Stupid Cancer

I wore this Stupid Cancer wristband during my surgery as a good luck charm. Still in hospital but hope to be freed soon. Flipping the bird at cancer, not you...

more things on strings

I awoke to find this balloon hovering suspiciously close to my face, obviously mocking me with its grotesquely stretched mylar smile. 

I punched it.

[EDIT: Don't get me wrong, I love smiley balloons! Keep them coming!]

It's like looking in a mirror...

If you're curious to know what I look like right now in ICU after Friday's surgery, this Iranian space monkey depicts me perfectly, from the velcroed-in leg restraints and little socks, to the bald head and sad face of pain and pure terror of his fate in life. Thank you space monkey, for making my life a little easier. Now I don't even have to take a picture.

Saddest picture ever.

Monkey business aside (yah I went there), surgery went fantastically well and I am slowly healing. They took out what was left of my tumor, the lower right lobe of my lung, part of my diaphragm muscle, and scraped some cancer from the vena cava that leads to my heart. I've had an epidural & two chest tubes put in, and I'm of the opinion that three is enough for one lifetime. That shit HURTS.

It is very hard to walk due to weakness and shortness of breath, but I'm working with a physical therapist every day to strengthen my stamina. I'll be inpatient at SK for the next week.

I hope your fate is as good as mine, space monkey.

Wig Post

A good wig is hard to find, amiright?


This time around I'm really liking South Korean-made wigs from Gabalnara-- cute styles & a very realistic quality... you just have to look past the creepy "Ulzzang" faces.

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.

Lifelines

Here's the plan:

I am to get 12 cycles of chemo-- 2 weeks on, one week off, over the course of a year. I have 10 cycles to go. During this time, due to the Irinotecan,  I will feel weak, nauseous, and have extreme abdominal cramping. I've already lost most of my hair, so 2013 will be a relatively hairless year. I get infused from 9am-12:30 daily, and am then left to my own devises, which usually means sleep and netflix. I want to find income of some sort & am (very tentatively) considering re-opening my etsy shop & sewing up some samples.

My bills from the epic one-week uninsured stay at Bellevue add up to over $6,000... I haven't looked at all of them, to be honest. You'd think for 6k I'd get better inpatient meals than a corn muffin and a saran wrapped piece of american cheese on a styrofoam plate, as I was served for breakfast one day:

If you'd like to help out with my egregious debt to the City of New York Public Health Services, please click the donate button to the right-- I need all the help I can get right now and I left my shame at the infusion room door. 

I had to cut off my hair a few weeks ago & it was more emotional than I thought it would be-- presumably because I hadn't cut my hair since it started growing back in 2009. That hair represented 3 years of remission, now gone. I saved the braids, I'm not sure why. I labeled the bag "RIP Kaylin's remission, 2009-2012".  It was a private affair, no camera or chemohawk, which would've felt cheap and exploitative to my tresses this time around. Something has changed. I'm no longer documenting my treatment with nervous excitement, I don't feel like making fun of everything cancer-related. I should change the name of my blog to "Cancer is Annoying as Fuck, Please Leave Me Alone (the cancer, not you)". 

pre cut

back to bald

So here I am in purgatory again, the space between. I'm resigned now to the idea that my cancer is a chronic affliction, something I will have to deal with on and off until I die. I am a professional cancer patient. This is my fate. On my left hand my lifeline splits dramatically in half, with each end arching in different directions, away from each other . When I was a kid I wondered what this meant-- would I be in a car crash half way through my life? Would I almost die? The thought was terrifying. Now I know: it represents life before cancer, and with cancer.

Now I just need to learn to live with it. 

please let this be true.