On Waiting for Side Effects

I was fully prepared for chemo grossness today. The dull headache, the lack of appetite, the blah feeling that makes me feel like resting in bed and that's about it. I was ready for a little GI trouble, fully prepared to take an Immodium or two. I was calm, prepared to deal with my side effects in a positive way.

But they didn't come. Not at all.

It's a weird couple of days, the ones directly following chemo treatments. In the back of your mind, you know you could feel a little under the weather and that it's perfectly natural considering the drugs coursing through your body. At the same time, you're hoping you'll escape the week unscathed, without missing a beat. Besides staying hydrated, getting a lot of rest, and remaining optimistic, there's not much else I can do other than wait for side effects...or the lack thereof.

Today, it was the lack thereof, and I couldn't be happier. To celebrate the day, I painted another "Love Life" painting, this one going to Will. It's pretty easy to love life when you're sailing through treatment, surrounded by the best family and friends around, and getting stronger every day.

Chilling Out

In an attempt to preserve my energy and brace for the potential chemo side effects (which usually present themselves tomorrow), I just chilled out today. I watched a bunch of Law & Order: SVU (I am so addicted to that show), ate a bunch of food (my appetite is still 100% intact), and painted a new “Love Life” painting for my parents. All in all, it was a pretty awesome and very relaxing day.

Generally, my “chemo weeks” are like this -- no real commitments, no real pressure to do much of anything, and lots of time to rest. In my former, pre-diagnosis life, weeks like these would drive me absolutely nuts, but I’m getting better and better at taking things slow. After fighting “the cancer” for about eight months so far, one thing has become absolutely clear to me: beating cancer is not a sprint -- it’s a marathon.

I’m pretty happy with how this round has gone so far. Chemo at Norris went well, I’m feeling great at present, and my bag o’ chemo is almost ready to be detached. For the first time, I feel like I’m actually settling in nicely to this phase of my treatment: the post-op six rounds of chemo. Up until now, I’ve been a little impatient with these last six rounds. After all, I’ve been through quite a bit in the last eight months and I’m itching to get back to my new-and-improved previously-scheduled life. I felt that chemo was holding me back instead of helping me move forward. But finally, after three rounds of the six, I’m back in the zone. I’m focused on finishing this treatment and officially stomping all over cancer. And I’m enjoying every minute of it.

Chemo Round 10

It got off to a late start (partially my fault), but once Round 10 started, it went fairly smoothly. This time I got upgraded to a bed instead of the recliner I usually sit in during chemo treatments, and I loved the change immediately. I slept for about four hours of the six-ish I was at the day hospital. The only minor hiccup was the crazy strong way the Benadryl hit me this time. Usually, Erlinda (my usual nurse) slowly infuses the intravenous dose of Benadryl, making the drowsy train come slowly and smoothly. But this new nurse, who was awesome in every other way, just pushed the Benadryl through in one go. The drug hit me like a sack of potatoes (wasn't so bad as to be upgraded to a sack of bricks). I got so drowsy that I also got lightheaded, which freaked me out some. Will calmed me down and held my hand until I conked out for a peaceful nap, and the rest of chemo was a breeze.

I felt pretty great as I walked out of Norris, which was a good thing because I had just made plans with my friend Diana to go the Kings playoff game. Even though they lost, the game was pretty exciting, and I was more excited that I felt excellent the whole time I was at the game.

My last round of chemo might have been a little tough, but I'm feeling really, really good about things this time around.

Sent from my iPhone

Easter Reflections

Given that today is Easter, the most important of Holy Days for Jesus lovers, I wanted to reflect a bit on my faith and how it's changed over the last year. 

I've always thought of myself as a good Christian. I spent 13 years in Catholic school, so I had plenty of opportunities to learn about what a class act Jesus was. I remember that at about six years old or so, I decided that I wanted to be a good enough person to be considered for sainthood (yes, I've always had rather large ambitions) and I was so excited to learn that there hadn't yet been a Saint Gloria. 

Although my saintly ambitions waned as I grew up, I always tried to live in a way that Jesus would be proud of -- I made it a point to be kind to everyone I met, giving to my loved ones, and generous to charitable organizations. I also lived my life with enthusiasm -- at full blast -- in gratitude for the life I was given. 

I had a pretty strong faith in God, but I didn't dwell on it too much. I knew God was there for me, but only really checked in to say thank you and be on my merry way.

When I first learned of my diagnosis, though, my relationship with God was among the first things I thought of, and it brought me great peace. I knew then and I know now that God is protecting me and that I'm absolutely and completely safe. I've always felt taken care of -- given VIP treatment, if you will -- by the big guy upstairs, and those feelings only grew stronger when I learned of "the cancer." 

It's weird to say, but I believe that, in a way, I was chosen to take on this deadly form of this deadly disease for a reason. Maybe it's because I'm built tougher than most people, maybe it's because I'm unyieldingly optimistic, or maybe it's because my life up to my diagnosis was so picture perfect -- but I do believe that I am uniquely equipped to take down this disease and help others in the process, and that this challenge I've taken on did not fall upon me by accident. It's a big challenge, with physical and emotional trials that really test what I'm made of, but it's a challenge I've relished since Day One.

I've always known I was blessed, but now I know I'm also chosen to do uniquely special things for myself, my loved ones, and anyone else who follows my journey and is moved by it. And I'm humbled and honored to be of service.

A Great Day in Northern California

I slept in then geared up for what I expected to be a full and fun day. Will and I grabbed breakfast in Santa Rosa (about an hour north of San Francisco), and were soon heading west to Guerneville, CA: home to Armstrong National Forest. The Armstrong National Forest boasts some of the oldest, biggest, most beautiful Redwoods in the world, and I love being there. This was my first time back since my diagnosis, and the forest was even more beautiful than I remembered.

Will and I hiked for about two and a half miles, and I certainly gave myself a good workout on the steep and winding trails. The fresh, crisp air felt good as I breathed deeply, letting the oxygen replenish and recharge me. My muscles strained as I climbed up the trail, and I loved feeling each muscle group work and respond to the challenge.

My time among the Redwoods reminded me that my body was my sure and steady friend, an organism that wants to be healthy and wants to be strong. All I need to do is give it the tools to succeed: exercise, nutritious food, a joyful, life-loving spirit, and rest.

I gave it that exercise today with a short but rigorous hike.

I gave it that nutritious food right after the hike, at a vegan restaurant in Sebastopol: Slice of Life.

My life-loving spirit was nurtured by the natural beauty of the Redwoods. I got an extra dose of joy tonight when I celebrated Morgan's birthday with her and other great friends in San Francisco.

And now, it's time for rest. Hard to do for someone who never wants to miss a moment of life, but very necessary. After all, tomorrow is bound to be another great day, and I've got to be ready for it.