On Fist Fights and Surgery

I've never gotten into a fist fight...and I've always wanted to.

Not to hurt someone else, of course, but to unleash. To fight a willing foe, who is dead set on hurting me, and to triumph. To use my strength and my will on something other than going to the gym, going to work, being a happy person, etc. These things don't actually test out those gut impulses. Isn't there something about a physical confrontation that shows you what you're made of? Courage, character, the "fight" you have within...yes, these kinds of things. You don't readily check these things when you've attended some of the swankiest schools in the country, live in a gorgeous loft in downtown L.A., work at your dream job, and have the best friends and family in the world. Who the heck would I be fighting? 

Every time I've gotten remotely close to a physical confrontation, the other person has backed away, run away, or made amends somehow. In truth, I've always pined away for a fight...somehow, somewhere.

Then, a couple of months ago, I found my willing foe. Not a human being or even an animal, but some chaotic cells in my own body. Ever since that day, I've lived my life with even more gusto than before because, finally, I have my fight. My opportunity to show myself and everyone else what I'm made of -- and it's been great. You never really know yourself or what you can do until you're pushed physically, emotionally, psychologically. And it's awesome to know that what I've always thought about myself -- that I've got more fight in me than anyone I know (sorry, everyone I know...I still love you) -- is actually true.

This morning, when I woke up, the first thing I remembered were my CT scan results. To know that I've fought this cancer and made it back down fills me with joy and a satisfaction that even a good fist fight couldn't bring. I'm so incredibly inspired to keep on fighting hard -- to continue eating healthily, sleeping well, exercising daily, staying unyieldingly positive and strong, and centering my mind and spirit...all in preparation to achieve this one singular goal: to beat this cancer to death. 

I found out my surgery date today after talking with Dr. Sugarbaker's wife, Ilse -- who does all of Dr. Sugarbaker's patient intake and runs the show in D.C. (my surgery is in D.C., at the Washington Hospital Center). After chatting a bit and letting her know how treatment was going, she said I sounded indestructible. I loved it. It's true!

Back to the surgery date. On February 3rd, 2011, Dr. Sugarbaker will open me up, pick the cancer out, pour the chemo in, and close me up. The surgery will take anywhere between 8 to 14 hours. I'm supposed to be in ICU anywhere between 2-5 days, and will spend another several days in the hospital.The point of this surgery is to take every single scrap of cancer out of my body and leave me cancer-free. In the process, I'm going to lose my ovaries, maybe some of my bowels, maybe a sliver of liver, and whatever else Dr. Sugarbaker thinks should go. 

Yes, this will be a big surgery. I've got my fists up, though, and I couldn't be more excited.