excitement for their new art project, warmed my heart.  It was a joy to watch them drawing all of their favorite things on the wall.  They could finally have the comforts of home in their hospital room.

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: So Very Thankful

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: So Very Thankful: Thanksgiving is right around the corner.  I have so many reasons to be thankful, but today I was given a very special reason to be thankful....

So Very Thankful

Thanksgiving is right around the corner.  I have so many reasons to be thankful, but today I was given a very special reason to be thankful.

As I entered the children's floor at the cancer center this morning,  I was greeted with overwhelming happiness and love.  The children, and their parents had a wonderful gift for me.  Two of the kids ran to me, grabbed my hands, and led me into the community room.  They sat me in the "special" chair and told me to wait there.  I sat there anxiously waiting for my surprise.  The children, and their parents began filling the community room.  I found it strange that so many families were at the hospital during normal working hours, but I didn't question it further.  I was excited to see what the special occasion was.  As the families filed in, I notice each family was holding a piece of paper.  Once everyone was in the room the offering began.  One-by-one the children showed me their papers.  The families had individually made a drawing for me to show how much I have impacted their lives.  As each family presented their picture to me, my heart grew warmer. Naturally tears of joy and gratitude began streaming down my cheeks.  After all of the families were finished presenting their drawings, the parents collected the papers, and bound them all together into a picture book.  They told me that children wanted me to have a piece of them with me wherever I go.  I took the book, and held it tightly in my arms.  This is one gift I will cherish forever.

If that wasn't enough, the parents told me that they had another present for me.  All of the kids, and parents had come up with a t-shirt design for a booster campaign.  They wanted to sponsor a fundraiser for me to help out with my medical bills, and traveling expenses to Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in NYC.  Nathan's parents (Nathan was the inspiration for Superhero Day) shared the idea with the other children, and their families.  All of the families were onboard, so they began brainstorming about the graphic for the t-shirt.  After a couple craft sessions, the families were ready to bequeath the design to me.

A little back story... Last month, I sponsored a booster campaign, and designed a t-shirt for Nathan's family to help with their medical expenses.  The fundraiser helped ease some financial stress for them, and they wanted to return the favor to me.

Nathan and his family gathered around to show me the t-shirt idea, and I was completely enamored by the amount of thought, and love that went into the design.  The children and their families have all noticed, and commented on my tattoos.  One of them always seems to stand out.  The words Courage and Strength tattooed on my right forearm with the Irish symbol for courage always tugs on the heartstrings of those whom see it.  I wear it proudly as a reminder to stay strong through each treatment and each setback, as well as, to remain courageous going into each new day.

The tears were again flowing as the family reviled the graphic for the t-shirt.  Everyone knew it would be an emotional moment, and it would be difficult to get the words out, so they typed out why the choose the specific design.  Nathan's sister scrolled down on the computer to show me what they had written.

It read:
The graphic design for this t-shirt was designed by children and parents that Meg visits at the Cancer Center in Syracuse, NY.  The idea was sparked from the tattoo Meg has on her right forearm.  The true spirit of the words Courage and Strength live within Meg.  Her unwavering fight towards a cure for her cancer, and the support she has for her fellow cancer patients is awe-inspiring.  Meg is the epitome of Courage and Strength!  Her never-back-down approach to cancer, and her positive outlook on life is a gift to us all!  We love you Meg!

We were all blubbering messes!  Children, parents, nurses, and doctors were all gathered around.  Needless to say, we all had a good cry, at one point, or another.  Oy Vey!

Thanksgiving is next week, but regardless of what month it is, I have A LOT to be thankful for!

If you would like to see the t-shirt design, or would like to order a t-shirt to support my fundraiser, please visit www.Booster.com.  The campaign is called: Hope For Meg (It may take a day for the campaign to get up and running).
Thank you

What Did You Say?

As I have explained in previous posts, I am thrilled to be at a large cancer center in Syracuse.  The physicians, and nurses are at the top of their respected fields.  The equipment is state-of-the-art, and the treatment plans are extremely comprehensive.  The fellow patients and staff are warm, and more than welcoming.  I couldn't ask to be at a better facility.  That being said, not every aspect of the hospital can be all sunshine and roses.  With every good piece of a news, a bad piece of news is surely to follow.

My bad piece of news came on the second day of treatment in Syracuse.  The first day was mostly orientation.  I met many members of the hospital staff, my new doctors, and got familiarized with the my new surroundings.  The mood was light, and overall quite positive.  I remember feeling terribly nervous about the introduction to my new oncologist.  What would they think of me?  Are they looking forward to working with me?  Am I going to be just another name on their list of patients?  Will I be just another number?  To my surprise, the introductions were successful, as well as, fairly pleasant.  I felt confident embarking on a new treatment path.  That all changed on day two at the cancer center in Syracuse.  I continue to have complete faith in the facility, and the wonderful staff at the hospital.  The doubts lie completely within myself.  The question at the forefront of all my healthcare concerns is: Do I have the strength to maintain this fight?  My doctors and I, are both, beginning to ponder said question.

The second day at the cancer center carried a much darker, and more intense feeling.  I sat down individually with each of my new physicians.  We spoke in depth about my "case", and my tumors.  Everyone loves to chat about themselves now and then, but in this situation, I couldn't wait until these conversations were over.  I anxiously sat with each doctor as they asked me a battery of questions.  By the time I got to the last oncologist interview, I was filled to the brim with tension and anxiety.  I could not wait to leave his office, and jump in the medi-van back home.  The questions had become torture.  I was passively answering, in hopes to swiftly maneuver through the interrogation.  It was working to my advantage until he shocked me with his final statement of our meeting.  He told me that the oncological staff will work tirelessly to accommodate my healthcare, but he doesn't foresee a long lifespan in my future.

What the hell?  Who pitches that statement at someone, stands up, shakes my hand, and proceeds to usher me out of his office?  I was left in utter shock.  I kept my composure until I sat down in the car.  The minute I fell into the seat, the tears began welling up in my eyes.  It was truly the longest ride home of my life.  How do you digest that kind of information?  I decided I wasn't going to share what the last doctor told me the day before, until I spoke to the other physicians.

The next day I stormed into the cancer center with a mission.  I was going to confront the entire oncological staff.  I was absolutely sure they would discredit what the doctor told me the previous day.  I was floored at what I heard.  The consensus was that my life will be cut short due to cancer.  They couldn't give me a timeline because I have defied the odds before, but the science doesn't lie.  I will most likely run out of treatment options if the tumors don't stop spreading soon.  In that moment, I felt my heart sink to my stomach.  What have the past four and a half years of treatments, surgeries, and procedures done for me?  Why have I been subjected to immense pain, fear, and heartache for so long?  Why did I even bother to fight?

I wallowed in that empty feeling for a few days.  I'll be the first to admit, I was a SUPER bitch during that time.  I was ready to lay down and die.  I fully succumbed to my illness, until I looked over at a picture of my family and friends on my wedding day.  We all had smiles on our faces, and happiness in our eyes.  I could feel the love pouring out of that picture.  In that moment, I realized that I got married while battling cancer.  The most wonderful day of my life happened amidst my cancer fight.  Why should I give in to my illness now?

My life may be cut short, and I will to fight until I take my last breath.  My cancer will most likely kill me, but I vow to keep living until that day.  I am not just living for me.  I am living for the family and friends from the picture that surrounded me on my wedding day, and for all of those who where there in spirit.  I'm living for all of the patients that have crossed my path along this cancer journey, and for those I have yet to meet.  I'm not giving up.  I'm living.

Superhero Day

The best part about being treated at a the bigger cancer center in Syracuse is the fact that they have a children's floor.  I was devestated when I found out that the small hospital I started at serviced only adults.  I truly enjoy visiting the children each day, and help them conquer their horrible illnesses, any way I can.  I have found that we feed off of each other's strengths to help ease the pains of everyday life.

After my first treatment at the cancer center, I found my way to the children's floor.  I wanted to familiarize myself with the nursing staff, so they knew I was a friendly face, and not some creeper.  I asked if I could take a little time each day to read to the kids.  My request was granted, and I have visited the children everyday since.  The children and I have become fast friends.  I have grown particularly close to a young boy named Nathan.

Nathan was quiet, and extremely shy from the first day I met him.  Last Friday he opened up to me.  Every time I saw Nathan he looked scared and/or nervous.  After I a few days of visiting, I thought I would ask him about it, in hopes he would explain to me what he was afraid of.  To my surprise, he expressed his fears to me.  He is a fairly new patient to the hospital, and he would be undergoing his first ever surgery on Monday(today).  I understood his apprehension.  My first surgery was at age 15, and it was my tonsils. His first surgery is at the age of 6, and is a much more evasive operation.  I sat there listening to this adorable little boy talk about how scared he was for his upcoming surgery.  My mind immediately started churning out ideas to cheer him up.  Nothing sparked my interest until I saw that he had some comic books on his nightstand.  That gave me an idea.

After talking to Nathan on Friday, I spoke to the nursing staff, Nathan's parents, and family members of the other children.  With permission from all parities involved I organized "Superhero Day".  I volunteered to bring the supplies if the families would help construct capes and masks for the kids Sunday.  The idea sparked from Nathan's surgery, but I knew that all the children could benefit from the superpowers given that day.

Sunday morning I went to a local fabric store, and asked if I could buy all the their scrap pieces of fabric from the weekend.  They gladly gave me the scrapes, and I headed to the hospital with fabric, some glitter, needles, thread, and a hot glue gun.  I couldn't sit still the entire car ride to the hospital.  I was so excited to get there, and start "Superhero Day"!  I practically ran to the children's floor when I reached the cancer center.  I walked into the community room with multiple bags on each arm.  The kids had no idea what was planned.  I put down the bags as I looked up at the children and their families.  Just then the families all shouted "It's Superhero Day"!  All of the kids cheered, and we began making capes and masks.  We helped all of the children get fitted for a cape, and personalize them with their first initial on the back.  The room was filled with vibrate colors, children playing, families laughing, and a sea of glitter!  For the first time, I saw happiness of Nathan's face instead of fear.  Being the giant sap that I am, I had to choke back the tears.  "Superhero Day" gave us all strength and courage that day.

I woke up this morning to the buzzing of my cell phone.  Nathan had a early morning procedure, and his parents sent me a picture of him wearing his cape while being wheeled into surgery.  A few hours later I received another picture of him after his operation.  He was laying in bed with his caped draped over him, and he was giving a thumbs up.  The caption read: Thanks for the superpowers Meg!  You're helping me kick cancer's butt!

Nathan, like so many of the other children I have met battling cancer, give me the strength to fighting.  They are all of the superpowers I could ever need!

Fresh Start

After a short hiatus, I am back!  Life has been busy lately.  As most of you know, Jeff and I moved from Memphis to Central New York.  We love it here, but adjusting to our new lives have taken some time.  Transitioning to our new home, and social life has been simple.  We adore our house, and our surroundings remind both Jeff, and myself of the towns we grew up in.  I can see us setting down roots here, and hopefully starting a family of our own someday.

My healthcare has been a different story.  My body punished me for taking time off the treatment schedule to move.  It took some time to procure the medications, treatment plan, and the correct hospital to best facilitate my illness.  My doctors from Memphis transferred me to a wonderful doctor here, but the hospital did not have the technological advancements required to treat my tumors.  The physician here worked tirelessly to find the perfect cancer center for my specific needs.  I am truly grateful for his persistence.  Fortunately, I am now, back on track.

I have been at my new hospital in Syracuse for a week, and my healthcare future is looking brighter.  My cancer still presents itself with an abundance of challenges, but this new facility has brought me much joy.  The hospital I started at was small, and had few "regular" patients.  I found it difficult to meet people, and make friends.  The hospital staff was outstanding, but I didn't have much social interaction.  I missed that, especially coming from large hospitals in Arizona and Tennessee with a ever-revolving door of new, and "regular" patients.  The first day at the cancer center in Syracuse I felt the sense of community I was used to feeling at previous hospitals.  In fact, the first person I had a conversation with had ties to a patient/friend I knew in Arizona.  We chatting the entire afternoon, and I left for the day feeling happy.  For the first time since moving to CNY I felt comfortable, and secure with my healthcare center.

The next morning I got a call from my friend in Arizona who knew the woman I met the day before.  She explained to me that the woman, I met the day before, called her the minute she returned home from the hospital.  She told me how happy her friend was that she met me, and how much she appreciated the time I took to talk to her.  She went on to express how wonderful it was for a young woman like me to take interests in old ladies like them(her words, not mine).  What she said next took me by surprise, and truly struck a cord with me.  She told me that I am doing my life's work.  I am a saint sent to patients stricken with terrible diseases to help them cope, and guide them through their healthcare.  Lastly, she told me that I have been put on this Earth to mend people's hearts, and revive their souls.  Those are extremely powerful words.  I didn't know how to react to that.  I sat speechless on the other end of the line, and began to cry.

I am FAR from a saint.  There are many aspects of my life, and personality I could improve upon.  Her words have stuck with me though.  I have a lot of guilt when it comes to the type of daughter, sister, wife, and friend I am.  I wish I was better at being all of them, but I am comforted knowing that I have helped, even one person, navigate their way through cancer treatment.

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: I'll Be Seeing You

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: I'll Be Seeing You: We all go through life dodging curveballs, and searching for happiness.  As I age, it becomes more and more challenging to bounce back after...

I'll Be Seeing You

We all go through life dodging curveballs, and searching for happiness.  As I age, it becomes more and more challenging to bounce back after a fall.  Not only the physical aspect, but the emotional fatigue that consumes me.  The fear, anxiety, guilt, and sorrow beat me down so viciously sometimes, that I no longer know which way is up.  I truly believe that taking chances, and forging ahead on the path unknown, brings great reward.  Doing what is right for me and my family is the most important decision I could ever make.  Moving on, and turning the page in my "Book of Life" will hopefully lead me to my "Happily Ever After".  That is the ultimate goal in life, right?

Living with cancer, and spending most days with other seriously ill patients, I have grown somewhat accustomed to death.  That sounds incredibly morbid.  Unfortunately, it's the truth.  I am in NO WAY saying that I am used to watching people die.  Death is unpredictable, and a horrible experience.  It doesn't matter if I am extremely close to the person, or barely know them.  When a person passes away, the news is always unsettling.  Another casualty of spending so much time in a hospital is saying goodbye.

Saying farewell to a fellow patient and their family is always difficult.  It is a mix of so many emotions. If the patient is leaving because their condition has improved, the whirlwind of emotions are all over the map.  Feelings ranging from elation to sadness run wild.  It is always wonderful to hear that a friend's health is improving, but it is also hard to say goodbye.  Suddenly a person who has become a staple in your life is no longer there.  Not seeing them everyday creates a missing piece in your life.  All the modern conveniences of today allow us to stay connected, but it is inevitable that there will be a strain on the relationship.  On the other hand, if the cause for farewell is due to death, saying goodbye becomes much more permanent.  The emotional flood that comes with a person's passing is unpredictable, and quite often unbearable. 

It is no secret that Jeff and I have moved around a lot in the past few years.  We are logical and methodical when it comes to uprooting our lives.  Each move has been for the betterment of both of our lives.  Job opportunities, healthcare advancements, and an improved quality of life has always been at the forefront of every move.  It is no different in regards to our upcoming move to New York.  The chance at a fresh start, and a better life is leading us to the east coast.  We are thrilled to begin this new chapter, but that does not make saying goodbye any easier.

Today was the beginning of the end in my Memphis journey.  Learning from my Phoenix departure, I knew that the children are the most stubborn when it comes to change.  I wish I would have given the kids at Mayo in Scottsdale more time to adjust to me leaving before moving away.  This past Sunday, I visited the group of children and parents that I have grown particularly close to.  I explained to the kids that I would soon be leaving Memphis to get the healthcare I need in New York.  They, of course, understand the importance of getting the best healthcare for my condition.  Most of them have traveled from their homes to receive care in Tennessee.  The children and I both took the conversation very seriously.  We both understand that this move is imperative to my well-being, but none of us want to say goodbye.  I know that we will always be in each other's hearts, but sometimes we need something a bit more tangible to hold on to.  

The children have a community iPod and speaker dock in their room.  I downloaded a special song to the iPod for the kids.  After I spoke to the children and parents about my leaving, and they voiced their questions and concerns, I told them I had something I wanted to share with them.  I cued up the iPod, and played the song I had uploaded for them.  Most of the music on their iPod is trendy, and recent.  I wanted to expose them to a song with some depth and meaning.  I told them that whenever they missed me, they could play this song, and they would know I was still right there with them.  I told them that I would do the same when I missed them...which will be everyday.  I hugged them all, and let them know that I would be back to visit them soon.  I pressed play as I walked out of the room.  I heard "I'll Be Seeing You" by Billie Holiday play as I walked down the hall.

I went to see the kids today before I had my treatment.  They were all in great spirits this morning.  We chatted about our weekends, and caught up on all the gossip.  I brought in some make up and nail polish for the girls.  We gave each other makeovers, and mock manicures.  I brought in some scrap fabric for the boys.  We made superhero outfits out of the various pieces.  It was so much fun!  All too soon the time came for me to head downstairs for my treatments.  The kids were still laughing and playing when I left the room.  Two steps into the hallway, I heard a faint melody.  Soon after I heard Billie Holiday softly sing, "I'll be seeing you. In all the old familiar places"...  I was stopped in my tracks.  My heart melted.  I couldn't hold back the tears.  I stood outside the doorway while the song played.  I began to hear little voices sing along with the tune.  I was a ball of emotion, crying my eyes out.  Then suddenly a smile came to my face as I heard the children singing with Billie.  I was overwhelmed by the love we share.

Goodbye never get easier, but the memories stay with us forever.  I will be able to relive that moment for the rest of my life, and for that I am truly fortunate.  I'll be seeing you Memphis.

Fitting In

I have been trying to "fit in" my entire life.  To be honest, I will deny it to anyone who asks.  If anyone inquires about clicks I have been in, or the types of people I flock to, I will always answer the same way.  "I am an independent individual."  Or, my personal favorite.  "I am a free-spirit".  These statements are partially true.  I wouldn't classify myself as any particular type of person.  I get along with almost everyone.  I love to chat with a variety of people.  I can talk to anyone for hours.  It doesn't matter their age, race, or social status.  Even though I no longer actively search to be a part of the "in-crowd", I continue to seek acceptance in social settings.  I never want to feel like a "loser", or "outcast".  I became all too familiar with that feeling in my younger years.  That pain, and sadness is something I will carry in my heart for years to come.  It is an emotional scar, but it will never define who I have, or will become.

We have all experienced rejection from friends, family, and/or complete strangers.  I am lucky that for every person who rejected me, I have had a wonderful friend/family member who has love me exponentially more.  As I age, I learn much more about myself, and those around me.  In the past I thought I needed to change who I was to better "fit in".  I was willing to alter my personality, and my interests to be popular.  I wouldn't dare change who I am these days.  I am satisfied with the person I have become.  Of course, there is always room for improvement.  Instead of letting my surroundings dictate the person I am, I incorporate new and different traits to enhance my personality.  

The lesson that has made the biggest impact in my life is excepting, and appreciating change.  It's no secret that I have moved around a lot in my lifetime.  It started in college.  Since age 18 I have lived in in seven different states.  I have visited many more.  In each state, I have grown and evolved as an individual.  I have discovered the person I want to be.  I have explored my passions.  I have also opened myself up to wealth of knowledge, and experiences.  Each state helped mold my ever-changing lifestyle.  

I no longer strive to "fit in".  Popularity really is not what it's cracked up to be.  I prefer finding people and places that "fit" into my life.  Happiness comes from within, and being surrounded by everything I love makes me happy.

All Walks of Life

One of my favorite aspects about being a frequent visitor to hospitals and cancer centers, is that I get to meet many different types of people.  I have the opportunity to form bonds with fellow patients from all over the world.  I get the pleasure of diving into their culture, and learning first hand about their traditions.  I love immersing myself in the lives of those around me.  I've been extremely fortunate when it comes to my curiosity.  Most of my fellow cancer patients welcome me into their style of life with open arms.

I'll be the first to admit that I can get a bit carried away when I submerge myself in the lifestyles of those around me.  I instantly throw myself into the culture of my friends.  I enjoy watching the interactions between families, and multiple groups of friends.  I soak up as much as I can, and before I know it I transform into an alternate version of myself.  I hold tight to the integrity of my individual character, but I will permeate my personality with a bit of cultural pizzazz.  I want to be perfectly clear that I am in no way mocking, or poking fun at different ethnicities.  I am fascinated by all walks of life.  I simply pick up phrases, and mannerisms of those I spend time with daily.

Since moving to the Mid-South, I have perforated my northern accent with a slight southern accent.  It usually only comes out at the hospital when I'm chatting it up with the nursing staff.  They all have such thick southern drawls.  Words like ya'll, and fixins' sneak out of my mouth from time-to-time.  I embrace it, and considerate myself bilingual...Ha!  Yupper mixed with Hick, a touch of a British accent, and dusted with a Southern Drawl.  Yup, that's me!

There is group of Jewish ladies I instantly migrate to everyday.  They play bridge every afternoon after their mid-day meal.  They don't spend much time actually playing the game.  Most of the time they are swapping stories, and gossiping about other patients.  I flock to these ladies like "moths to a flame".  They are intriguing to watch, and a blast to hang out with.  I have picked up some of their idiosyncrasies.  They come out in full force when I'm around these ladies.  I transform into a combination of Barbra Streisand, and Mike Myers Coffee Talk character from Saturday Night Live.  I through around my fair share of words like: schvitzing, verklempt, and Mazel Tov.  I simply love these ladies.  I honestly don't think they can get through the day without saying Oy Vey at least 40 times, throwing salt over their shoulders at least 20 times, and spitting on someone for good luck at least 10 times.  I will gladly join in on the Oy Vey tally, but I'm a far cry from carrying around salt in my purse, or hawking a loogie in someone's face for luck.

Another clan I enjoy spending time with is a family of 100% Italians.  They are a such an adorable bunch.  The grandfather of the crew has been stricken with an aggressive form of cancer.  The tight-knit family doesn't let a day pass without visiting grandpa.  Each day the group gathers for family dinner.  An endless stream of family members fill the cafeteria toting pans of food, pitchers of beverages, and a new flower arrangement for the table.  The family has so much love and respect for each other.  I have been invited to join them on quite a few occasions.  They welcome me as if I was a part of the family.  The eccentricities I have observed while watching the family interact, consume my nature.  I immediately jump into the nurturing, selfless role I see the other wives and mothers play.  Before I know it, I"m serving up food, and making sure everyone has gotten enough to eat.  I find myself asking everyone if they got the bread, drinks, and dessert they wanted.  I am constantly asking if everyone's food is hot enough.  Before they can even answer, I grab their plate, and tell them I'll nuke it for another minute to make sure it's nice and hot.  I run around with a chicken with my head cut off along side the other ladies.  It is most important they the family has a successful dinner.  After the group has eaten, the wives/mothers and I finally sit down to eat.  We pick at the food as we exchange in witty banter.  After being so polite during dinner, those ladies remove their censors, and curse like sailors.

The group that is most entertaining is a pack of Vietnam Veterans.  They are dirty old men that spend their days hitting on nurses, and fellow patients.  They swap vulgar jokes, and the same war stories day-after-day.  From afar they appear to be a battalion of impenetrable grumps, but that is the furthest thing from the truth.  Although, they love gossiping like a gaggle of 16 year old girls, they also possess a lot of heart.  They will come to the rescue of anyone in need.  Their troop isn't as impenetrable as it looks.  They gladly welcome newcomers.  As of right now, I am the only lady member of the pack, but I have a tough skin.  I'll throw dirt right back at guys.  I can hang with the most bubbly and cheerful of ladies, but I can also kick it with the grumpiest of men.  One thing I can promise is that both visits will end in a giant bear hug!

Each day at the hospital is like a visit to the United Nations.  I get the pleasure of interacting with plethora of men and women from all walks of life.  I truly enjoy learning about different cultures and ethnicities.  I appreciate all of the people who share their lives with me on a daily basis.  I am a better person because of the knowledge I learned from them.

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Rita

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Rita: Sundays are typically a slow day at the hospital.  Just like any healthy person, sick patients enjoy taking the weekends off to spend with f...

Rita

Sundays are typically a slow day at the hospital.  Just like any healthy person, sick patients enjoy taking the weekends off to spend with family and friends.  I spend most weekends at the hospital because my husband works in the golf industry.  Weekends are a particularly busy time at the golf club, as one would expect.  I've been very fortunate to be able to work my treatment schedule around my husband's work schedule.  I have also had the pleasure of forming strong bonds with the few patients that stick around on the weekends, and furthermore, with the weekend hospital staff.  Fewer patients allow for less haste and stress at the cancer center.  The relaxed atmosphere allows more time for conversations, and getting to know one another.  There is one particular woman I always make sure to catch up with on the weekends.  Unlike most of the patients she has treatments only on the weekends.  She maintains a full-time job Monday through Friday, so she focuses solely on her healthcare two days a week.  When the weekend rolls around, I always look forward to catching up with her.

Today played out the same as usual.  I headed to the hospital early for treatment, and to catch up with Rita.  She was the first person I spotted after checking in, so naturally we jumped right into conversation.  Rita is a single, hard-working lady.  She's very assertive and forward, but not in a bulldozing kind of way.  She speaks with a soft tone, and a strong southern accent.  Her charm can be deceiving.  She has the ability to make grown men cry, and leave hospital staff standing in a pool of urine.  I've seen it happen...yikes!  Needless to say, don't get on Rita's bad side.  For the most part, she has a heart of gold, and cares deeply about the people in her life.  She will stop at nothing to make her loved ones happy.  I know this because of the wonderful stories she has told me about her past 60 years.  Rita loves to talk, and her favorite topic is herself.  I don't mind listening to her go on-and-on about her adventures.  She has had an exciting, and eventful life.  We usually skim the surface of what's happening in my life before spending hours chatting about hers.  The situation works for us.  We both walk away from our get togethers with a smile on our face.  Today, however, Rita threw me for a loop.

We connected as soon as I arrived at the hospital.  We exchanged pleasantries, as usual, before jumping into deep conversation.  Rita immediately told me that she received a phone call the night before that changed her life.  I was intrigued, to say the least.  I had a pretty good idea who the call was from, but Rita didn't come outright with the callers name.  Instead, she asked me an intimate question.  I was surprised.  Rita rarely asks me about the details of my life.  She questioned me about the relationships with my family, and friends.  I explained to her that I have always surrounded myself with lots of friends, and that I also have a large extended family.  I went on to explain that most of my relationships were superficial, until I received my cancer diagnosis.  I realized that life isn't something to take for granted, and that life is meant to be shared with the ones you love.  Cancer helped me weed out unhealthy relationships, and embrace positive relationships.  Cancer has also taught me to appreciate the life I've been given.  It has shown me how to make each day count, and how to forgive all the wrongs I have committed, as well as, the wrongs that have been committed against me.  Cancer has helped me decipher between the life I thought I should be living, and the life want to live.  Cancer has given me the chance to explore my passions, and discover who I truly am.  Most importantly, cancer has shown me what unconditional love looks like.  Above all, cancer has transformed my family into my closest friends, and my closest friends into family.  These bonds are stronger than ever.  I no longer view my parents, and sister as just my family.  They are my best friends.  The same goes for my extended family.  The relationships with my aunts, uncles, cousins, etc are no longer out of obligation.  We choose to maintain friendships with each other.  The outpouring of love I feel from family members near, and far is incredible.  The support we share is mutual and never-ending.  The same goes for the friends in my life.  They are no longer just friends, they are a part of my family.  Whether we have been friends since birth, or we have recently made a connection, these bonds are indestructible.  The true friends I have made throughout my life have remained faithful.  For that, I am abundantly grateful.

As I rambled on in response to her question, I saw tears well up in Rita's eyes.  By the end of our chat Rita had tear streaming down her face.  I was concerned, and a little uneasy, to be completely honest.  I had never seen Rita cry.  She reached out her ams, and hugged with such warmth, and compassion.  As we stood there, embracing one another, she whispered in my ear that the call was from Peter.  The moment Peter's name passed through her lips, the tears rolled down my cheek.  Peter is Rita's estranged son.  She had him at a very young age.  She raised him the best way she knew how, but when she married her now ex-husband, Peter stopped talking to his mother.  He was an adult, living on his own, but he didn't approve of the marriage.  He dropped all contact with his mother.  She tried desperately to reunite with him over the years, but could never break down the wall Peter put up.  He was completely unaware of his mother's condition, and I could tell Rita's heart was breaking.  She put on a tough facade, but her eyes showed the truth.  The pain she was feeling regarding the loss of her son was more than any pain related to her health.  I knew I had to do something.

I took a risk by talking to the nursing staff about Rita's situation.  I only spoke to the nurses pertinent to acquiring the information I needed.  Sidebar: I don't condone my mischievous behavior, and I take full responsibility for the leaked information.  Anyway, once I procured Rita's next of kin paperwork, I took it upon myself to contact her son.  I knew it was a long-shot, but I had to try.  I called him, and left a message regarding his mother's current state of health.  I also let him know of the affinity I have for Rita.  I expressed to him the concern I have for her physical and mental state.  Lastly, I shared with him how much Rita misses him.  I explained that not a day goes by that she doesn't think of him, and she tells me stories about how amazing her son is every weekend.  I begged him to contact her one way, or another.  I left him my phone number, as well as, his mother's.  A week later I got a message from him thanking me for the message, and for contacting him.  He told me he would call his mom soon, but he wasn't quite ready.  He needed to prepare for the conversation.  I text him back quite simply, "Thank You".  I knew it wouldn't be long before he made that call.  As soon as Rita told me she got a life-changing call, I knew it was from Peter.

I believe that happiness comes in many forms, but true happiness lies within the company we keep.

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: The Journey

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: The Journey: As my ten year high school reunion nears, I can't helped by reflect upon my life since graduation.  Whew, I cannot believe it has been t...

The Journey

As my ten year high school reunion nears, I can't helped by reflect upon my life since graduation.  Whew, I cannot believe it has been ten years already!  That is a lot to take in!  The fact that we are all getting older doesn't bother me.  I believe that we get better as we age.  I am, however, floored by how quickly the years flew by.  In many ways I still feel like that 18 year old girl excited, and filled with anxiety about the future.  On the other hand, I feel like a 90 year old woman who is bruised, and broken.  The past ten years have been a wild ride, to say the least.

I think it's safe to say that I did not live the "typical" life of a girl in her twenties.  I am not complaining. I have no huge regrets to this date, but I do wish I could have spent more nights puking as a result of excess drinking rather than from serious health issues.  That is a wildly ridiculous wish, but it is my truth.  I don't feel cheated from a "normal" college, or young adult experience.  I attended my fair share of parties, made many irrational decisions, and have plenty of embarrassing memories in my arsenal.  I also harbor a wealth of jealousy to all of you who had the opportunity to live your twenties footloose, and carefree.  That makes me sound like a bitter old hag, but again that is the truth that surges inside of me.  On occasion, I allow myself a small amount of pity for the adventures, and adolescence behavior I missed out on.  I refuse to dwell for too long on what I thought my twenties would be like.  Instead, I choose to reminisce about all the wonderful experiences I may not have encountered if I followed the path I mapped out for future after high school.  Surprises and uncertainty quickly grounded me.  Cancer forced me to slow down.  It showed me the importance of living for today instead of living in a transitional state.  Cancer allowed me to fully appreciate the people, and the places around me.  I am unsure if I would have made as many meaningful relationships in my life without being blindsided by cancer.  I think a part of me has always known that my life would be a roller-coaster.  I never fit the "typical" mold.

I remember when I was in second grade.  We were given the task to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I was super excited about this particular assignment.  I knew immediately what I wanted to be, and exactly how I would draw it.  The teacher handed out blank pieces of paper.  I was giddy with anticipation.  I watched my fellow students pass the paper down rows until finally receiving the pristine white sheet for myself.  I had all of my colored pencils lined up on my desk.  The tip of the pencil could not touch the paper fast enough.  I was in the zone.  I used the entire thirty minutes to sketch my masterpiece.  The teacher collected the sheets when time was called.  She ushered us out to recess, and informed us that she would be looking over our drawings while we were outside.  She also told us that she was going to pick the top five to share with the rest of the class.  I was sure I was going to be one of the top five.  I was confident I picked the best job, and my picture was immaculate.  I stewed with excitement all through recess.  Then, the time came.  We were back in the classroom, and my teacher began calling off the names of the top five pictures.  I was completely devastated after realizing she was not going to call my name.  I sat in disbelief, and utter confusion as the "special" five explained their drawings and career choices.  I was crushed, and I'm positive you could read it all over my face.  After the presentations, the teacher returned the reject depictions to the rest of us.  As she handed the paper back to me, I could see a large red mark in the middle of my masterpiece.  Once the sheet was in my hand I could read the writing.  It was stamped with the word REDO!  Underneath the bold red REDO, it said to see her after class.  I was overwhelmed by sadness and fear.  None of the other students had received such awful feedback on their drawings.  I dreaded facing my teacher at the end of the day.  When the time came, I waited for my fellow classmates to shuffle out of the room.  I sat in my desk with my head down until all of the children were gone.  When the cost was clear, I approached my teacher about the assignment.  She told me matter-of-factly that being a cheerleader was not a real job.  I had to pick a "real" career, and redo the assignment.  She went on to explain that I wouldn't be docked any points if I brought it to her first thing in the morning.  I was furious!  I put all my effort into that picture.  When I returned home, I promptly started my homework, leaving my redo assignment until last.  I was still angry that I had to draw another picture, so I quickly sketched a picture of a lawyer.  I used one color, and left it very simple.  It was nothing compared to the beautiful art piece I created earlier in the day.  As soon as I arrived at school the next day, I headed straight to my classroom.  My teacher wasn't in the room, so I left the paper on her desk.  The morning went on like any other day.  When it came time for recess, the teacher asked me to hang back for a minute.  I did as I was told, and waited for my classmates to clear out.  My teacher thanked me for redoing the assignment as asked.  I got full credit for completing it before school started.  The only comment she had for me was that the giant frown I drew on the face of me as a future lawyer was unnecessary.  I've always had a bit of flair for the dramatic....

It is important to have a direction in life, but don't put blinders on to the world outside of your goal.  Life doesn't always pan out the way we plan.  In fact, the best things in life usually enter when we aren't looking.  Being faced with difficult diagnosis, and a multitude of daily obstacles, I have realized that life is truly about the connections we make.  Memories are made when we embrace the people and places in our lives.  The best lesson I have learned over these past ten years is to push forward to the goals we set in life, but to remember that life is honestly about the journey.  The destination will remain the same.  Take the time to explore.  You never know what you might find.

For Nela

I got a message today from one of my nurse/friends in Arizona.  She was having a difficult day until she remembered a poem I wrote for her three years ago.  She has kept a copy of it clipped to her lanyard since I gave it to her.  She told me that on her break she sat in her car, unclipped the paper, and read the poem over and over.  My writing gave her the strength to get through the challenges she was facing.  I wouldn't normally post something I wrote specifically for a friend, but she implored me to post this poem.  She wants me to share these words with all of you.  Thank you for indulging her.

When I was scared and feeling alone
You stood by my side

When I thought all hope was lost
You gave me reason to believe

When I was immersed in darkness
You showed me the light

When I felt trapped within my sadness
You helped me break through

When I no longer felt joy and happiness
You brought my smile back

Your kindness changed my life
And I will forever be grateful

I will never forget the love you showed me
So, always remember

When you need a friend
I will be there for you

Rosie

Holidays are always difficult at the hospital.  Regardless if it's Christmas, Thanksgiving, or Flag Day.  Big or small, these days bring with them reflection, and many memories.  Most patients will do anything in their power to get day, or weekend passes from their doctors.  No one enjoys spending holidays stuck at a medical facility while friends and family are celebrating.  I have mixed emotions when it comes to these days.  Living so far from loved ones, and my husband working at the golf course on the majority of holidays, I frequent the hospital to celebrate with my fellow patients.  Of course, I would rather be partying with healthy individuals, but being there for all those too sick to venture outside of the hospital is very important to me.  Holidays revolve around togetherness, and stepping away from the strain of daily tasks.  We all deserve these breaks, so we can recharge our batteries and relieve building stress.

I tend to spend the most time with the elderly crowd during the holidays.  It tears me apart to see how many elderly patients are alone while receiving their healthcare.  Children and younger adults have a revolving group of visitors at all times, but the older men and women rarely see new faces.  It breaks my heart to see the loneliness they live in, and the sadness in their eyes.  They try to act as though they are happy, but it's easy to see the pain take over them, and to see their hearts sink with each passing visitor.  I know that I am a familiar face in the crowd.  I am not the visitor they are waiting for, but I try my best to help these men and women escape their struggles for a while.  A simple conversation, and a friendly smile can go a long way.

Yesterday being the 4th of July, many people took advantage of the nice weather, and spent the day outdoors.  Cookouts, picnics, pool parties and firework displays could be seen, smelled, and heard for miles.  There are many cancer patients that cannot go outside due to their illness.  While so many were celebrating America outside, I chose to stay indoors reliving memories of past Independence Days.  I had a spectacular time with a few patients who were spending the day at the cancer center with me.  It was natural to ask the small group of men and women at the treatment center about 4th of July celebrations they have attended over the years.  The stories were fascinating.  They spoke of their youth all the way up to present day.  Some of their narrations were simple and others were extremely elaborate.  It was wonderful to see the pain on their faces turn to joy.

One story stuck out to me.  A woman named Rosalyn shared a truly heartwarming story.  She recounted every detail pertaining to 4th of July festivities from her childhood.  She was glowing as she spoke about her family, and the traditions they shared.  The part of her memory that really stuck out to me was when she spoke of her mother's blueberry pie.  They didn't have much money growing up, but her parents would do anything possible to provide homemade blueberry pie and strawberry ice cream for the kids at their annual 4th of July picnic.  As she ended her story, Rosie said this would be the first year she wouldn't have blueberry pie and ice cream on Independence Day.  I could see the sadness come back to her face.  I was determined to end the day on a high note.  I could not let Rosie crawl back into her loneliness.  

After my treatment sessions, and before heading home, I wanted to find a blueberry pie to bring back to Rosalyn.  I knew that the hospital would have strawberry ice cream.  They keep a stockpile at the nurses station.  Neither the cafeteria, or the cafe had blueberry pie, so I had to look elsewhere.  I cannot drive after treatment, so I knew I had to sweet-talk my medi-van driver into making a couple pit-stops on the way home.  Luckily, my driver was one of my regulars.  We have formed a friendship, and he was willing to help me.  I'm not much of a pie person myself, but Walt knew of a surefire place to find the desired dessert.  He even struck a deal with me.  He said he would pay for the pie if he could keep half for himself.  It was a fantastic deal for me.  I wasn't going to eat the pie, so both he and Rosie could benefit from his offer.  We procured the bakery item, and headed back to the hospital.  Walt headed for the cafeteria to get some milk to go with his pie, as I took course towards Rosie's room.  A pit stop at the nurses station to pick up the ice cream was all the stood between Rosie and her 4th of July tradition. She wasn't in her room when I walked through the door.  I began to worry a bit because I was unsure where she might be.  Luckily, she was only a few steps away in the common area playing cards.  I walked right up to Rosie and her friend(also a patient of the hospital)Lily.  I told her that her story very much impacted me, and I wanted to bring her a little piece of her past.  I opened the pastry box to reveal the blueberry pie.  I took the pie out and cut a slice for her and Lily.  Before she could ask about the strawberry ice cream I placed a healthy scoop on her plate.  Tears welled up in her eyes as she thanked me profusely.  Both Rosie and Lily stood up to hug me, and to thank me again.  The tears of joy, and elation in their eyes was all the thanks I needed.  I sat and enjoyed some ice cream with the ladies before I returned home for the evening.  I was pleased to be walking out with a smile on my face and warmth in my heart.

I walked into treatment today, as I would any other day.  Little did I know what was in store for me.  My first stop is always the nurses station.  I check-in with the ladies and obtain my schedule for the day.  Today played out differently.  I was greeted by one of the nurses before reaching the station.  She told me that Rosie wanted to see me as soon as I got to the hospital.  The request was unusual, but not unheard of.  I walked directly to her room.  My mood was immediately altered as I passed through the door.  This Rosie was not the bubbly Rosie I spent time with the day before.  She was weak, and pale.  Her breathing was labored, and she was hooked up to multiple machines.  I could feel the color leave my face when I saw her.  I took a deep breath in order to hold back the tears.  She reached out her hand toward me.  I took it and sat next to her.  She looked deep into my eyes and whispered "thank you".  I asked her what she was thanking me for.  I told her she thanked me more than enough for the pie.  She went on to explain that me bringing that pie to her meant so much more to her than just tasty treat.  Since her diagnosis, Rosie only allowed herself to think about getting better.  She transformed into a completely different version of herself.  She let her cancer dictate her life.  She was unhappy because she didn't see a future for herself, and she didn't allow herself to reminisce about the past.  Those memories were to painful to relive.  The reflections themselves were not painful, but they took her to a place she knew she would never see again.  She pushed them all aside.  After telling me all of this, she explained that my act of kindness yesterday allowed her to unlock those lost memories.  A smile appeared on her face as she explained the happiness she was filled with by once again embracing her past instead of ignoring it.  Rosie held my hand tighter as she thanked me another time for freeing her from her own stubbornness.  What happened next was surreal.  The woman who had been struggling to get the words out between breathing difficulties, and tears the entire time I was sitting with her spoke with total conviction and assertiveness.  She told me her time was up.  She had lived a wonderful life full of beautiful memories, and her life had completed its circle because of the freedom I gave her.  The last thing Rosie told me was that I needed to hold on.  I had many more memories to make, and to share.  She made me promise.  I promised her I would hold on, and keep fighting.  I wholeheartedly made this promise to a truly lovely woman.  As soon as those words escaped my lips Rosie took her last breath.  Her hand went limp inside of mine.  Rosie was gone.  I placed her hand softly on the bed, and prayed for her to be taken care of in the afterlife.  I slowly made my way into the hallway and collapsed in tears.  I realized in that moment that life is a sacred gift.  We only get one chance to make it something we can be proud of.   

Saved

I get asked the same question day-after-day.  "Do you ever feel like giving up"?  My answer has always been.  "Of course".  I have never met anyone who enjoys, or chooses to be sick.  Be it the common cold, or a serious, life-threating illness.  Feeling less than 100% can turn anyone's life upside down.  Luckily, most people start feeling better after a day, or two.  When illness completely consumes your life, and the timeline of said sickness turns to months, and/or years, it's difficult to continue fighting.  It becomes harder and harder to remain positive, and to not entertain the idea of throwing in the towel.  

I believe the most challenging part of having cancer is how it affects those around me.  I am not a typical 28 year old girl.  I can't work, and I often have to cancel plans, or decline invitations due to my health.  Up until I was diagnosed with such an awful disease, I was a social butterfly.  I have always loved being around people at parties, events, or at lunch with a friends.  Interaction with family and friends is extremely important to me.  These interactions, like many other aspects of my life were put through the ringer as a result of my changing lifestyle.  After my first diagnosis four years ago, my social life got pushed aside.  Healthcare, and my illness became my main focus.  I lost many friends because I was no longer the girl they knew.  The person inside of me didn't change, but I could no longer live life as a carefree 24 year old.  It was evident that I was unable to attend as many social gatherings as I did before learning of my cancer.  Most of my friends did not understand the gravity, and seriousness of my diagnosis.  I was forging along a much different path than most 24 year old.  I would be lying if I said that it didn't cause me a lot of emotional distress.  I was mourning the loss of my friends, and embarking upon a difficult new chapter in my life.  Many ties were severed, but those who truly love me stood behind me, and remain supportive as I continue on this journey.  

The strength of my family and friends who have been traveling along this road with me, is incredible.  I know that it is far from easy to contend with all of my health issues.  It is amazing knowing that no matter what time of day, or how busy they may be, those closest to me will drop everything to be by my side.  Over these past four years, I have witnessed the absolute power, and strength of love.  Seeing the pain on the faces of those around me as I go through treatments, surgeries, procedures, and everyday difficulties of life is heartbreaking.  I hate seeing my loved ones hurting.  On the other hand, every challenge they endure with me comes with reward.  They are right there by my side as I clear each hurdle thrown my way.  Seeing the smiles on their faces, and hearing the joy in their voices is unbelievably heartwarming.  Knowing I have people around me who will dig me out of my lowest of lows, and celebrate every high with me is more than I could ever ask for.  

I continue to mourn the loss of friendships over the years, but I no longer let the sadness consume me.  It is as much their loss, as it is mine.  I will reminisce about the happiness shared with them, but that is all.  I cannot live in the past.  That will get me nowhere.  I will move forward, living in the moment, and embracing the day with those most important to me.  Whether they know it, or not, my family and friends keep me jumping through the many hoops my illness throws at me.  I would be lost without them because, everyday they save my life.

Dreams and Wishes

As we all know by now, I have some interesting quirks.  My most common eccentricity is making wishes.  I am incredibly superstitious, and I believe making wishes within myself, they will somehow translate to the world I'm living in.  I also believe if I remember my dreams, they will one day come to fruition, some day.  There's no harm in that.  Dreams really do come true, right?

The children at the hospital have taken notice of my incessant wish making.  The began with the kids noticing my behavior, and asking what I was doing different times of the day. I told them I was making a quick wish.  That sparked their interest even more.  They started asking what types of things I wish for.  Of course, I could tell them my wishes, but I could help them map out potential wishes for them.  I expressed to them that they could write down their wishes, and keep them in a special safe place, only they know about.  I also informed them that they could close their eyes, and make their wish silently.

The kids latched onto the concept of dreams and wishes.  They wanted to know more.  They asked about places they could go to make wishes.  I told them about wishing when you go under a bridge, wishing of four leaf clovers, wishing when all the numbers on the clock are same, and so on.  Lastly I told the children about wishing on stars.  I could see all of their bright, smiling faces go blank.  I saw their little heads drop into their hands.  I was shocked by this change in attitude.  "Was it something I said".  I sat in front of them, looking at their innocent faces.  I few minutes passed and they didn't perk up.  Finally, I just asked what was going on.  One boy looked up and said he has never see stars.  Oh my goodness!  That thought never crossed my mind.  Most of these children are so young, and have been stuck in medical facilities their entire lives.  They have never seen a beautiful night sky.  That got me thinking.

I went to the administration to inquire about putting up glow-in-the-dark stars in their patient room.  I was nervous to hear her answer.  The hospital just built a new-state-of-the-art room for the pediatric cancer patients.  During the construction the children have been staying in their regular room until completion of their new patient area.  To my surprise the administration gave me the go-ahead to execute my design.

I did a lot of research on each planet, the many different moons, stars, and constellations.  I recruited a nurse and two technicians to help me get the room set up, especially with the manual labor.  It took two days to pull it all together.  I didn't want to just slap stickers on the walls and walk away.  I formed constellations with the press on stars, and we painted different space scenes around the room.  I brought in books and magazines that are all space related, so they can identify what we put in the room, and explore other aspects of space.  I'm not gonna lie...the room is pretty stellar!  I'm totally envious.

The charge nurse called me this morning to tell me that the children were moved to their new room.  They were ecstatic by the transformation!  All of the kids were full of energy exploring their new area.  I could hear random screams of "Thank You" in the background.  It was adorable.  I'm so thrilled they like what we accomplished in such a short period of time.

I know there are many people who don't believe in superstition.  Many men and women believe only in what's is tangible, and fact-based.  That may work for some, but what kind of life is that?  I think it is truly important to let our minds absorb the abstract world around us, giving us a hopeful outlook.  How is anyone supposed to have hope if they don't dream?  Dreams provide us with our wishes.  Wishes are a gift to be granted in time.  No two wishes are the same, just like no two stars are the same.  We give our wishes to the stars to hold them until we are ready to receive them.  I can't give the kids the entire night sky, but I'm so happy I was able bring a tiny piece of it to them.

Scars

Over the past few years I have acquired many physical scars because of my illness.  I experience dizziness and lightheadedness without warning.  In turn, I faint quite often.  One minute I am fine, and the next I'm face down on the floor.  It's alarming how quickly it can happen.  Nine out of ten time I hit my face, neck, or arms on the way down.  Aside from waking up on the floor, I am am often laying in a pool of blood.

My most recently scars have been burn scars.  I have gotten burned by a multitude of equipment at the hospital.  The most painful burns are radiation burns.  These burns are large and very deep.  I can feel the pain down to the bone, and every time I move.  I have had to alter my clothing, bedding and furniture in order for me to find some sort of comfort from these irritated areas.

The most prominent scars are those that are on my face.  I have a mix of old and new from passing out, and catching my forehead, or chin on corners.  I tell most people(strangers), when they ask about them, they are from a car accident.  It is easier to give them a generic answer.  Car accidents, unfortunately, are a fairly common occurrence, so they don't pry any deeper into the situation.  Children are most likely to ask personal questions that are difficult to find the answers for.  In general, they also have a short attention span, so a direct answer is all they want to listen to.  That is the saving grace for both of us.  They get an answer to their question, and I don't have to dwell on past injuries.

Adults on the other hand, they like to pry.  I understand.  It's human nature to explore the unknown, and to be nosey at times.  I admit that I like to be all up in everyone's business.  I'm just as curious about the lives of those around me, as they are about mine.  It's the way of the world.  Social media would never be what it is today without inquiring minds.

I was visiting a new patient at the hospital today.  We were getting to know each other, naturally, she was asking about my scars.  I gave her a short synopsis of where they came from, and we moved onto another topic.  We talked for about 20 minutes while she was settling in.  I had to go in for my last dose of radiation for the day, so we said our goodbyes.  I told her I would check in on her tomorrow, and I left the room.  As I was walking out, her father stopped me at the door.  He asked if we could chat in the hallway.  I was perplexed by his request.  I hoped I hadn't imposed on time with his daughter.  My anxiety was trough the roof.  I thought he was upset with me for interrupting him, and his daughter.  To my surprise the conversation went in the opposite direction.  He thanked me for coming to welcome his daughter, and his family to the hospital.  He said that the nurses and doctors haven't been very accommodating.  He appreciated that I made time for them.  I was relieve that he was not angry with me.  I told him that it was my pleasure to talk to his family.  I truly enjoy making connections with other patients, and their loved ones.  I assured him that this would not be a one-time thing.  I will be "bugging" them all the time.  They'll be sick of me.  We shared a laugh, and I told him that I had to head over to my treatment room.  He nodded, and left me with a strange message.  He said "You wear your scars well.  I can tell they are much more that skin deep.  You have earned them."

I was dumbfounded by what he said while I was walking away.  I only just met this man, and he could already see through me.  Am I that transparent?  The hospital is the one place that I do shed all of my walls and barriers.  It is the one place I am truly exposed.  I can be as strong, and hardheaded as I want to be outside the hospital doors, but once inside I am frightened, and alone.  I feel like I am stripped of all of my "superpowers", and I lay there a lost little girl.  My scars are there for everyone to see.  I can no longer hide them because they are who I am.  I am wounded.  He saw the broken person inside of me.  He connected with her.

Scars are not just superficial.  Scars run deep.  There is a physical and emotional attachment to each one.  I have tried for many years to hide them, or cover them up.  I didn't want to show my flaws.  For the first time in my life I am proud of my scars.  The man at the hospital helped me realize that I wear my scars, they do NOT wear me.  They are markings on a roadmap of my life showing me where I've been, and the struggles I've endured.  Each scar holds a memory that helps me continue on this life-long journey.

Millie

I have experienced many situations, and met many interesting people over the past four years.  The hospital is a huge melting pot of ethnicities and personalities.  I have seen the best and worst sides of people.  In turn, hospital staff and fellow patients have seen the best and worst sides of me.  Medical facilities are playgrounds for emotion.  One minute spirits can be high, filled with laughter and joy.  The next minute the tension can mount, and tears are being shed.  It is truly a roller-coaster of feelings and emotions.

I was waiting in the imagining prep room before my CT scan today, when a elderly man walked up to me.  He asked if he could sit next to me.  I thought it was strange because I was one of two people in a room filled with chairs.  I was curious why this man chose to sit so close to me.  Most people avoid direct contact with other patients at all costs.  It's a challenge to engage in small-talk when you are dealing with health issues.  Your body is in a state of discomfort, which makes casual conversation painful.  I am, however, an exception to that rule.  Chatting it up with strangers, or friends helps me to forget about the difficulties that come with illness.  It allows me to escape my troubles for a while.

This man sat quietly next to me for a few minutes.  I assumed he wasn't in a talking mood, so I took my phone out to check Facebook.  It was the perfect time to live vicariously through the Facebook status' of my friends.  As I was scrolling through some pictures one of my Facebook buddies posted, the man turned to me and asked: "When did you dye your hair"?  I was taken aback by his question.  How did this man, I have never met before, know that I color my hair.  I began worrying about how awful my hair must look.  My roots must be terribly grown out.  I was a frazzled mess, but I composed myself enough to answer his question.  I told him I began coloring my hair when I was in high school.  I started off with putting bright blonde highlights into my natural blonde hair.  I explained to him that I mimicked my sister after she first colored her hair.  I always looked up to her, and wanted to be just like her.  After going off to college in Michigan, and exploring my personality more I decided to completely change up my hair.  That is when I went from blonde to brunette, and I have been ever since.

The man listened intently to me blabber on about my hair.  I was surprised I even kept his attention.  He looked at me the entire time I was talking, but I could tell that he wasn't fully invested in my story.  A few minutes after I stopped talking, the man took my hand and said; "No matter what color your hair is you'll always be beautiful Millie".  Obviously my name is not Millie.  I began to understand the emptiness I saw in his eyes.  He wasn't living in the moment.  This man was lost.

I was not frightened by him taking my hand, or not being aware of his surroundings.  I knew that he wasn't going to hurt me.  He just needed someone to talk to.  He began telling me a story about a woman named Cora.  He was reminiscing about his past, but I could tell that he thought it was the present.  A few minutes into his story the receptionist came over to us.  She whispered in my ear that the man has alzheimer's disease, and that his daughter would be out to get him shortly.  I nodded and smiled at her.  I told her there was no rush.  I focused my attention again, to the man, and his story.  Approximately fifteen minutes later the man's daughter entered the waiting room after her test.  She walked right up to us.  Immediately she told her father to stop bothering me.  He told her that he was catching up with Millie, and to leave him alone.  I could tell that struck a cord with the woman.  Her eyes filled up with tears when she heard the name Millie.  It was evident that a lot of emotion was involved in this topic, so I interjected.  I stood up, gave the man a hug, and told him it was wonderful catching up.  I said that I had to go have my test done now, and I walked back to the CT scan.  The man waved goodbye with tears in his eyes, and a smile on his face.

My scan lasted about ten minutes.  To my surprise when I walked back into the waiting area, the man and his daughter were still there.  The elderly man was intensely involved in a magazine, and didn't even look up when I walked out.  The woman, on the other hand, stopped me abruptly and asked if I could talk to her in the hallway.  I was, of course, willing to talk to her.  She nodded to the receptionist, and we stepped out into the narrow hallway.  She asked if she could give me a hug, and before I could answer her arms were wrapped around me.  She thanked me profusely for talking to her father, and not ignoring him.(She had spoken to the receptionist about what went on in the waiting area while she was having her imagining test done).  She praised me for allowing her father to resurface memories of his daughter(her sister) Millie(who past away when she was about my age), and his wife Cora.  The man had not been able to find the memories of Millie, or Cora since he was diagnosed with alzheimer's two years ago.  Tears ran down her cheeks, and emotion filled her face as she expressed her gratitude toward me.  She told me that she had not seen her father this happy in years.  The moment had past, and her father was back in a confused state, but he remembered all of the joy her used to feel.  I began to cry as she spoke of his happiness.  That is a moment that I will get to cherish for the rest of my life.

People and places bring back unexpected memories without warning.  I think too many times we slough off these memories instead of embracing them.  These memories make up who we are today, and the individuals we want to become.  Retrace the footsteps of our past, but forge a new path toward the future.  The mind is something to be treasured because it can be taken away in an instant.

The craziness that is the hospital...

Hospitals are largely avoided by most people, and understandably so.  Unless you work in the healthcare field, or are visiting someone at the hospital, many people steer clear of doctors and medical facilities.  I wish I was so lucky.  I have see more emergency rooms, doctors offices, and operating rooms than I care to admit.  I joke that I should have kept all of my hospital wristbands in a scrapbook.  What a pitiful and depressing scrapbook that would be.  Ninety-nine percent of hospital visits are pretty miserable, but there are a few moments that completely catch me off guard.  Moments that make me laugh.  Moments that make me appreciate my health.  Moments that keep me fighting.  Those are the memories I choose to remember.

The emergency room is a host for so many strange encounters.  People say and do crazy things when they are in pain.  I saw two giant women( I'm talking 6'4", 350 pound women) threatening to fight nurses, doctors and other patients if they didn't get let back to get examined.  I have seen and heard numerous people scream at the top of their lungs because they didn't like what they were being put through.  Anything from curse words to religious prayers come spewing from their mouths.  I have also seen many people faint, or threaten to faint at the sight of even the smallest amount of blood.  I find it hilarious that people, especially the elderly, will make it blatantly obvious when they need to use the restroom.  I have never heard "I need to pee" more than at the ER.  The absolute craziest thing I have ever heard was at a hospital in Arizona.  A young girl gave birth to her child in the ER.  She didn't even know she was pregnant!  Talk about an intense situation!

The emergency room is not the only place that crazy stuff happens.  I have seen some crazy sights while admitted to the hospital.  Most patients feel like they are invisible when they are in their rooms.  I can't tell you how many people walk around naked past open hospital doors.  Yikes!  I have seen more oldies flash me full frontal nudity than one should ever see!  For ever front I have seen twice as many backs.  Talk about a full moon!  Yowza!  It's interesting how many random people will walk into my patient room.  They will sit down next to my bed and start yammering on about whatever is floating around in their head.  Most of them are doped up on whatever medications the doctors are pumping through their veins.  The conversations interesting, to say the least.  It's safe to say that all privacy is gone once you enter a hospital.

These experiences have provided me with many unique hospital visits.  I am grateful through all my woes I have been able to maintain a fairly level head.  Well, I guess that is for each of you to determine.  I might be just at crazy as the people I write about.  Ha!

Disguising the Pain

The other day I had a serious conversation with my mom.  The reality of my current situation truly set in.  I would be lying if I said I wasn't taken off guard by the discussion we had, but I also understand where my mom was coming from.  She only wants what's best for me.  

After learning of my new diagnosis, and being informed that it has already metastasized, my parents decided that it is time to ask about my wishes after death.  The morbidity of my cancer took center stage.  We have talked about the possibility of my death coming sooner than expected before, but this time was different.  My death wasn't addressed with "what if", rather it was questioned with "when you die"...  My thoughts immediately went to "whoa, these questions are real".  There is a strong possibility that I will pass on before my parents.  After putting my family through years of struggle due to my health, I am also going to leave them with the burden of my death.  That was a lot for me to take in.  I am still trying to digest it all.  My defense mechanism has always been to turn topics that become too "real" for me into a laughing matter.  I was joking around with my mom while we had this conversation, but between the jokes, truths came out.  It was a strange phone call, to say the least.  I don't think anyone else but my mother could have navigated what I was saying.  It is difficult for me to express what I want at my funeral, and the details of my burial without diverting to humor.  

Most of my friends and family know my mannerisms.  They understand that poking fun at my health is a way for me to stay positive, and avoid the heartache cancer has brought to my life.  It is not just my life that is being affected daily by my illness.  Everyone who comes in contact with me experiences the hardships of cancer.  The truth of the matter is that most of people around me only skim the surface of my disease.  I tend to deflect the conversation before it reveals the honesty of my day-to-day life.  On the other hand, there are people in my life who choose to avoid my situation.  It is easier for them to steer clear of discussing what is happening regarding my healthcare.  Either way, I try to maintain a happy and positive exterior, but inside I am torn to pieces. 

When I am alone, or with those closest to me, my emotions come to the surface.  The physical and emotional pains are no longer hidden.  For every smile and laugh there is a frown and tears.  I live in fear.  I am not afraid of death.  I am afraid of leaving the ones I love before I am ready to.  I am scared that I won't have the opportunity to say my goodbyes.  

Life teaches us lessons

I had a conversation with a young girl at the hospital today.  She is 14 years old, and has been recently diagnosed with cancer.  She has been very closed off since learning about her illness.  It's evident that she is experiencing depression and anxiety.  I have never gotten asked by a patient's doctor for a favor before.  I was taken off guard.  He approached me after her parents expressed concern about their daughter's mental health.  It's a requirement for cancer patients to be assigned a oncology psychologist, but it is not a requirement for patients to actively participate in therapy.  After learning about the severity of his patient's mental state, he suggested I talk to her.  The doctor heard about me from some of the nurses at the hospital.  He thought it might be easier for her to relate to me, than the psychologist. 

I am a chatty-Kathy by nature, so I was happy to help.  In general, it is easier to open up to a friend, than to a healthcare professional.  I first approached her two weeks ago.  We have slowly become friends.  I saw today that she is breaking through her shell.

When I got to the hospital this morning, I was greeted immediately by a few nurses.  I felt like I was being ambushed.  I was a little worried until they told me why they were waiting for me.  The young girl had been asking about me all weekend.  It was the first time she initiated social interaction.  They were excited to see her walls coming down.  They told her I wouldn't be back until Monday.  Multiple nurses tried talking to her, but she said she would wait to talk to me.  The nurses were eager to tell me as soon as I arrived at the hospital, so I could chat with her.  They didn't want her to revert back to an introverted state.  I was anxious to have a conversation with her too.  I was hopeful that she was letting me in.

I had to get prepared for my treatment session first, but as soon as I could I went to find the young girl.  I saw her sitting in a common treatment area.  I quickly walked towards her.  Her face lit up when I saw her, and brought a smile to mine.  I sat down beside her.  I apologized for not being there over the weekend.  I explained that my husband and I had plans we made months earlier.  She told me she was glad to see me, and that she had some good news.  She was bursting with excitement as she delivered her happy news.  Her parents bought her a puppy!

In the past couple of weeks since I met her we mostly discussed how her illness was ruining her life.  She said that she would never get to fulfill her hopes and dreams.  She was positive her diagnosis was a death sentence.  I was completely honest with her.  I told her that I can't predict the future.  No one can tell her exactly how her illness will affect her life.  I told her the one thing I know for certain is that she doesn't have to give up on her dreams.  Her hopes and dreams might just have to be altered, but not forgotten.

I asked what dreams she feared that she would have to give up on.  She said that she has always wanted to go to college, and travel the world.  She wants to be a veterinarian.  She loves animals, but her dad is allergic to pet dander.  She used to work at humane society on weekends, so she could be around the animals.  She can no longer go because of her health.  She would tear up every time we talked about it.  I informed her that her cancer will never change what she is passionate about.  She can still achieve her goals, and her dreams can become reality.  

I further explained my situation, and how I have been fighting my cancer for four years and counting.  I have been able to realize some of my hopes and dreams during that time.  I found the man of my dreams, and had the most amazing wedding all while fighting cancer.  I could see the surprise in her eyes when I told her that.  I went on to tell her that her dreams could come true as well.  She can continue school with tutors, or home schooling.  As for traveling, she could travel the world through books.  When she gets better she can see all of the places from the books in real life.  I reassured her that life has endless possibilities.  I brought her several books from all over world, so she could start planning her world tour.  I set her up with a wonderful tutor, and I help her with her homework whenever I can.  I also told her that I recently got the puppy I wanted my entire life.  I shared with her that making your dreams come true may not always be practical, but worth the risk.  Her parents weren't exactly happy that I told her about getting Buck.  Hearing that from me, and seeing pictures of my puppies, only made her desire for a dog stronger.  They said getting her a puppy wasn't an option because of her father's allergies.  That was until I explained to them that there a hypoallergenic breeds.  I printed off a list for them to have, just in case.  This weekend they surprised their daughter with a puppy of her very own!

I believe that having a positive mindset does change the outcome of life's decisions, whether they are big or small.  No matter what obstacles life throws at us, we have to keep forging ahead.  Life doesn't stop when when times get tough, unless we let it.