Tuesday, August 13, 2013
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.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
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.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
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.
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.
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