Lift Off

The next song in my cancer-killing playlist will be the first song I will listen to as I'm wheeled to the operating room on Thursday. Kanye West and Jay-Z were joined by Beyonce for this Watch The Throne track which fills me with the perfect blend of energy and optimism to start my hallway ride to surgery off right.

Ah, the hallway ride to the OR. Those moments when you say goodbye to your family and friends and push off for greener, anesthesia-laden pastures. This is when you're truly tested as a cancer warrior. There's nobody in those moments but you -- you and your thoughts. Things move relatively fast at that point: you're at the operating theater in no time and soon you're hoisting yourself off your bed and on the operating table. You settle in, chat with the nurses, but despite your medical team gearing up and getting everything together for the big show, there is some silence. And in those silent moments, that's when you find out how tough, positive, strong, and courageous you really are. There's nobody to hug, no jokes to tell, and no turning back. In just a few minutes you'll be out and your future will hang in the balance and in the hands of your surgeon.

It's an intense feeling. There's no doubt about that. But it's also an opportunity. An opportunity to pump yourself up and calm yourself down one last time before the big event. An opportunity to truly and finally get in the zone.

"Lift Off" will definitely help me get in the zone in those silent, pre-op moments. First of all, you can't beat a song that samples audio from a space shuttle countdown. Second, these lyrics, sung at full blast by Beyonce, is exactly how I feel about this upcoming surgery and, in a larger sense, about my audacious, aggressive fight against cancer. Here are those lyrics: 

We gon' take it to the moon, take it to the stars 

How many people you know can take it this far?

I'm supercharged

I'm 'bout to take this whole thing to Mars

Now we gon' take it to the moon, take it to the stars

You don't know what we been through to make it this far

So many scars

'Bout to take this whole thing to Mars

This song is about how far I've come and where I'm still going. And the success that Dr. Genyk and I are about to achieve in the OR. It's almost time to lift off!!

Pre-Op Prep and My New Surgeon

I've discussed my physical, mental, and emotional preparation for surgery. You know the drill. Exercise is central. Meditation is key. And refusing to let fear, anxiety, or worry even make a cameo in my thoughts and feelings is important and, luckily, what I do naturally. But there's another, equally essential form of preparation before surgery. Medical preparation.

On Friday, I checked in to the PACE Clinic at USC University Hospital to take care of all the pre-op preparation and testing required before any surgery. Consent forms signed. GoLytely obtained. Pre-surgery instructions in hand. Chest X-ray all good. EKG all good. Blood pressure perfect. Blood and urine results fabulous. Yep, my body is ready for surgery. 

I also met with my new surgeon, Dr. Yuri Genyk. This was our second meeting, which went just as well as the first. Yuri is one of the best surgeons in the country, specializing in pancreatic cancer, one of the toughest cancers to cure. When the Mayo Clinic and UCLA have sent him patients, telling him that they are inoperable and going to die, Yuri operated on them and cured them. From inoperable to CURED. Are you serious? Yup, this is what Dr. Genyk does for a living.  

I feel more than safe in his hands. I feel totally, utterly peaceful. There is no doctor who has made me feel as sure about my future cancer-free status as Dr. Genyk. His calm, thoughtful, and soothingly confident manner has made your pal WunderGlo feel even more audacious about this cancer fight than ever.

When I asked Dr. Genyk what he thought about the surgery, as in what he expected to do, he replied simply and softly: "Whatever [cancer] we see, we'll get. I will get everything."

When I asked Dr. Genyk if he felt the scar tissue could be pesky and difficult to remove, he mulled it over then looked me in the eye. His response: "No."

This man is a WARRIOR. 

When we were done discussing the Xs and Os of our game plan, Dr. Genyk gave me a warm handshake and put his other hand on my shoulder. He slipped a WunderGlo bracelet on his wrist. He hugged my mom. This man is not just a warrior. He's a nice guy. Think of The Russian in Rocky IV but with a heart. The ultimate package, my friends.

Meeting with Dr. Genyk has reminded me about something that I should never forget. I've been blessed with some of the best doctors on the face of the earth. So much of this cancer-killing adventure is about me taking control of my disease and me killing cancer. But let's not forget, Dr. Sugarbaker, Dr. Lenz, and now, Dr. Genyk are three of the most brilliant and most fearsome cancer-killers that ever lived. And let's not forget Dr. Ramos, who got that first tumor out of my colon and showed me how a tough, well-respected doctor could also be a sweetheart -- a standard by which I've measured all the others. Together -- along with all of the prayers, love and support from my family, colleagues, and friends -- my docs and I are a truly unbeatable team. What cancer?! I'm not scared at all. I'm focused, I'm hungry, and I'm ready for battle.

Now who's pumped for surgery on Thursday?! I know I am.

Revitalized in 2012

For my 30^th birthday, my parents didn’t want to go the traditional route for gifts (although my requested presents: a Nolan Smith Trailblazers jersey, more sneakers, and vinyl for my DJ collection are far from traditional) and instead opted for a trip. They let me choose between three of our favorite new spots: Portland, Seattle, or Santa Fe. Without hesitation and for a special reason, I chose Santa Fe.

When we drove cross-country before my “pick it out/pour it in” surgery in DC earlier this year, we spent one day in Santa Fe. That day was simply magical. There was just something about being in Santa Fe that made me feel revitalized physically, mentally, and spiritually. And I wanted to soak up some more of that Santa Fe magic before my next surgery.

As I did last time, I went to 10,000 Waves, an incredible Japanese spa tucked up in the mountains of Santa Fe. But not just for one day -- for three days in a row. I had short treatments on each day but spent a long time there, relaxing in the sauna, soaking in the hot tub outside that faces a waterfall and koi pond, and thinking calming, beautiful thoughts in the meditation room. Being there is like taking the deepest, most cleansing breath ever. A perfect pre-surgery retreat.

There was more, of course. We spent one day in Chimayo, a town just north of Santa Fe which is home to the Chimayo Sanctuary. The Sanctuary is a super spiritual place (known as the “Lourdes of the U.S.” for all you good Catholics who know about Lourdes) where people go to pray, meditate, and ask God for healing. I knew that I needed to include the Sanctuary as part of my pre-surgery preparation. It’s not like my Creator hasn’t gotten the memo of “ummm yeah, let’s beat this shit for good this time,” but, still, it’s always good to connect, pray, and be inspired in an inspiring place. That's just what I did, and it felt great. Our incredibly delicious dinner afterwards just up the road at the Rancho de Chimayo made the trip a complete success. A religious holy place noted for its contribution to medical miracles followed by a vegan burrito, enchilada, and tamale in famous New Mexico red chile? Yeah, going to Chimayo was a good decision.

I almost forgot to tell you about New Year’s Eve! We went to Vanessie, a fabulous restaurant just steps from our hotel (we stayed at the El Dorado again) that comped us a bottle of bubbly when they sat us a little late, then comped my mom and I our four-course vegan meal because there were minor mishaps with making them totally vegan. Their hospitality was unparalleled, and they had live music, too! We made our way to the dance floor and counted off the final seconds of 2011. While we were there, among dozens of people holding their glasses high, I couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky, incredibly happy, and incredibly blessed.

My trip to Santa Fe took its rightful place in the beautiful array of experiences that I’ve had since my diagnosis. Cancer hasn’t stopped me from devouring life. Neither has 20 rounds of chemo. Neither has two surgeries. When I reflect on 2011, I don’t even think of those things at first. You know why? They are background noise. Background noise to the greater awakenings that I’ve had about my life and how to live it. Cancer or not, my life is incredible -- fun, satisfying, filled with love and happiness, and awesome.

And I’m so grateful to be living it.

A New Year's Wish For My Fellow Cancer Warriors

In 2012, let's be strong, positive, and resolute. Let's be audacious. And let's beat the living hell out of cancer. I'm planning on doing all the above, and I hope you're with me!! Cancer goes DOWN in 2012!!

A Year In Review

2011 has been, without question, the best year of my life. And I'm not just saying that to be called inspirational or a positive thinker or some other sweet moniker. I'm saying it because it's ACTUALLY true. Let's review.

January: New Year's Eve in New York City. Front row seats to Laura Linney's Broadway play Time Stands Still. Oh yeah, and I went on a cross-country trip. Arizona (the Grand Canyon is beautiful), New Mexico (Santa Fe is magical), Texas (Amarillo has delicious vegan bean burritos), Oklahoma (including OKC, home of my favorite raw/vegan restaurant), Arkansas (where we had a lovely meal with my high school buddy and her bro), Tennessee (Nashville was snowy), and Durham, NC (I don't even need to say what's in Durham, North Carolina). The experiences of our cross-country trip, including sitting behind the bench for the Duke/Boston College game, were the kind of once-in-a-lifetime moments that you just can't help but smile when thinking back on them. After spending a couple of days at Duke, we went up to NYC and DC. Yes, January was a great month.

February: When I beat the odds and triumphed over cancer. 11 hours of surgery, 17 different procedures, waking up with 13 tubes coming out of my body, and 14 days in the hospital. No guts, no glory. Plenty of guts and even more glory. I loved my time at Washington Hospital Center. The night I got out of the hospital, I went to a movie with my family and friends -- a whole crew. Then I played arcade games. This is not your typical first night out of the hospital after cytoreductive sugery plus HIPEC, but my recovery was marked with plenty of "not typicals." A couple of days later, I threw myself a victory party and dozens of my East Coast buddies came. A day after that, my three nurses and I drove to Duke to catch another basketball game and spend some quality time with the Krzyzewskis. At the end of the month, I came home to my loving family, friends, and colleagues. I'm pretty sure that February was a better month than January.

March: I continued to heal, blog, paint, and reflect. I went to Vegas for March Madness, which makes the tourney even more exciting for a self-professed college basketball fanatic. I restarted FOLFOX, and on that same day, I drove to Anaheim to watch my Blue Devils play in the Sweet Sixteen. The only sad moment in my year was on that day when Duke lost, but I quickly rebounded. That night, Will and I drove from Anaheim to the Ritz Carlton Half Moon Bay, which took about 6 hours. We rolled in at about 5am (while I was infusing with my bag o' chemo) and I was honored with the O'Melveny & Myers Warren Christopher Values Award at around 7pm. The Values Award is pretty much the highest honor anyone can receive at the firm, and I'd been secretly hoping to make enough of a difference at O'Melveny to get the award since I heard about it as a summer associate. How do you top getting an honor like that? You don't, but I did follow it with a massage and a walk along the cliffside overlooking the beautiful Pacific Ocean. 

April: I kicked off the month as the keynote speaker for the Ms. JD conference, and spoke about how much I love my career and the community that is my firm. Of course, I had a cheering section at this first "WunderGlo" speaking engagement: my three nurses, Tim, and Sabrina. Never the one to miss an opportunity to wreak havoc on April Fools Day, I emailed Dr. Lenz and told him that I couldn't make a bowel movement and was vomiting -- he believed me, naturally. It was awesome. Followed the April Fools hijinks by having fun all month. A trip to Palm Springs, Dodger games with Tim, concerts at the Hollywood Bowl and Santa Barbara Bowl, a trip to San Francisco that included hiking among the Redwoods at the Armstrong National Forest. I also started DJ lessons (you can call me DJ Wunder) and rejoined my O'Melveny basketball team. My first post-op swish felt particularly good.

May: I continued to barrel through chemo and was finally cleared to back to the gym. I did it in grand fashion, lifting weights, shooting hoops, and swimming in the pool at the L.A. Athletic Club. Fighting cancer is a full-time job, but I managed to mix in plenty of fun, too: concerts at the Walt Disney Concert Hall; a trip to Boulder, CO for acupuncture and a trip to the hotel that inspired the one in The Shining; a fun day Disneyland; and another trip to Vegas.

June: I finished chemo treatment, ending my relationship with FOLFOX at 13 rounds. I gave the commencement speech at my high school's (Flintridge Sacred Heart Academy) graduation which was both surreal (I got to wear a robe and sat with my former teachers) and a huge honor. I met with my lawyers at O'Melveny (doesn't that sound cool?), who agreed to take on The WunderGlo Foundation as a pro bono client. I sealed the deal with a literary agent (her name is Gillian MacKenzie), had good times in New York City, and strutted my stuff (including my incision wound) in a bikini on Waikiki Beach.

July: Let's keep it simple. London and York, England. Edinburgh, Scotland. Nice and Cannes, France. Paris, France -- for Bastille Day. When I got to the States, I threw myself a serious cancer-killing victory party at the coolest art gallery in Downtown L.A. Friends and family abounded. We declared triumph over a disease that was supposed to have killed me but never really had a chance. July rocked. 

August: On August 1st, I came back to O'Melveny. Most people wouldn't miss their job during a multi-month vacation, but I certainly did. Being back in the mix felt great, and I was put to work immediately. And although I wasn't back on treatment, I was spending a considerable amount of time at Norris since a scan identified a pleural effusion, a collection of fluid by my left lung. The radiologist was SURE I had metastatic cancer in my pleural cavity, and he was dead wrong. The good times kept rolling at concerts at the Hollywood Bowl and the Ford Amphitheater, along with a weekend celebration of our 4 year wedding anniversary at the Coronado Hotel in San Diego. 

September: My battle against cancer kicked into high gear in September, as I went back on chemo -- this time, with FOLFIRI. My work for The WunderGlo Foundation also kicked into high gear, as I made connections in New York City during the UN Summit on Non-Communicable Diseases. I met Lance Armstrong and Doug Ulman of LIVESTRONG, attended an American Cancer Society event, and spoke at a UN Youth Rally on NCDs. I was interviewed by the founding members of the Levo League (here's their article on me), got addicted to Breaking Bad (best show on TV without a doubt), and -- oh yeah -- managed to pull off a massive success in The WunderGlo Foundation's first ever event. The Foundation's BEAT COLON CANCER 3-on-3 Basketball Tournament and Silent Auction raised over $10,000 for the USC GI Oncology Program and Fight Colorectal Cancer. And my team won the women's championship. Ooh, and I celebrated another anniversary: the 1 year anniversary of my diagnosis. 

October: I kept working hard at the firm, on the Foundation, and in my quest to kill cancer once and for all. I stepped up my sneaker game, honed my DJ skills, and celebrated Halloween by throwing a party at O'Melveny and wearing a hot dog costume with a sign that read: "Warning: May Cause Colon Cancer. Trust me, I should know!" to Norris. We also went to Vegas again (when you're on a lucky streak, you've gotta keep riding it). 

November: Continued balancing of my work and Foundation responsibilities, more FOLFIRI, solid workouts, and good times with friends. Especially splashy highlights include hanging out with Russell Brand at a L.A. Library Foundation event and hanging out with Coach K at the Maui Invitational. Three Duke games in three days from either the first or second row of a tiny gym = basketball heaven. Combine that with golf and tennis and a Maui beach and you'll get a sense of what my Thanksgiving week looked like. It was NICE.

December: Jam-packed with events, December started out with The WunderGlo Foundation's second event -- a poker tournament and live auction that yielded over $5,000 for the Foundation -- and before I knew it, I was 30 years old. I threw a huge party, made my DJing debut with a 40 minute set, and had a blast. I met my future surgeon, Dr. Yuri Genyk, and started to train for my upcoming January surgery. I celebrated the holidays with friends and family at parties and dinners, spending Christmas at our loft in Downtown L.A. And I'm now rounding out the last days of December in one of my favorite places: Santa Fe, New Mexico.  

Notable concerts included: Mumford and Sons (twice), kd lang (twice), Stevie Nicks, WATCH THE THRONE (Jay-Z and Kanye West), Florence & the Machine

Notable new careers included: President of a non-profit, writer, DJ, t-shirt designer (more on this coming soon)

Wow. It was a great year. It was the best year. 

But its greatness (and bestness) wasn't just about places I went and people I met and good times I had. It wasn't just about beating cancer. It was a shift in mindset, a shift that came the moment I was diagnosed and continued to strengthen with each passing day. The new mindset was encapsulated in my paintings: LOVE LIFE. It was described in my blog entries: LIVE LIFE IN SUPER-HD. It is about rejoicing in the present, learning from the past, and looking forward to the future. It's about gratitude and laughter, compassion and love. It's about happiness.  

2011 was the best year because it was infused with true, deep, abiding happiness. And I wish that kind of happiness to you and all the people you love in the coming year.