Wednesday, January 19, 2011

oh come on.

Heath Care Repeal vote passes house...

It's terribly ironic that this happened the day I was being interviewed about healthcare. I grew up with the idea that my culture inherently meant well and had some sort of moral compass. I am increasingly disillusioned. We are all so detached.

ok, I'm convinced that sharing my story will help somehow. I'll do it.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Kaylin: An Update

My doktor switched me to methadone for my chronic pain.

Scary sounding, huh?

The thing is... it really seems to be helping! I started last week, taking 10mg 3x a day. No crazy side effects yet besides grogginess, but of course, it's too soon to tell. @__@

I already have more energy, and I suspect it's because I actually woke up PAIN FREE today.

Thanks methadone!

here's my hair 20 months post chemo:

An opportunity has been presented to me that would allow me to share my story, in intimate detail, with millions of people. Is this good? Will this benefit anyone? Is my life even interesting enough to share? Hm. If the answer to any of those is "yes", then I'll do it.

Kickstarter: An Update

I am deeply humbled (and amazed) at the tremendous outpour of support we've received for this project. It reinforces the notion that we're doing something right -- something that will heighten awareness of the Young Adult Cancer community while simultaneously providing laughter and support. I am also REALLY FREAKING EXCITED!!! You'll be helping me focus on my health and creative output -- two things that I've been sorely missing lately.

I encourage everyone to keep spreading the word for this last week, even though we've reached our minimum goal. Every pledge helps us make it better -- I, for one, would LOVE to see this comic in full color!

Below is a picture of our workspace for the comic. We put up drywall to create a massive mood/story board to help us organize everything. Inspiration, jokes, working sketches, page layouts -- it all goes here. My sewing machines are even set up in the opposite corner! I look forward to sharing our entire process with you.

In conclusion: YYYYAAAYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Wednesday, January 5, 2011

oh and p.s.-- if we don't reach our funding goal in the next 14 days, the cancer comic won't be published, and the hundreds of fellow cancer-ites & YA foundations I have on my mailing list will not receive this awesome, wickedly funny, free work of art. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, share our kickstarter page! I still have a tiny bit of faith in humanity, don't make me lose it.

p.p.s-- I plan on drawing Dev in for a cameo.

He's still alive in my head & we're still on this journey together.

confessions of a cancer patient

I've always loved confessional writing. From the very first time I read Sylvia Plath whilst in the scalding throes of puberty, to my current obsession with Joe Orton's diaries and Jonathan Ames' 2009 show "Bored to Death"... I've always found truth more interesting than fiction. Maybe it's a generational thing, maybe it's because my parents were so tight-lipped about their own lives and I needed something honest to relate to. I'm not quite sure. All I know is... I like reading about people's problems.

My guess is you do too.

I've been thinking a lot about Devon lately. He came to visit me here by the beach around this time last year. I played him some Velvet Underground, my go-to crowd pleaser, and surprisingly, it was all new to him. I was glad he liked it. [side note: Muse is playing on Pandora as I type this, which was his favorite band. I take this as an omen that it's permissible to write further...]

Devon is dead now. There's nothing entirely significant about this fact-- he battled Ewing's Sarcoma on and off from ages 19 to 28, his health slowly declined as treatment options ran out, and he died. We related to each other in ways that no one else possibly could, forming our own secret cancer club. We were both realists with a dark sense of humor, prone to depression, suffering immeasurably due to one stupid translocated chromosome. Here's looking at you, 22.

Devon was a bitingly truthful writer with an ascorbic wit, authoring essays that sucked the reader into his own personal hell of illness and the oft bitter loneliness that goes along with it. Not the most pleasurable Sunday reading, but important, I think, to the collective experience of humanity. Devon SUFFERED with a capital S-- more that I can even imagine. He removed his writing from Planet Cancer sometime before his death, so it is impossible for me to re-read his thoughts, mind, soul. You see, Devon was very protective of his personal revelations, and told me he didn't think most people deserved to read them.

He did something that I find absolutely terrifying- he left without leaving anything. Except, I guess, an impression on me. His confessions are lost to us. I regret not encouraging him more towards his end of life. I was not as compassionate as I should have been.

My point? Talented insightful people die for no reason all of the time. I repeat: NO REASON. You've got to create your own reason to live. And you've got to live as if everything you care about is dying. Because it will, eventually.

I never even took a picture with Devon, just this ugly grey seascape that we both shared for a small moment.

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so... that was my confession for today.