Chemo Round 29

I know it's been a while since I've written, and I know that you all know that that means I've been zipping around -- feeling great, balancing all my careers, and loving life. It struck me the other day that on some cancer blogs, someone failing to update may mean that things aren't going so well. Just so you all know, that's never been the case with the WunderGlo blog and it won't ever be. I only fail to update frequently because I'm feeling so good and my days are so full. Having said that, let me catch you up on last week and tell you a little about chemo round 29.

The weekend before last, I was in San Francisco to throw a WunderGlo Foundation event in the city and to pick up a legal award a few days later. On National Cancer Survivor's Day, June 3rd, I took to the Armstrong Redwood National Forest for a lovely hike with my three nurses (and Winston and Oliver, too). Unlike the last time I hiked there, which was several months after my Sugarbaker surgery, I didn't get winded at all and even jogged the steep switchbacks of the trail, leaving my family in the dust (not literally -- I wouldn't do that to them!). I was impressed with my ability to navigate the challenging trail, and I was, as always, ever-grateful in my body's ability to be so strong. The next day, I took a nostalgia-filled trip to Stanford, my less-talked-about-but-still-fabulous alma mater. During my time up north, I spent time with my best friends who live up there, caught up with loads of other amazing people, and enjoyed every minute of it. It was a great trip.

With that Redwoods hike in mind and in an effort to make myself even fitter and stronger, I started a new and more aggressive fitness regimen upon my return to L.A. -- a 30-minute mix of hardcore weights and cardio with, of course, pick-up games of hoops following each session. If the soreness of my limbs and butt is any indication, I'm adding muscle to areas that I already thought were pretty buff. I can feel my endurance building as well, which is perfect since I'm just about ready to start swimming again (my incision wound seems to finally finally be completely healed and closed up). 

The rest of last week composed of about 12ish hours of work a day -- a mix of O'Melveny work and Foundation planning for our big event on June 21st. If you haven't gotten your tickets to The WunderGlo Foundation's First Annual Cancer Warrior Awards Dinner and Silent Auction yet, you'd better get going and do it! We're expecting 200 attendees (only 31 spots left), we're honoring four incredible organizations/individuals, and the evening will be a mix of extremely fun, beyond inspiring, and totally wonderful. Get your tickets at wunderglo.eventzilla.net. 

Of course, I made time to take care of myself in all of the madness. I slept well, worked out like a beast, and made sure I got my green juice and green smoothies. And my body responded well. My CEA tumor marker held firm (up to 8.6 from 8.4 but that's beyond insignificant and is considered the same number), and I have no doubt that this current round of chemo will knock it down even further. There is no doubt in my mind that I will outlast this disease. And for a sneaky a**, aggressive cancer that got such a strong foothold in my body in 2010, knowing that I'm in the driver's seat today is a beautiful thing.

So...chemo round 29. So far, so good. Infusion went smoothly and quickly yesterday, I had some good times with Dr. Lenz (seriously, this guy is one of my best friends at this point), and today, I'm feeling great. Usually I start to feel a little tired by this point, but I've made sure that I'm eating well and keeping hydrated, and I'm definitely noticing more energy and less "blah" today. I really do feel that I'm getting better at better at withstanding the side effects from chemo, and I'm noticing my body bouncing back quicker and stronger each time. It's a great feeling. Hopefully it won't take that long, but I know that I could stay on this chemo regimen for a long, long time. So cancer, you should probably just give up now because you're losing either way, pal. 

Oh, and I almost forgot to share my favorite part of yesterday -- the vegan meal provided by Norris! I've been working with Norris and Keck on revamping their menu to spotlight plant-based, whole foods options, and the first sprouts of that effort is a ridiculously awesome vegan offering at Norris's day hospital. A roasted eggplant sandwich, shiitake mushroom sushi, edamame, and wholesome jalapeno chips. Seriously, Norris? BRAVO. And that's just the beginning of The WunderGlo Foundation's collaboration with the best hospital in all of the land.

Killing cancer and enjoying the fruits of my labor (by the way, the vegan options were SOLD OUT by the time I got mine at 1pm -- nicely done, fellow cancer warriors!!) was a pretty phenomenal way to spend round 29.

All in all, this cancer warrior couldn't be happier. Life is good, my dear readers. For all of us!

Catching My Breath for a Second

Things are busy over here. This week has been a whirlwind of activity and I've blazed through it with energy that even surprises me sometimes. Later on today (Friday), I'm heading to San Francisco, where I’ll be hosting a WunderGlo Foundation event on Saturday night and receiving a legal award on Tuesday afternoon. I hit the road immediately after to head back home so I can make it for my O’Melveny basketball team’s first game of the season. And after that, I will get back to planning The WunderGlo Foundation’s biggest event of the year: our First Annual Cancer Warrior Awards Dinner and Silent Auction. It’s going to be such an awesome, fancy, inspiring event (full details on it later). It’s like planning a wedding, though. And two days after that epic event, we're having a launch party for my  “12 Rounds for the Cancer Warrior” t-shirt line. 

Meanwhile, I'm still taking great care of myself. 7 to 8 hours of sleep every night, gym every day, vegan eats and green smoothies, and vitamins and Lovenox shots. And I'm definitely not forgetting to savor each moment. I had an especially meaningful thought the other day that I wanted to share with you.

I took a break from my day and thought about what I had accomplished during the morning: O'Melveny work, Foundation planning, laughing with friends, zooming down the halls of the firm, etc. And I remembered that, just months ago, I was wearing a binder around my belly, pushing an IV pole, and carefully walking down the hospital halls at Keck/USC. Then I thought about when I couldn't walk at all in the days following my Sugarbaker surgery in Feb of 2011...when the best I could do was stand up in all my glory: with the chest tubes under my arms, JP drains in my gut, NG tube in my nose, catheter in my you know where, and IV line in my neck. 

Then I thought again about my busy morning and smiled. Damn, it feels good to be where I am right now. It feels really, really good.

Chemo Round 28

Chemo is even more fun when it’s preceded by good scan results, and that’s just what I got on Monday. Instead of beating around the bush, Dr. Lenz always just comes right out with the results, and Monday was no different. Right after giving me a big hug, he said, “Scan results are good” as he passed a copy of the report to my mom. We already sort of knew that they’d be good given my CEA number, which is still dropping – this time, from a 9.2 to an 8.4. But it’s always nice to have some reinforcement from the radiologist’s report.

We also discussed a small blood clot that I have in my jugular vein -- a likely result of having this port in my chest since October of 2010. Not a big deal re: the clot -- it's not in an especially dangerous place, it's small, I'm staying on Lovenox (of course) and Dr. Lenz isn't really concerned about it. I bet it's already resolved itself by now, but if it hasn't, it will soon. Bottom line is I get to work out just as I always have, so I'm a happy camper. 

Ok, back to the scan results.

Essentially, the tiny bits of disease in my intestines are still way too small for the CT scan to pick up – no shock there. The only suspicious stuff on my scan are some slightly enlarged lymph nodes, which are shrinking. So basically, there’s a little bit of disease just chillin’ in my belly, preparing for its eventual demise. A few punks who didn't get the memo last February. A few foolish cells that think they can outlast me. Not so, foolish cells. I'm coming for you, every second of every day. And I'm in no hurry. I'm stalking this disease like Michael Myers in a Halloween movie -- moving confidently and slowly, knowing that I'm going to make a killing in due time (yes, I just compared myself to Michael Myers). 

This round went smoothly, though I did sneak in a nap or two later in the week, probably because I was pretty active early in the week. On Monday night, I went to a movie (Cabin in the Woods – a scary movie, of course!) with my high school buddy Meghan, and on Tuesday, I went to the L.A. Sparks home opener with Will and Tim. I tried to keep yesterday and today especially low-key since I’ve got an early morning Foundation meeting at Norris/Keck tomorrow morning and I’ve gotta be 100% for that (I’m planning big things over here, if you hadn't guessed).

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been in treatment for over a year and a half, but as each day passes, I not only feel more grateful for the life I’ve been given, but more patient in my approach to beating this disease. In many ways, living the full, healthy, happy life that I’m living is beating the disease. Cancer hasn’t slowed me down and isn’t limiting the things I’m doing in my life. In fact, it has helped me broaden my horizons what with the Foundation, my cancer warrior t-shirt line, and my book.  Beating cancer isn't all about remission or a cure -- it's about not letting the disease get you down, stop you from enjoying your life, or crushing your spirit. Obviously, I want to “beat” it in the literal sense of going into long-term remission (as in, life-long remission), but I’m calm and collected about reaching that goal. No matter how long it takes, I’m enjoying the journey, and that’s the true victory.

I Believe

It's been a loooong time since I've added a song to my cancer-killing playlist, and this one is an old favorite of mine. Back in the day when I used to watch American Idol, I particularly liked Fantasia Barrino and her song "I Believe." She sang the hell out of the song and I always found the lyrics to be so inspiring and powerful. Back when I was studying for the bar exam, I'd take daily breaks at the gym and I'd blast this song while I was plugging away on the elliptical machine or pumping iron.

These days, "I Believe" means even more to me. When I reflect on it, everything I've achieved in my life has been driven by one thing in particular: the fact that I've always believed in myself. 

This unwavering belief in myself has meant everything in my smackdown of cancer. I don't question my body's ability to respond to treatment. I don't question my ability to learn what things I need to do to keep myself as strong and healthy as possible. And I don't ever question my will to live, survive, and thrive. That's why this diagnosis never freaked me out...not even for a second (seriously, you can ask my doctors, family, or friends...I've been as cool as a cucumber since Day One). Because when you believe in yourself and your ability to do whatever it is you set your mind to, you're already halfway there.

Without believing in myself, I don't fulfill my childhood dream of going to Duke. I don't get into all 10 of the 10 law schools I applied to. I don't get my job at O'Melveny and have the incredible career I've had thus far. I don't take a Stage IV colon cancer diagnosis in stride, fighting the disease like an beast and helping others in the process. And last night, I don't play 5-on-5 full court pick-up basketball (after a full weight training workout, as the only girl, and only cancer warrior) and light it up from 3 point land. I don't do any of those things without believing in myself. But I did them all because I do.

These particular lyrics of the song never fail to bring tears to my eyes. They are the truth. They are my truth.

I believe in the impossible

If I reach deep within my heart

Overcome any obstacle

Won't let this dream just fall apart

You see, I strive to be the very best

Shine my light for all to see

'Cause anything is possible

When you believe

So no matter your struggle -- whether you're a fellow cancer warrior or dealing with a different medical issue or not -- dig deep, find your strength, and never let it go. And believe.

Happy Mother's Day

When my first surgeon, Dr. Ramos, emerged from the operating room on September 19, 2010, he had tears in his eyes. He delivered the news about my diagnosis and prognosis that no loved one wants to hear. Like normal people, my family was devastated. There were tears. There was sadness. There was fear. Everyone felt like they had lost already.

Everyone except one person, that is. My mom.

My mom believed in me even when the chips were down – way down – and when there really wasn't a solid reason to think positively. My mom didn’t cry when she heard that news, that her only child was going to wither away and die within a year or two. She remembered our conversation from the night before, when she asked what I'd do if my disease was Stage IV and that I said that I'd beat it. She wrote down everything Dr. Ramos said, already thinking of who to call and how to get to the best plan of action in place. She delivered the news to my family and told them that if they wanted to cry or be sad, they shouldn’t come see me in the recovery room. She told them that I said I'd beat the disease and that I would, and to only approach me with confidence and positivity. She told my friends and colleagues that if they wanted to support me, they needed to do the same. They needed to believe in me like she did. And so, everyone did. Just like that, my mom became the leader and the backbone of the greatest and most loving support system ever created.

I credit my doctors for saving my life. I credit my diet and exercise regimen for saving my life. I credit myself -- my attitude and will to live -- for saving my life.

And I credit my mom with saving my life.

My mom didn’t just spring into action on my diagnosis day. She has been a hero – my living, breathing, day-in-and-day-out hero, from the moment I was born. Her strength, love, support, and unswerving belief in the fact that I was someone truly special in this world has made me the person I am today. Without my mom, I never would have gone to Duke or Stanford…I never would have become a lawyer…I never would have become WunderGlo.

Imagine having a person that you could call on, day or night (and at any hour of the night), for anything. To joke around, to reminisce about a memory, to brainstorm ideas about my non-profit, to talk about relationships, to make up a crazy song and sing it a few dozen times, to buy and bring me orange juice or my favorite vegan hot wings from the Thai place across town, or even to keep me company if I can’t sleep at night. That has been my mom for the last 30 years (and all of those examples are from this year, actually – special shout out for those hot wings during a chemo week when that was all I wanted to eat, you were exhausted and super busy with work, and Will and Dad didn’t want to get me them).

My mom is my partner in crime, my best friend, and my rock. There is only one human being on this Earth that I can trust without even a shred of hesitation and it's her. She comes through for me like no other, and I can feel that she truly enjoys and relishes being my mother. It is her love and unyielding support that I have been cradled in my whole life. When you have that type of grounding, you can do anything in this world. And that’s exactly why I have.

So Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. You are the best person I’ve ever known. You are a champion, a leader, and the greatest there ever was. I’m blessed for many reasons, but I’m most blessed in this life to have you as my mom. I love you, I'm proud of you, and I'm honored to be your daughter.