Hi all you Miss Melanoma readers, Just FYI, I just dedicated a page to my dear Bobby at LIVESTRONG Action.
This page is a part of the world's largest dedication book that LIVESTRONG Action will use to pressure world leaders to do more to fight cancer. Can you add your name to my dedication page? It'll only take a second, and you will be my best friend FOREVER.
Also, you can help me reach my target of 25 dedications.
Right now, Lance Armstrong is dedicating his ride in the Tour de France to the fight against cancer. And after the race, he'll send this dedication book - with your signature - to world leaders and pressure them to make cancer a priority in their own countries. It's our best chance to push for better treatment, more funding for cancer research and access to care for everyone around the world.
But if people like us don't stand up, these leaders won't pay attention.
Congrats to Planet Cancer for reppin' us well. Here's an email I got from them today.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- June 24, 2009
Dear Friends, We wanted to let you know about an exciting thing happening for us today! Tonight, Wednesday, June 24th 2009 at 10pmET on ABC, there will be a Special Edition of "Primetime" to Air from the White House, "Questions for the President: Prescription for America." And guess whose there... PLANET CANCER! Heidi, Courtney and 2 other PC members will be 4 of the 100 people to be there with President Obama tonight to get the chance to ask questions concerning "the Future of the Nation's Healthcare System." Woo hoo! Check out more info here.
WE'RE SO EXCITED! WE HOPE YOU ARE TOO! TUNE IN AND WATCH ABC AT 10pmET !!
Help the Melanoma Research Foundation (MRF) raise $20,000 in its first "Melanoma Tweetments" online fundraiser! You can help the MRF find pathways to a cure by sending updates about melanoma to your friends via Twitter and Facebook and donating a few dollars to fund melanoma research.
I walked Bear today at dusk, and it was the most amazing sunset I've seen in some time. It was the kind of evening that makes you think everything will be alright.
There is so much going on today, but I feel for some reason like everything is going to be okay. And it will, won't it? Isn't there some saying that everything will be okay in the end, and if it's not okay, it's not the end. I believe so.
Just trust me on this one- look for the good things that you have today. You have a good friend, you have a roof over your head, or you have been comforted in the fact that you're not alone. Or maybe best of all, you have figured out that you don't need another thing in the world.
I have all of those things to be thankful for today, and so much more. Just take this for example: this month will be the 4th anniversary of my melanoma diagnosis. I can't even tell you the number of times I thought I'd never make it this far, and yet I have. I have a certain sense of destiny now, a feeling that everything happens (and happened) for a reason. Even the loss of so many friends, even the sadness, even the chronic pain I live with every day. All I can say is it woke me up from what I thought was a fulfilled life.
I feel like I will look back at these days as the happiest in my life, as a time I felt like I had it all figured out. Want to know what the secret is? Knowing that you'll never figure it out. I'm learning to embrace that. Relish it. Revel in it.
Would I be here without melanoma? Who knows, but at this point I don't even care. Today is all that I care about is today, and today is wonderful. I never flippin' thought I would say that!
A very worthwhile message from my homie Camille for all of you interested in supporting i[2]y. Thanks! ------------------------------------------------ Hello friends! We all like to give, but times are a little tight ....that's what makes this the greatest opportunity to give! All you have to do is apply for a Visa credit card at: http://VISA.i2y.com
Then just buy a pack of gum or whatever suits your fancy at the local 7-11 and *POOF* you have donated $50 to I'm Too Young for This! How easy (and cheap) is that??
Let me know if you have any questions or would like further information - thanks in advance for your help and donation
Camille, Regional Chair, i[2]y SouthWest Young Adult Leadership Cabinet I'm Too Young For This! Cancer Foundation
Life is crazy right now. I'm working really more than doing anything else, but the TAKS is in two weeks, so by May I'll be back to a normal life.
I'm good, though. Besides work, I can say that I'm 100% happy right now. If you know anything about what's been going on, you've probably already figured out that my two cancer support homies are doing good. One has been called "cured," a word which none of us have ever even heard from a doctor before. She was so positive and upbeat through the whole treatment, it was really amazing. And now she's home, like a trooper, healing and doing well. So could be possibly ask for more?
And my other friend is home again and thanks to her crazy strength and tenacity, the treatment she finally finished brought about great news in her last scan. She is now eligible for a transplant and we are excited about this big news. It seems we have all been very blessed, and I am so thankful. Not to downplay what these ladies have been through, but it seems there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
I could go into all the things I've been dwelling over, like how every time something huge like this comes up, I revert right back to hopelessness. That's actually not entirely true, though. If I give myself some credit and am honest, I think that, little by little, I'm doing better every time. I know what I need to do, and that is sincerely and earnestly begin working on myself, coming to peace with the way things are and learning how to live in the moment instead of always wondering about if things will be okay. Admitting that is the first step, I guess, so I need to go about researching and planning a way to do that.
That being said, I thought I'd post some photos, including some things I am thankful for, and then get back to work. May is melanoma awareness month, and I've got some big plans! Can't wait to show you what I'm up to.
And now the photos: 1. This is me at the boxing gym I go to. These boys you see in the photo have become family to me, and they are a regular part of my week. Boxing has been a blessing to me, a way to relieve stress and just another thing that I have in my life that constantly teaches me that I am always in progress, and, simultaneously, always complete. 2. Pink hair is one of the simple pleasures in life. 3. Joy and me. What a blessing having a friend like this is. Our friendship sort of solidified over night, when I was in the midst of a horrible time in my life last year (see this post). She practically carried me through this time, and she's still around every time I need to hear that the TAKS test is not the end of life. 4. The Dude action figure that I have in the kitchen, right beside the Poptarts. Need I say more? 5. Me skating. Now, I'm not going too front and say I do this all the time, because this photo was taken the one and only time I've ever been on a half pipe. But eventually, I know I'll do this again. Maybe even twice. 6. This photo is from last weekend at the Deep Ellum Arts festival, a street fair type gig. And way too much fun for one day. Don't we look fabulous? I'm so happy I'm glowing. 7. These are my girls, and another example of the amazing things that can come into your life when you're down. I can always rely on when I need shop, go out to a club, have a few cocktails, worship handbags, talk about Edward Cullen, or dance. I'm so thankful for them.
8. and 9. Bear is the happiest dog alive. Bobby always threatens to write a book on how to live life like Bear, because this girl does it right.
Never take for granted a single day that you are free to walk around without an IV. Or a day you are not forced to stay in the hospital. It is so easy to forget, isn't it? And yet the average person is so very lucky.
If I sit here long enough, I know that everything is going to be okay. It always is. And when I'm still enough to listen to the part of me that knows that, I can kinda glimpse me in the future, already through all of this, already okay.
Just seems like this week, all those things I use to help me get to that little place: boxing, dancing, playing guitar, drawing, sleeping, reading- I was either too busy to get to do them, or by the time I got to them it was just too late. Or maybe it wasn't too late, but things kept getting in the way. Conversation. Thoughts that didn't need to be there. Seems like even in those activities that get me away from every thing for a while, my restless mind won't let me be free. Not even for 45 minutes. That's not true, actually. I mean, I get away, I find the quiet spot. But it is just so much harder to get there, and even harder to stay there. So I'm daydreaming now of vacation. Someplace warm and sunny. I turn off my phone, not read my email, not be constantly reminded of work and the TAKS test and stress and everything else. I go someplace where no one knows me and no one will try to make me talk about it. I'm somewhere alone where I can just sit in silence for 14 days. That would be heaven. Even if this daydream is only 5 minutes, it, plus LOL cats and a delicious Hostess cupcake are getting me through today.
So you know about my support group. You know that there are 6 or so of us, and that we are very close. We're from all walks of life, with ages spanning from fairly young to much older, and our incomes and lifestyles are even more diverse. And you know that they are what got me through the worst times of cancer, that they are the reason I can look at cancer without bitterness and regret. You know that most of what I learned from cancer, I learned with their help
What you don't know is that in the last few months, 2 girls in my group have been diagnosed again. One has had a recurrence of non-hodgkins lymphoma, and is trying another chemo regimen in order to be considered for a stem-cell transplant. Another has been diagnosed with a new cancer, if you can believe that.
And, of course, it's hard. It's way hard. I'm sure it's not actually so, but it might even be harder to be the one on the sidelines, having been through my own experience. Though these girls make it look easy. They accept their emotions, whatever they are, without shame and without trying to hide them. They express their emotions, even anger and fear, with grace and with peace. They amaze me. They make me pray for the kind of wisdom and acceptance that I see in them.
Please keep my friends in your thoughts and prayers. When you have a second during the day, send them some positive thoughts. I believe in that sort of thing, I believe that it makes a difference in the journey, if not the outcome. But please, God, make the outcome good.
First the good news- I am officially a rocker. That's right, kids. You have always suspected that I rock, and now I have fantastic news for you: I have learned an entire rock song. I can play "I love Rock n Roll" like I am Joan Jett's personal backup guitarist. Ok, not really, but it's not the point. I rock. No, seriously.
So, yes, technically, it is the only song I can play. But if you could only play one song, wouldn't it be THAT one? That's what I thought. And to go with all this grooviness, my amazing boyfriend presented me with a rockin' valentines gift that you see to the left. Amazing. I cried real friggin' tears. Never in my life have I cried over a gift before. I laugh now, but it was insane at the time how overwhelmed I was by such an amazing, touching, rockin gift. Complete with rockin card, in Sharpie. Oh, yeah. This is a rockin household.
Also, I need to give you the low down on what the good people at Land's End are doing. I got a message last week that they have a new line of clothing that is SPF 30 or above. And I quote, "The new Sun.Life collection is a full line of adjustable, breathable, and comfortable clothes for the entire family with an Ultraviolet Protection Factor rating of 30 or 50, which protects 96.7 to 97.5 percent of the sun's harmful rays." Cool, huh?
They were even nice enough to send me a jacket to check out. It's very cozy and warm, but it seems like something I might be able to wear in the warmer weather, too, so that's a bonus, especially in Texas. :) I recommend it on a comfort level and for the UV protection.
So, I know what you're thinking, and no, it does not exactly go with the rocker image that I projected just one paragraph earlier. But what can I say? A girl has to be versatile, and what better reason than preventing melanoma? You also get the promotional code that offers free shipping and is available to you, my lovely reader, from February 8 to February 21. All you have to do is enter the code SUNLIFE and the pin 6365 when you check out. How cool is that? You can check out the Youtube video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcVfvZsaxLE&feature=channel_page
So, besides that, I'm super busy with school. It is high-stakes testing season, after all. And in addition, so many of my people are going through treatment right now. Please keep One Tough Chic in your thoughts, she posts her prayer requests very frequently and I can't tell you what a friend this woman has been to me when I needed it. She is very close to my heart and has always felt more like family to me than a friend. It's so hard to see and hear of my friends going through so much as they fight this disease. I try to make peace with it, but, as you know, it is nearly impossible sometimes.
If you check out my cancer links, you'll read that also Linda is posting regularly and she needs your positive vibes as she has been in and out of a significant amount of pain. Please keep Rich in your thoughts, as he just recently, tragically, lost his wife Rachel to melanoma, as did Tara Swanson's family and friends. And there is JohnnyDeep awaiting upcoming scans, Bert who is in treatment, Becky who is recovering from kidney stones and heading up to NIH soon for scans, Tina who is in between treatments, JayBee who is somewhat concerned over recent scan results, Lance in Florida who is going through radiation, and Dave who is still recovering from treatment. I'm sure I've missed someone, and if I did I apologize. Just know that all of my people out there going through this need your positive thoughts. Treatment and recovery can be such an isolating, saddening experience, but with the right support, your friends can make a hell of a difference. It helps so much just to know that people are thinking of you and that you are not alone.
So for everyone struggling right now: you are not alone.
My thoughts are with you all and the way you sustain consistently inspires me. Thanks for being incredible examples of strength. YOU are the rockers! Joan Jett would be proud.
What if today, instead of fearing what was going on, I allowed myself to absorb it's painfulness? What if I thought about not how unfair it is, but rather what I could offer in prayer? What if I stopped lying to myself about what it is I want to do, and instead just said it out loud in spite of it's awkwardness and "inappropriateness"? What if I faced everything that I am afraid of, knowing I'd come out on the other side? What if I stopped thinking about how angry I am, and diverted my thoughts to how amazing it is that I can make a choice about how I handle my emotions? What if I accepted all these feelings inside me with kindness and gentleness of myself? What if I stopped avoiding the things that I know will make me face what I feel? What if instead of thinking and planning and always writing about what I want to do, I actually did it? Like right now.
I think about the waiting. That, I think, is cancer's toughest treatment: the constant battle to accept that there is no certainty in the future. Even when you know you're going to live through it, you are a sitting duck. You can't make any plans, because no one can tell you what's ahead of you. They don't tell you because they don't know. So you don't want to make any decisions because of the tremendous chance that something will come up and you'll have to drop out of that school you applied to, the job you interviewed for, that trip you planned. And doing that- starting something you worked so hard for, having it within your reach, only to have to quit when you are so close to it- or once you've had a taste of it- that is heart wrenching.
Then you are hit with a barely tolerable second bit of reality, and that is that you have become completely dependent on other people. You can't move forward in your life until the doctor tells you what to do next. So you wait for the next scan results- 2 weeks. Those are a little unclear. Call and schedule a PET. Another 2 weeks. Then an additional week for the results. Let's confer with a surgeon and see what she thinks. The appointment is a month away. Should I be concerned about not getting in before then? No, your oncologist says, it's fine. So you wait a month. And then the surgeon wants to talk to another surgeon and also to a radiologist. 2 weeks again. Wait for surgery. Wait for radiation. Wait and see if the chemo worked. Wait, wait, wait.
Suddenly, you look around and a year of your life has gone by. When am I gonna have an answer? you think. But there is no answer. That's what none of us got the first time we went through treatment. There are no answers. If the doctor had one, he would give it to you. But he is making an educated guess and gathering all the info he can to do the best possible job at that. And let's face it, you just really want to know if you're going to live. And for how long. That is all it boils down to. And there is no one who can tell you that.
So you eat lunch. You watch some t.v. You try to fill your time with whatever you can until the next appointment. But are you living? I didn't. I don't think I lived a single day in between my diagnosis and my official declaration of being N.E.D. I survived. I relied on everyone else for what was going to happen to me, and as the treatment began to take a toll on my body, I began to rely on others to take care of that, too. I fought it for as long as I could, but then it felt inevitable. Can you wash my hair? Help me get upstairs? Pull me up out of bed? Change my clothes? Help me clean myself up? I threw up again, will you bring me a towel? Do you see my pain meds? How am I going to get to the hospital on Thursday? Do we have any soup? I can only imagine what the weight of caring for me must have felt like. It must have been smothering. And me- I was fading into a ghost, having lost everything that I considered a normal life. I hated myself for trying to fight it. I hated how stubborn I was. I hated my body. I hated myself for having succumbed. I hated myself for not being stronger. I hated myself for hating myself. My body was so torn up physically, there was no hope for me to maintain my emotional health. My mental outlook had completely deteriorated with my ability to take care of myself. So this holiday season, I look back at all of it with an honesty and empathy that has taken me literally years to muster. Did my life stop the day I was diagnosed? No, but it did not begin, either. I guess I say this because if you open your heart and love cancer (how bizarre does that sound?) for what it is, it will, in time I think, allow you to find the things that matter most. And that truly is a gift. But that is not an easy journey. Or it wasn't for me, at least. I am so much smarter now. I know that now, I would be a much more active patient- doing my own research and making my own decisions. But even if all that was taken away, even if one day I was rendered completely helpless, I would still be smarter. Because I'd know the truth, and the truth is this: it doesn't matter. It is what it is. Life is life, and you better just take it for what it is. Even when we're "healthy," we can try and fool ourselves into thinking our future is a sure thing, but it never is. It never was, and it never will be. Today is what we get. And that's it. You better make it all it can be and accept it for what it is, 'cause it's all you get.
A while back I wrote about how low I've been. I guess it's time to come clean and just be open about everything. In a way, I look back on this blog and it seems it didn't exist before October 11th of this year. It seems my whole life kinda started the day I really realized how depressed I was. It became about moving forward and getting healthier mentally. Which is good. But to be honest with you, it's sometimes exhausting, too. Maybe I don't have to tell you because you've faced the process before, but if you haven't, let me just break it down for you: it is so overwhelming to look forward into your life and see that the process you are going to have to go through is painful and arduous, but most of all that it could take years before it does not feel like a daily, forced chore.
That being said, irregardless of how bad coming to grips with everything and facing my demons sucked, being healthy and happy has become my number one priority, and so I have learned to love it like a 12-step recovery junkie loves their meetings. It is painful but somehow wonderful. I have begun my journey. I guess that I think part of that journey is telling everyone about it (to keep myself on track), and that include you. See, the deal is, when all of this went down with cancer and I became so dependent on everyone else for my physical care, I somehow got things mixed up and allowed my emotional well-being to be their responsibility, too. I made my happiness dependent on them. Because my happiness was completely in their hands, I had to become really controlling of everyone and everything. I wanted to be happy so I tried to make sure they made me happy. It sounds crazy and it's kinda hard to explain, but that, in a nut-shell, is what has been dragging me down: the exhausting, white- knuckled approach to life. You are probably thinking, as a good friend said to me, "Honey, cancer didn't teach you that trying to control life doesn't work?" Well, no, I guess not.
So that's me and where I am. Tomorrow starts a new year and it seems appropriate as I've already begun the transformation of a new and better me. I think the best part about all of this is the humility it has brought me. Nothing in my life has been as freeing as it has been to allow everyone to see how flawed I am. It is truly amazing to be as transparent as I can be and still be accepted and loved. I never want to be the other way again.
So, after that 8 minute rant, I was really leading to this: I learned it's okay. If I am or you are depressed, it's okay. If I can't or you can't seem to pull yourself out of a funk, it's okay. We don't have to hide it or be ashamed of it. A few weeks ago (the day after my birthday) I said I'd finally come close to forgiving myself for my dichotomy. Now I'm like, forgive? For what, being human? Where in the world did I get that stupid idea.
Anyway, that's the dirt. Now you know. Someone call National Enquirer! :)
So on this Dear God site, people write in their prayers. It's a crazy experience to read other people's intimate prayers, especially the ones from people who are so hurt and so angry. And there are a lot of those, as, in these days and times, you might expect. But then, I came upon this amazing prayer below, which totally lit up my day. And he's here in Dallas! One more reason to be happy, people. I am overwhelmed by the humility, patience and love he has for each moment and for himself. I can only aspire to such, but maybe one day...
Dear Universe,
It is with a heavy, exhausted heart that I say, “thanks”. Deep in my heart I know that I am feeling exactly what I need to, in order to move into my next moment. Sometimes I try to force myself into the next moment quicker than time (your heartbeat) wants me to. You want me to enjoy and learn from each beat. I try, each day, I try. I am also trying to not turn the hands of time backwards. I know, each moment is precious, and I thank you for that. That, and all of the people, experiences, good things and bad things that are part of each moment, I am thankful. From these people and things I learn - I try to take the good forward and leave the bad behind. Thank you Universe for all of these things, including my very tough day today. I love you and me.
... but kinda in a good way! Hard to explain. Anyway, 2 quick things and I'll post again this week. First, thanks to Anonymous for posting the Percepcion unitaria page. I'm not finished checking it out but I'm finding it all very interesting. Good stuff so far and I always appreciate anything that may make my life better.
Also thanks to Gil J. for letting me know about this melanoma awareness video on Johnson & Johnson's Youtube Health Channel.
And here's a tip for all of you out there looking to write a song parody for the very talented (yuk) Weird Al Yankovic: some of the songs from the Johnson & Johnson Youtube channel may be your golden ticket. I mean seriously. A nurse video with a bad wannabe-Indigo Girls' background song? I don't even know what to do with that.
1. There are no words to tell you how beautiful every single street is. 2. Everyone there loves their dog as much as I love mine, which is an incomprehensible amount of love. 3. That whole French-people-are-rude-thing really may be a myth. I'm not kidding. 4. Ten hours on a plane is a small price to pay for the experience. Even when the plane is 85 degrees and there are 30 drill team members in blue eyeshadow on your flight. That should tell you how awesome Paris is. 5. If I lived there, I would go to church all the time. I went to Notre Dame three times. And that doesn't even include all the other churches I went to. 6. It is very cold in November. Like really very cold. 7. The Arc de Triomphe rocked my world.
I may be French. It's true. Or maybe I'm just having vision of gaufres.
It seems unfair that I am posting about an amazing trip I'm beginning today, and posting about more cancer nonsense at the same time. But I guess this is life. As far as me, I am noticing every day a new microscopically small healthy behavior showing up without me even having to think of it. Today I noticed that I didn't back down on a comment I made. Not such a big deal in the big scheme but it meant a lot to me. So bit by bit I'm climbing out of the hole.
Please keep these peeps in your thoughts and prayers if you pray; they are all going through their own battles right now: One Tough Chic, Linda, David & Tara, Baldylocks, Becky, Bekah, Allison. All of these brave souls are in the blogroll to the right. They have all been inspirations to me and they at least deserve this small shout out. I'd appreciate you doing the same.
And, in case you haven't read, Eric lost his fight with melanoma. I know I am late posting this. I regret being so late to comment on it and it brings to mind other deaths I've known about, even recently, that I didn't post on. I guess I have been taking a new route of giving myself all the time I need to deal with things. When a friend of mine died a year ago because she never overcame the side effects of Interferon, I didn't post anything at all. I'd like to say it was to maintain her privacy but in reality I just didn't know what to say. I guess now I'd just like to say that it's no secret how hard any of this is. But we have been given the gift to not have to deal with any of it alone. Alone, however, I think, is how we find we have the strength to keep going.
Thanks for keeping these folks in your thoughts. Because I'm a teacher, I'm thinking of positive reinforcement for you. Perhaps if you do really well, I'll bring back pics from Paris!
When I read back over my entries on this blog in the last 2 years, my first instinct is to judge myself for the ups and downs I have been through. I think to myself about all the times I thought I was on the right track when actually it was a minor lift in mood. I get so angry about being so naive when I was, in fact, so far away from any semblance of healthy. But I think the truth, and I hope that I'm not just being overly optimistic here, is that all of those minor lifts have led me to the bigger insights I have been working through this past couple of months. I hope that it's true that all that work I did then laid the groundwork for this tougher stuff I'm dealing with now. For the most part, things are better. I can see real, legitimate, healthy thoughts and behaviors beginning to creep into my daily life. I feel more positive than I have in a very, very long time. And this positivity feels so different than the things I felt and wrote about before. This positivity is from my core, not just a surface-level fix I've managed to maintain for a bit. I feel like I have CHANGED. The kind of change that only an earth-shattering event can do for you. And, unlike cancer, I hope that this change brings me peace with reality, rather than hatred of it. I am learning to come to terms with this: I am both weak and strong, independent and needy, beautiful and ugly, peaceful and angry, sad and happy. I am such a dichotomy, and for some reason I have not been able to forgive myself for that before now.
But the change has not come without a lot of pain. I still fight that regularly. Reality is so very painful sometimes. It is frightening how badly I can want and will myself to have something, and how often I can let myself be open to it happening, literally putting myself in the exact position I need to be in to receive it, and be denied time and time again. At some point I have to muster the self respect to let go and accept that this thing I want so badly may never come to me. And if that is so, I need to make the choice to either accept it and go on living the way I am now, or decide I deserve a better life, not always waiting for what I think I need. These are the kinds of changes I'm talking about. These are not just tricks to see the world in a better way this week, these are totally new eyes with which to see the world. They don't always feel like they fit or belong to me, but they are mine now, nonetheless, and I am learning to love them. Because they were waiting for me the whole time.
I guess the news is that I'm doing better. I had lots of good folks writing and calling me to check in and I appreciate all the concern. It's always encouraging to see how much you're thought of. I feel very loved.
I wish that I could say everything I've been going through is a big misunderstanding but the truth is I've taken a long, hard look at myself and realized that a few too many things I thought I was doing right were in fact very wrong. It's strange when things feel like they are so right and then one day you suddenly find that no matter how right they feel, they just plain aren't. I realize also that it seems I'm talking in riddles here but you just have to go with me on this one. It's a very humbling experience to say the least. I have been doing things a certain way for many years now and it is a big change for me to suddenly face a different direction and do things totally different. I am working through it and can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's just a very tiny light and a long, long tunnel. But a light, nonetheless.
It's also come to my attention that things I thought I got over years ago, things that I have worked through and found my footing on began to creep back up in my life. I am told that being very ill and vulnerable and weak can cause you to relapse like this. I never thought that would be possible because I spent so much time correcting these things years ago. But issues from a long time past are in my face once again, and I can only pray that this time they will be easier to conquer. I guess that's it for now. Thanks again for all your thoughts and prayers and I promise to check in again soon.
Probably so, huh. You've probably had an inkling all along. Looking back, I don't know how I didn't know. But a certain turn of events within the last 2 weeks left me standing completely still in the middle of the day and saying, "I feel like I have no control over my life."
What a revelation.
How is that possible? Aren't I the ONLY one who has control of my life? Am I just now feeling this or have I felt this (and lied about feeling it) since May 22, 2005, when I was diagnosed with cancer? The answer is I honestly have no idea. But now the truth is in front of me, and I can look back and see that so much of what I've felt for a very long time has stemmed from this. Maybe not since diagnosis, but at some point since then.
So what does this mean? I guess I don't know. I can tell you how I feel: like I've just moved into a big, new flat and am all ready to start fixing it up but have no idea where to begin. Then I have waves of complete exhaustion and I think, "Are you kidding me? How are you going to do all this?"
And, of course, I feel like an idiot that I've just now realized something that I've felt for a very long time.
Suddenly everything looks very different to me. Like I said, it varies in waves between bright, sunny skies and ominously dark clouds. I am smiling one moment, completely happy, and then crying for no apparent reason for hours at a time. I have people all around me; more support than I've probably had in my whole life, and yet I somehow allow myself to feel very alone and small.
And then I think again of the big, new place and how cool it will be to live there in just a few weeks or months. I have to admit that I'm so self-absorbed I can hardly stand myself, but I'm not sure if there's any other option now. I just want to feel really, really safe again in my own skin. That's my first goal.
In college, I wrote a short story one time about a road trip I took by myself. On the Road had always been a favorite, and when plans fell through with everyone else for a trip we'd planned, I decided to just go solo. I ended my travel story (of course) with a bit of cliched enlightenment:
"... after a few states and many miles, here's what you come to figure out: people are just people. Some live close to the freeways in dustier and smaller houses, and some live in big, lonely ones that can only be found while exasperatedly lost in the suburbs. But there's a vein that runs through all of us, whether we dare to admit it or not, and the blood that's pumping in it is our commonality. We're more alike than we are different. For a lot of us, that's scarier than the thought of being isolated. Because to admit that we're all just people is to dive into a place where others understand and have felt our own vulnerability, and where we can share little delights (like traveling to a new place) and make those damn emotional investments that our paranoia tells us are the next heartbreaks. We can't view all of life as simply as we see the houses from the freeway, but we can step back and take solace in the fact that no matter our differences, people are still just people."
It's true, isn't it? How often have you met someone famous and walked away thinking about how surprisingly normal they were? I have to remind myself of that all the time, because somehow just because a person is legendary or well-known doesn't mean they don't struggle with all the things the rest of us struggle with. No matter who you are, life is good, and life is hard.
If you life here locally, you probably saw on the news about Erika Clouet dieing in a car wreck on Labor Day. Erika was a teacher at my school. She was a newly-wed July bride, and she was 24 years old. I didn't know her well at all, and in the 2 years I knew her we probably talked a couple dozen times. But I will say that she was one of those people that you think about being a genuinely nice person. The wedding picture they keep posting in the news is one she never saw; her wedding pictures arrived the day after she and her husband were hit and killed by a drunk driver. This was the driver's fifth DUI. I don't really know if her death is any more or less tragic than the other young people I've known whose lives were taken by cancer, but it's really not the point. I just know this: Life is hard.
You've probably seen that Leroy Sievers died, too. It's a terrible loss. It's all so terrible I can hardly stand it sometimes. I try not to think it's unfair or it shouldn't be this way, but over the couple of years that I read his blog, I felt I had come to really know him, and his dieing left a surprisingly sharp pain. He made a conscious effort to be very open and honest about his feelings on his blog I guess it's no surprise that so many people have expressed feeling this way. Through his journalism he had covered 14 different wars, including Afghanistan and Iraq, but he said that his blog was the most important work that he'd ever done. He opened up a small piece of society by starting a converstaion about sickness and death, and he united thousands of survivors and caregivers under the guise of his daily posts. When someone asked him what he got out of his sometimes heart-wrenching blog, he wrote, "A daily reminder that none of us walks this road alone. What could be better than that?"
In the last 6 months, as he neared the end, it was more and more difficult to force myself to read his posts. When he sold his Jeep, that was when I knew he had come to terms with the end, and I stopped reading all together. I'm sure that some of this stemmed from my similar experience with my dad, who did a pretty good job of keeping hidden how ill he was until close to the end. The little clues would slip out, like red flags, telling me it was time to see things for myself. Regrettably, I didn't pick up on these fast enough. Fathers always seem so invincible, I guess. And like Leroy, to think of them as just as vulnerable as the rest of us will nearly break your heart.
The last few years, sometimes the loss has seemed like too much to bare. Losing Leroy, this person I never talked to, never looked in the face, never once met was not as sad to me as the other people I've had to say good-bye to, but I think served as a reminder that these things never stop happening. The end of life is an essential part of it, and though some of us are able to live in a world where reality is far enough out of eye-sight to ignore it, it still continues on. Life is tough.
Strangely enough, during this weird time, I've recently seen that I've taken a step onto a new emotional plain in my personal life. It has been a long time coming but I've progressed to a level of openness and vulnerability that I haven't found myself on in a very long while (think high school). That sounds much more dramatic than it is, really, because if it weren't for my seemingly unexplained feelings of fear then I probably wouldn't have even realized that I was in a new place that I didn't allow myself before. When these things happen it is always both shocking to find one's self here and simulateously frightening how long I denied being elsewhere. And that I denied that I could actually allow myself to love more than I did before. As many times as I've written here that there is little other choice than to live this way, it is definitely easier said than done.
Believe it or not, I think this is the "life is good" part; this is the silver lining. Like Doc Paskowitz said, "It's easier to die when you have lived than it is to die when you have not. So I say to all young people: go make beautiful memories. And when the time comes for you to go, you will not be alone." It's so difficult to get to the edge and take the leap, but it's also what life is about. So I'm trying to follow my own advise and to live in spite of the fear, in spite of the pain, and in spite of the sadness.
With the death of those around me, I want to soak up the grief and live with it, because fearing it and stuffing it down will only kill a tiny part of me. But I also want to know, at the end of my life, that I didn't allow that sadness and fear to stop me from feeling the love that I feel today. Yes, it's the scariest thing I've ever felt, because it means if I'm hurt, it will nearly devour me. But I guess you can't only make good memories. So in order to make any memories at all we have to embrace it all, even the darkness. And look for and feel the connectness between us all. That is what keeps us sane. That is what living is.
The title means what, you ask? It's only there as part of my obsession with Queen of late. But why I'm really here is to catch you up with this info:
1. Check out the new blogs listed to the right-- I've gotten a few emails in the last month informing me of blogs dealing with melanoma and I'm happy to pass on the word (including one at the Ulman Cancer Fund by our own Redheaded Bald Chick!) If you find any others you'd like to promote, be sure to send them my way and I will add them to the roll doggettes.
2. I also heard from Andrea at Paula's Choice and she was gracious enough to write and offer all of us a sneak peek at Beautypedia.com! All you have to do is go to the site, click on subscribe, and enter “blogfree” as the coupon code. No credit card required! You get 2 free days to search over 40,000 cosmetic reviews and browse around the site. Yay! They are also starting a blog at Paula's Choice and are asking readers to advise as to what they believe it should include. Feel free to comment here. They also have a Facebook page is you want to reach them there. A special thanks to Paula Begoun and Andrea.
3. And it's about f%@#ing time, but finally there is a major movement to raise funds for cancer research. If you've been unda dat rock, let me just tell you a little about Stand Up to Cancer, which even has a catchy little acronym, SU2C, as all good causes should. Actually, just watch this, because they say it better than I can:
If our government didn't have their heads up their a&&es, then this wouldn't really be necessarily, but nonetheless people have decided not to sit around and wait for things to get better, and rather have made the decision to do something about it. Good for them! Gandhi would be so proud.
It's not too late to give or to pass on the message! SU2C.org
4. This is completely uncancer related, but do you know about Shock Of Pleasure? Bobby's long-time friend started the group, and they've really taken off here in Dallas. We went to a show the other night and I asked Kelly, the beautiful lead singer, to sign my boob. Of course, she said "Yes!" and that I was the first boob she's ever signed. Wow! I deflowered her. Anyway, check out their stuff on iTunes. I'm not typically an electronic music lover, but this stuff is way cool. Great for those chilled evenings.
5. John McCain's melanoma is in the news a bit, too.
6. There's also some potentially good biomedical news about melanoma treatment.
friend FOREVER. 
