Chemo Round 31

I know I say this every time, but this round was the easiest ever. It’s really true, though! Treatment this week was a breeze. Let me tell you a little about it.

Instead of being the diva I usually am, I opted for infusion in a chair instead of a bed and was rewarded by having my favorite (and the best) Norris nurse take care of me for the day. My buddy Annette was at Norris, too, so I actually spent most of my time in the day hospital hanging out with her, her husband, and Dr. Lenz, who would occasionally pop in for a little chat with his gals. My friend from high school and her dad (who is also a patient of Dr. Lenz) was also in the house, so I chilled out a bit with them, too. You know you’ve been a cancer warrior for a while when chemo days are also social events. 

It has been a while. 31 rounds of chemo and almost two years since the day I was diagnosed. I wasn’t really supposed to live two years, so best believe I’m cooking up something epic for my cancer anniversary: September 19^th. I don’t know if the celebration will take its form in a conventional party, a mini-vacation, me doing something death-defying (besides surviving this disease, I mean), or me just running up and down the halls of O’Melveny cheering loudly for myself, but it’s going to be memorable.

Anyway, back to chemo.

The rest of the week went well. I focused on hydrating myself before, during, and after infusion time, and I think that added effort is why I didn’t get a headache this time around. I was fully prepared for it, but Tuesday and Wednesday rolled by and it never showed up. I took a solid nap on Wednesday afternoon, and by the time I woke up, I was back. Suited up and headed to work on Thursday, hit the gym on Thursday night, and headed to Vegas after that.

And here I am, in my hotel room in Vegas. I’m here celebrating one of my oldest friends, who just turned the big 3-0. I’m also celebrating the end of another great round of chemo. I’m celebrating life in general.

And I’m also celebrating the recent news of my CEA tumor marker. From an 8.2 to a 7.3. A statistically significant drop, and another smack in my larger smack down of cancer. 

I’m a happy camper: staying the course with my treatment plan (which is chemo until cancer says “Enough! I can’t take it anymore! I’m leaving, dammit!”), taking great care of myself, and living a normal life. Actually, a better-than-normal life. 

An Opportunity of a Lifetime

It's hard to explain, and I don't doubt that most people won't be able to see where I'm coming from, but my cancer diagnosis has given me the opportunity of a lifetime.

The opportunity to learn how to take care of my body: from changing my diet to making fitness a priority to managing stress to getting enough sleep. When I think of the way I lived before my diagnosis, it's no wonder to me that I wore my body down enough to allow cancer to get the upper hand. I am so much more educated about health and cancer and disease in general, and I never would have taken the time to learn and grow and change without my diagnosis.

The opportunity to see life from a different perspective -- a better perspective, in my opinion. You'd have to be with me all the time to believe it, but what I'm about to say is true: nothing gets me down. Don't get me wrong -- there are things that make me sad or mad. It hurts me when I hear of a fellow cancer warrior ailing or dying from the disease. It pains me to witness or hear about brutality, a lack of compassion, or ignorance winning the day or an instance of human interaction. Those big things aren't what I'm talking about. I'm talking about traffic, the restaurant getting your order wrong, freaking out about deadlines and obligations, gossip, and the like. Stupid stuff. Bullsh*t, if you will. I just don't get caught up in it anymore. At the end of the day, deadlines will get met, traffic will ease up, the restaurant will finally get my order right, and people will talk regardless of what we do or don't do. Boiling down my life to the things that matter most to me, focusing on and celebrating those things, and letting the rest fall away has been incredibly freeing. My diagnosis opened a door for me to a freedom of thinking and living that I hadn't yet recognized before it, and who knows if I ever would have.

The opportunity to help people in a deeply profound way. I've always wanted to help people, of course. That's why I became a lawyer and that's why I want to run for office one day. But I've never helped people like how I'm helping them now, through this blog and the Foundation. I don't think I can really tell you how much it means to me to talk to patients and their loved ones. People who are newly diagnosed, gathering information about their options, or about to start treatment or have surgery. People who want information, hope, and someone to relate to. I am honored every time someone reaches out to me. It is my true joy to share my story and experiences and helping people in the process. I talk with new people just about every week, and knowing that I'm making a difference in their lives is the biggest accomplishment of mine. Without my diagnosis, I never would have had this opportunity.

The opportunity to fight. Knowing that my life is on the line has filled me with a drive and focus like no other. Every single thing I do is done with the goal of beating cancer in mind. And not just beating the disease in my own body -- that's part of it, but not nearly all of it. I want to be a part of beating this disease by funding research to find the cure through my Foundation, by inspiring others to say "you know what, cancer? F*ck you. You're not going to ruin my life," and by spreading the word about how a vegan diet, regular exercise, and a positive attitude is part of living a healthy and cancer-free life. The fight, the competition, and the will to win is my fuel.

The opportunity to embrace life. One of things I've learned is that there's no need to "wait" for things to happen. Life is too short and unpredictable for that. If I want something, I go after it. If I think I should do something, I go do it. A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to go to trapeze school with the summer associates at O'Melveny. I didn't hesitate. And there I was, flying through the air, exhilirated. In a couple of months, I'll be jumping into a cage in the waters of the Farallon Islands, facing what is my biggest fear and one of my greatest loves: the Great White Shark. There's no reason to hesitate in this life, and if you do, you may miss some opportunities. I loved my life before my diagnosis and I always did things big in the past, but these days, I'm doing it even bigger.

I was 28 years old, newly married with tons of friends, back home in L.A., and at the start of a promising career -- one I worked my butt off in college and law school to achieve. Then I was thwacked on the side of the head with a Stage IV colon cancer diagnosis. In some circles, people may say that cancer messed up my life. But it didn't. My diagnosis gave me the opportunity of a lifetime: the opportunity to dig deep and find who I really am and how I really want to live. And I've seized that opportunity. And I couldn't be happier.

Chemo Round 30

Chemo Round 30 began last Monday and ended last Wednesday, and I was back at work and at the gym by Thursday. As each round comes and goes, I am ever grateful for my body's ability to take a lickin' and keep on tickin', and in grand fashion. To be back on my feet a day after being detached is a remarkable thing, and it makes me feel even more confident about treatment. Regardless of how many more rounds I need to tackle, I know I'm game for it. 

During this round of chemo, my appetite was great, GI function was spectacular, AND I learned a new secret about how to get by as unscathed by side effects as possible. Usually, the only side effect I experience on days 2-4 of chemo is a nagging headache which leads to a bit of lethargy. I mean, why exert yourself when you have a headache, right? I'm fortunate to say that this is the only thing I deal with during chemo weeks (aside from the inconvenience that is the bag o' chemo and a needle in my chest from Monday afternoon to Wednesday morning). But here's the secret I learned about the headache and its attendant "blah" feeling.

Whenever I feel the headache coming on -- usually when I've spent too much time on the computer/iPhone or when I've been on a conference call -- I just stop what I'm doing, get comfortable, close my eyes, and fall asleep. As simple as that. I napped like a champ on Tuesday and Wednesday of this week, and I think I slept over 10 hours on Wednesday night. Why go through the grossness when you can sleep through it, right? It's like a hangover. Just gotta sleep it off, man. You'd think my years of competitive drinking in college and law school would have led me to this conclusion much sooner, but no. But now I know! It took me 30 rounds to figure it out, but better late than never. All that sleep created a fully supercharged monster by Thursday, which accounted for my long day at work and tough workout at the gym. No matter how seasoned the cancer warrior is, there's always an opportunity to refine one's craft of kicking cancer's ass.

Another update: my tumor markers dropped again. Niiiiice. Not by much this time around, but hey, a lower number is a better number. Little by little, and no matter what it takes, I'm sending a very clear message to the disease in my body: your days are numbered, pal. Meanwhile, as my battle with cancer continues, I'm just going to enjoy the ride, help as many people as I can, sleep off the rough patches, and bounce back stronger than ever. 

Before I Tell You About the Event...

Check out The WunderGlo Foundation's official video!! Pretty awesome stuff. We unveiled it at the event on Thursday night (which was a smashing success, my friends).

The WunderGlo Foundation from Jordan Haro on Vimeo.

Oh Man!

So the big event is tomorrow, I've been flying around like a crazy woman taking care of every last detail for it, and I couldn't be more excited. In many ways, this will be one of the biggest nights of my life. And as far as The WunderGlo Foundation is concerned, tomorrow night IS the biggest night of its life.

I've still got way too much to do to reflect for too long, but I will take a second.

Wow. These cancer-killing adventures of mine sure have taken me to some incredible places and connected me with some amazing people. I usually don't have to pat myself on the back because everybody else is busy doing it, but I am proud of myself. To take a dire diagnosis like mine and to turn it into so much good is deeply gratifying. I am truly blessed and I am very, very grateful. And I'm making a difference. Seriously, how lucky could I be?

Oh, and yesterday I took a trapeze class. I told you I've been flying around like a crazy woman!

Wish me luck tomorrow. :)