On Loose Stool and Gratitude

The weirdest thing about dealing with that 1-2 punch of a stomach virus and chemo was that my body was clearly not well. I needed fluids at Norris, I was vomiting and having diarrhea, and I was fatigued. Not well. Like, sick. I clearly remember being sort of dumbfounded by the whole thing even as I was going through it, wishing and waiting patiently for the day that the virus would let up (it lasted longer than the chemo side effects) and I'd get my strength back up to be my normal self again. I recall thinking of how wonderful it is that I'm able to drive to work and hit the gym every day (besides the few days I'm actually infusing), and that I fill my days with a ton of action and fun. I longed for the good old days of being the active, strong, and healthy person that I have known myself to be ever since that first surgery in September of 2010. This last little episode was the first time since my diagnosis that I was actually sick. I know that seems strange to say. I have cancer, after all, right? I had the gigantic Sugarbaker surgery, right? Wasn't I sick then, too? And how about this last surgery? And all the other 36 rounds of chemo preceding this one? Honestly, I never actually felt sick during those times. Sure, after the Sugarbaker surgery I was in pain -- mainly from my back and ribs that were pushed and prodded every which way during those 11 hours. And yeah, sometimes I feel a little draggy and gross after chemo. And of course, dealing with a huge incision scar after my last two surgeries wasn't 100% pleasant. But I always felt like I was in control of myself and that brighter days were certainly ahead. This time around, I couldn't really see the light at the end of the tunnel. I knew it would be there and that this virus would pass, but being back in the world of diarrhea and vomit reminded me too much of the days right before my first surgery. When I was the really ill WunderGlo who didn't even knew how sick she was (or what or who WunderGlo was). It was strange for me to experience my body doing the exact things I didn't want it to do. This realization about how I couldn't always put mind over matter was unnerving at the time, but now it's an important reminder to me about how fragile the human body is...how fragile my human body is. Here I was, running around town thinking I was the toughest, most disease-proof kid on earth (with the exception of cancer, of course), and boom: I got picked off by a stupid stomach virus. More than anything, the experience taught me that nothing -- not one moment of good health -- should be taken for granted. I can expect myself to be well, of course, and do everything in my power to make myself as strong and resilient as possible, but I should always be mindful of the extremely good fortune that is my overall health even in the midst of battling this disease. And I am. Over the last week and a half, I've been back on track and up to my old ways: drinking green juice, hitting the gym, working hard at O'Melveny and for The WunderGlo Foundation, and generally loving life. Along with some of my best buddies, I threw a massive Halloween party that we actually had to break up ourselves at 2:30 in the morning. I'm feeling better than ever. Truly, I am. The only difference is this: as I drive to work each day, belting out the lyrics to my favorite rap songs, I take a moment and give extra thanks for my life. As I do another hamstring curl or shoot another 3-pointer at the gym, I recognize what a blessing that moment and my ability to be a part of it really is. When I wake up each morning and pop out of bed like I'd been sleeping for days, I recognize that boundless energy and marvel at my good fortune. I know that my energy, strength, and overall health is a precious gift. A miracle. And now I'm even more aware of that fact and even more thankful for it. Who would have thought that a stomach virus could serve as a powerful reminder about gratitude? It just goes to show: not all puke is created equal.