Holidaze...

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and all of those other greetings I have so egregiously missed for the past few months of not blogging. I hope you will forgive me.

For those interested in the numbers: I am now almost done with chemo cycle 4 of 12, the scans are showing that the lung tumor is shrinking nicely and I have surgery scheduled for Jan 25th to remove it-- something I am thoroughly dreading. Afterwards, more chemo and radiation until September.

I am having a much harder time emotionally this time around. Something to do with the unspeakable bummer of a 3rd diagnosis while still in my 20's, feeling jaded and weak and furiously angry at my lot in life. An impalpable sense that I am being cheated wafting all around me at all times. I have no healthy way of disposing this anger and frustration so it comes out surreptitiously in the form of constant grumpiness, which I'm sure makes me a pleasure to be around. It's probably not you, it's me. I've been craving a lot of time alone and I'm not sure people understand why I need it, but I do.

Grumpiness aside, I am so incredibly grateful for the support system I have & all of the wonderful people who have donated money to help smooth the rough path to remission. These donations help me afford a car service to chemo in the mornings (so I don't have to take the crowded flu ridden subway), healthy groceries, and medical deductibles. I wish I could thank every benefactor personally but I realize the biggest act of gratitude is to keep writing and sharing-- the things that brought you here in the first place.

I'm planning a bunch of new posts soon, but to tide you over, I'd highly recommend checking out this book, The Emperor of all Maladies, a surprisingly intimate and fascinating amalgamation of case studies, the history of cancer, its significance in culture throughout the ages, and how modern cancer treatment came to be.

reflections and predictions

Since I was too busy with work to properly reflect on New Year's resolutions, I'll do so now.

But first, a little catch-up:

Monday was our a/w 2012 fashion show at Betsey Johnson, and sadly, my last day with the company.

backstage

this plaid was my doing (via style.com)

1/2 of the assistant design team

Working at BJ (however brief a stint it was) has proved to be one of the highlights of my life-- purely for the amazing people I've met, and the chance to know Betsey herself,  a personal idol of mine since I first resolved to navigate a sewing machine. How many people can say they've fulfilled a dream job they had at age 13? 

Unfortunately mine was a temp position, and my body ultimately couldn't sustain the 12 hour workdays for more than 5 months. The day after show I flew out to CA for scans to determine the source of my increased pain. I'll see my oncologist one last time this Tuesday for the results.

This break in Work brings up many questions about my future, which is something I am always reluctant to think about since Cancer. How can I find a job with a lower physical impact? How can I find a position that actually offers health coverage ( i.e., how to escape freelancer's purgatory)?  On a broader scale, what do I want to do with my life, now that I know my body can't quite hold up to 7th ave fashion industry? Now that I have crossed a life-goal off the proverbial list?

My thoughts scan back and forth between what has made me most happy in life, and what I could do to make others most happy.

Sometimes I settle on my past, on faults and bad coping mechanisms, or physical pain, but only briefly, as I remember all of the good I am capable of doing if I so choose. Without intending to sound melodramatic-- every single day is a struggle. But the days seem to keep coming.


So, what now?

el jay cross-post

Just a few pictures of the new room. Moved in Sunday. It's fascinating, how posessions can reaffirm one's identity SO strongly. You'd think that having your stuff packed away for a year and living elsewhere would somehow solidify your own self awareness, but au contraire! I felt lacking, I felt lost. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but as soon as I unpacked my knicknacks and books and clothes something clicked, I felt like Kaylin again, capital K, not cancer ass-kicker or patient or whatever. Just Kaylin, and I like this.



Grandma's cigar box and a clay skull sculpted freshman year.



my gents are happy to be out of that stuffy cardboard box.



12x12 living space SLASH sewing studio, not quite sure how I will make this work...


Fearlessness isn't a lack of fear, rather, it's a mastery of fear. I'm not afraid of much anymore. I am slightly afraid of cancer reccurance, if only for the inevitable decision I will have to make, but I am most certainly not afraid of death. Or pain. How many people, very honestly, can claim this at 24? I am content with the life I have lived because I've tried my very best to be an honest and passionate woman. I am broken, mentally and physically, but I'm confident that I'll adapt and overcome. Most importantly, I am happy right now. HAPPY. I will never ever ever ever EVER subject myself to the horrors of chemo and radiation and debhilitating surgery again. I gave it a sporting try but now I'm done. I am, um... master of my domain.