mtv is using my golden tears to raise cancer awareness, and I'm ok with that.

After the surgery last month I had to learn to walk again without part of my lung & diaphragm. The very first day they had me sitting up. The second day I took my IV pole, two vacuum-suctioned chest tubes, a portable motor that sounded like a shop vac and 3 nurses in tow for a walk (if you could call it that) down the ICU hallway. We even tried climbing stairs, but the tubes from my IV only allowed me to take 3 steps up, which I think would be manageable for even the most feeble degenerates among us. I stopped practicing the stairs after that. But I kept walking, and 3 or 4 days later I was doin' laps like lance armst--- I mean, like a pro. It's amazing how fast the body can recover.

After I was discharged from the hospital I went right into chemo cycle #5. I think the extra pain meds have made me extra nauseous this time. There are lots of other "extras" that pain meds give you, like extra hard poop. extra heavy eyelids. extra street cred. extra helpful friends.

For the last few days, Jon & I have been editing the final version of the comic. It's come so very far from the hair-brained scheme we hatched years ago. I had time to kill in the waiting room before one of my (many) doctor appointments, so I pulled out a test-print and started to read. In no time I was sucked into a colorful world that echoed, in a surreal way, the hospital around me and issues I was immediately facing. Jon's drawings are delightfully intricate; you can take your time on each page and notice new details with every read. I was disappointed when  my name was finally called, because it meant a transition from this magical cancer-comic world to real world-- and real cancer. Bottom line: great for making hospitals more bearable. I can't wait until issue #1 is finished.

I suppose I should mention: I will be featured on Season 2 World of Jenks on MTV, which premiers this Monday. The crew followed me for a year as I moved from San Francisco to NYC to pursue my career and a cancer-free fresh start. I'm horribly embarrassed about the whole thing, but I remind myself that I participated in this project to promote young adult cancer awareness and issues of survivorship. When I was first diagnosed I felt so shamefully alone-- my cancer happens to one in a million, and it's even rarer in young adults. The prognosis is grim, but there are a few survival success stories out there if you look hard enough. I wanted so badly to find someone I could relate to, someone to learn from, some lucky soul who had found the light at the end of the IV drip and was ok now. I wanted to be ok too, someday. What I needed was empirical hope. I needed proof through personal experience that my cancer was survivable, that pain is surmountable, that the future is inevitable. I needed accounts of young adults overcoming the physical & emotional upheaval of cancer so that I could be better equipped to navigate my own tumultuous journey. Trouble is, until very recently, people have rarely been encouraged to open up (I mean really open up) about Cancer due to negative social stigma, fear of vulnerability or judgment, or outmoded cultural mythologies of illness. Eff that, let's talk about it! Let's set the record straight and help the newly diagnosed. Empirical hope, knowledge, camaraderie-- this is what I wish to give others by sharing my story with MTV.

Hope creates strength, and with strength we can survive. to ride ziplines.

chronically chillin'

It's so exciting to see the amount of support that our comic project is getting! A BIG THANKS to everyone that has become a backer so far. Every time I see a new donation in my inbox I jump for joy. Someone even donated in palindrome! mmm symmetry. 

Today I want to talk about chronic pain (again, forever, we are always together).  I don't think people talk about it enough, considering how drastically pain can effect daily life. Are young adults too embarrassed? I am. I've always been the independent perfectionist personality type, so admitting to people that I can't handle the physicality needed to do something is always heartbreaking. Often I don't admit my pain and trudge on-- a decision I sorely regret the next day.

Currently I have a friend staying with me that wants to go on all of the amazing tourist excursions one takes while visiting NY-- and I fear I just don't have the energy.

Chronic pain steals your energy and holds it hostage. You've got to ration. If my friend wants to go to the MET & Natural History Museum, (which I'd love to see, btw) I have to plan my energy/pain needs for the day. I have to rest the whole day before, and whole day after.  I can't just decide that morning that I'm going to go. It's hard to explain to "normal" people, because I used to be "normal" and I miss the freedom it implies, even though most people take it for granted.

Imagine feeling exhausted 24/7 from the drugs you take to manage your pain, which is also present 24/7. Now imagine doing everything you do in normal life-- walking to get groceries, working overtime, entertaining friends, cleaning the bathroom, cleaning yourself. Chronic pain turns all of these menial tasks into colossal events that must be planned for. And I really, really dislike planning!

Awhile back I found a superb explanation of this dilemma from a woman living with lupus. You can easily substitute lupus for cancer or chronic pain in her example. If you are struggling to understand the needs of anyone living with chronic illness, especially young adults, I highly recommend reading this "spoon" analogy, cheesy as it might be. Here is an excerpt:

"It's hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day’s plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing [sic] a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count “spoons”."

My point is that I don't have enough spoons to go to the MET today, even though I would like to. It's impossible to understand living with chronic pain if you haven't before-- but it's important to try to understand those who do, and take it into consideration when you're with them. Not in a verbose sickly-sympathetic way, but just... keep them in mind. Us chronic pain sufferers are REALLY good at hiding it.

pain for the holidays

Since I forgot to renew my opiate prescription before I left for the holidays, and since I am subsequently curled up in the fetal position at my mom's house unable to move from excruciating pain and withdrawal symptoms (watery eyes, hot flashes & chills, MONDO headaches, excessive yawning), I thought I'd post about pain.

Chronic pain. The thing that follows after cancer, but no one seems to talk about. The thing that plagues my everyday life, but doctors can't seem to figure out. Chronic pain is eating up my life.

Now, everyone's physiology and background is different. I only speak for myself. I'm sure there are miraculous people out there that go through chemo, surgery, and radiation relatively unscathed and untouched. Cancer treatment lite, I like to call it. If you fall into this category-- lucky duck-- just scroll on down. If not, let's share our experiences with chronic pain instead of masking them, as young adults tend to do in an effort to be "normal" within their peer group. Perhaps the more dialogue is opened, the more physicians and loved ones will be able to understand and help us.

My chronic pain seems to be twofold:

I have deep somatic pain due to scar tissue in my hip, where the tumor was, and right clavicle/shoulder, where lymph nodes were plucked during the Thyca surgery. This pain is dull, aching, and absolutely unrelenting. This is my main issue and the thing that compromises my quality of life the most. When untreated by opiates, as it is now, this pain consumes me-- I can't focus on anything else. I avoid physical activity completely. It just does not let up. It's maddening, I tell you.

[Scar tissue from radiation has also caused a myriad of problems for my digestive system and bladder... but that's another painful story for another painful day]

I also have neuropathic pain all over my body, though mostly felt in my joints, presumably from 8 months of chemo toxins damaging the protective sheaths around my nerves. This pain feels sharp, stabbing, and sometimes tingly. It's rather unpredictable-- I get sparks of pain everywhere from my chin to my toes. I also experience neuropathic pain around my neck incision, where nerves have been cut & damaged. The skin there is numb to the touch, but even gentle pressure creates a sharp pain.

To combat all of this I use daily opiates, light stretching, medical marijuana, and hot baths. The opiates, obviously, are the only thing I've found that allow me to live a semi-normal, semi-pain-free existence. Unfortunately, these have all sorts of drawbacks, including increased dependency, side effects (I hate the grogginess), and nasty withdrawl symptoms. Plus, they're pricey. You need insurance. You need employment. You need a functional body to stay employed. You need opiates. Etcetera.

Until now, I had no idea just how much I rely on those little orange pills to function.

Do you have chronic pain, even years after treatment? How do your doctors respond to your concerns? Have you found anything that particulary works for you?

is this my daily dose of happiness?

My doctors hope so.

The ubiquitous Prozac pill- do you recognise it? I have graduated from the green-and-white 20mg to the more formidable orange-and-blue 40mg. I like the new color; it reminds me of Karl's s/s 2007 pill dresses for Chanel. No doubt he designed the collection with "afflicted" society darlings in mind, but it would be equally fitting for any cancer-afflicted fashionista.


(feel free to gift this charm bracelet to me any time ^_^)

My history with antidepressants is a long one- I started having intense bouts of depression in my late teens/early 20's, presumably when hormones kicked in with a steel toe and sent my body and mind awry. I call these bouts "The Black Hole"-- it is exactly what it sounds like-- being sucked into an enormous vacuous hole of anxiety and self-worthlessness, drowning in it, feeling the weight of entire universes collapsing on top of you... the usual. Whilst in the hole I lose all of the grounding perspective I'd normally have in day-to-day life. I want to die at that moment, things are so painful. I'm well aware that it's all in my head. Over time I've learned to bear it, let it run its course like a fever, and in a few days I am usually feeling better.

These little pills are my daily bread. They help patch up the holes.

Listen to your body, not your doctor.

Scan Results: NED. Woo! 8 months cancer free!

This hospital trip was slightly better. I was able to hold it together until the Asian lady at the bakery refused to serve me. Isn't that always the way it goes? You keep a straight face throughout the day, and then the tiniest insignificant obstacle causes a full blown shit-fest.

I gritted my teeth through the port flush. I asked my Onc about disability options and was denied (damn kids trying to abuse the system). I voiced my concern over worsening chronic pain in my hip/back/everywhere and, because my scans are clear, was not-so-subtly accused of opiate dependency (damn kids trying to abuse the system!). Because scans tell ALL, right? If the scan says I'm not in pain, I guess I'm not in pain.

So, feeling defeated despite the joyous news of N.E.D, I sought respite via coffee and pastries at the Kaiser cafe area. I order my shit. I have no cash. I am three dollars away from being able to use my debit card. "No card, under limit!!!" militant Asian lady snaps at me. I am unwilling to buy 4 more muffins just to be able to use my card. Defeated again, I ask, "can I have a cup of water?" She slams a little paper cup on the counter. "Fifty cent!!"

I stare at her. Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me. You will not give a cancer patient a mother fucking dixie cup? And then I lost it. Like, completely lost my shit and sat bawling, hungry, and humiliated in the cafe until I could pick up my prescription.

Moral of the story: If you are poor, always carry cash. If you are a cunt, don't work at a hospital.


So, back to my Onc visit. Now that I have hair and look like a normal twenty-something, I am noticing a massive amount of skepticism and disbelief when it comes to medical issues. There seems to be a general misconception that young people can't be trusted. We just want drugs and attention. People, even medical professionals, fail to realize that Chemo completely rapes and pillages your body, causing long-term issues unrelated to cancer. Chemotherapy annihilates cancer (if you're lucky) just as it annihilates the rest of your healthy cells.

If I were to listen to my Doctor, I would be taking Ibuprofen and hot baths for debilitating pain. I would assume the pain is all in my head. Which was exactly what I was told before my Cancer diagnosis.

I am angry about all of this. Livid. And I'm not quite sure what to do about it, suffice to say: Listen to your body, not your doctor. Do research yourself. Find your own solution. Make your own educated diagnosis. Get second and third opinions until you finally find someone who will listen. Don't sit back and suffer.



oh and p.s.- I'm still working on getting my computer fixed. Despite the rant above, I am so so happy to be in remission. I'll take my pain over cancer any day...