Ready for Battle

Tomorrow is Round 9 of chemo, and I'm ready for it. Thanks to time, effort, and my body's uncanny ability to heal, I've gotten a lot stronger since Round 8. Tomorrow morning, I will enter USC Norris equipped with a much larger appetite and newly forming muscles, and feeling healthier and stronger than I ever have in my life. I'm moving forward with this battle and with my life, and I know that with each drop of those chemo drugs, I'm putting "the cancer" farther and farther behind me.

So let's go. It's game time. Your champion is ready for another victory.

Love Today

It’s time again for another installation to my cancer-killing soundtrack, and this one is a personal favorite. “Love Today” is a rousing, relentlessly positive song by the British singer/songwriter Mika, and it always gets me in the right mindset. Lately, it’s been pretty easy to “love today” given all the great things that have been going on. But even on the tougher days, the chemo side effect days or the days when my body still doesn’t quite feel like its old self, I’m still loving the gift of life and each new day I get to experience.

Before my diagnosis, I loved my life and I definitely enjoyed my days, but I took them for granted. I was always looking forward to that next week, or month, or year. I’d often say that I couldn’t wait for a given event or activity that was still days or weeks away. I know it’s just a turn of phrase, but now, I try to never say I “can’t wait” for something that I’ve yet to experience. I’ll say that I’m looking forward to an event or that it should be a great time, but I specifically avoid saying “can’t wait.” I need to wait and savor the current moment I’m in, before moving on to that next adventure.

My diagnosis and my ensuing battle and beat down of “the cancer” showed me that every day and every moment is worth consciously noticing and appreciating, because not one second of it is guaranteed. No moment should be taken for granted. Each moment, each “today,” should be loved. This new way of living life gives me a deeper appreciation of my relationships, the beauty of the world around me, and all the little details of my life.

So whatever you’re doing, whatever challenges or celebrations are ahead of you, stop for a second and give thanks for where you are in this very moment. And love today.  

Ready to Write Again

When I first learned of my diagnosis, I knew I wanted to openly and candidly share my experiences -- to connect with family and friends and readers, to help others with and without health challenges, and frankly, because I knew I'd feel more comfortable being very public about my battle with "the cancer" than if I kept it quiet. So I started writing this blog. I also started writing a book that delves into more detail about my life pre- and post-diagnosis. The working title of the book is "The Year I Got Really Healthy…And Found Out I Was Really Sick: WunderGlo's Battle With (And Beat Down of) Cancer." It's a bit of a mouthful, but I like it. Anyway, it's only a working title, so let's not get too critical.

I've always been inspired to write my daily blog entries. Even on days I'm feeling a little headachy and tired from chemo, even when my body was attached to numerous tubes in the hospital, and even when I'm on one of my many adventures around the country. Sharing my life with you, my dear readers, is always satisfying. 

Writing the book has been satisfying, too. It's a different, more narrative style of writing, and more focused on the nitty gritty details of my battle. I can really delve deep into my emotions and thoughts throughout every step of the way, which is actually a great way for me to reflect on my experiences and the lessons I've learned. And writing an entire book from start to finish requires dedication and hard work -- two things from which I've never shied away.  

But I have a little confession. Until a couple of days ago, I hadn't touched the book since the middle of January. Obviously, I was a little busy on February 3rd (the day of the "pick it out/pour it in" surgery) and during the two weeks I spent at Washington Hospital Center, but I've had plenty of time to get back on the horse and resume writing about my cancer-killing adventures. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wondered why I'd put the book aside, but I didn't panic. I knew I'd come back to it. I just didn't know when.

Now, I'm back in book writing mode and feeling very fulfilled. And I think I figured out why I didn't really want to write up until now. Despite my great progress and great health, I was still occupied with my post-op and chemo challenges. When you're currently in the midst of feeling weak or you can go an entire day without wanting to eat, you've got your hands full in the present moment and reflecting on months past through writing isn't really a possibility. You need to get through that current moment and jump over that current hurdle before you can even think about sitting down and writing about something you went through months ago.

But now, I'm back to writing. Another sign that I've turned a corner and I'm moving full steam ahead to the finish line.

Rollin' On The River

These days, the good times are rolling -- I'm feeling strong, eating well, and healing quickly. Best of all, I'm getting used to this new and improved body of mine, a fact that is confirmed by little things. 

For instance, until this morning, I'd only been sleeping on my side. I hadn't dared to venture into the land of resting on the tummy lest it feel weird and bum me out. This morning, I decided it was time. I rolled on my side and continued the motion until I was lying flat, face down in my pillow. And despite the huge incision scar starting at my sternum, my belly felt fine. Now I can rest on my stomach and get a massage like a normal person. A baby step, yes, but a step closer to feeling totally and completely normal.

Another sign of my return to new and improved normalcy came in a non-obvious way -- on stage, singing my heart out with my OMM partner in crime, Tim. Today was Day 1 of O'Melveny's Third and Fourth Year Associate Retreat at the Ritz-Carlton in Marina del Rey. Despite the fact that I'm on medical leave, I'm still a fourth year associate and I figured retreating with my fellow associates would be awesome. So far, it has been. After a great dinner and first session, we were invited to do some drinking and some karaoke. I passed on the drinking, but Tim and I knew that we'd be on the hook for karaoke given the fact that we've taken the crown for Best Duet for two years running at our annual OMM Christmas party. We sipped some herbal tea (channeling our inner singing diva) and chose our song: "Proud Mary," the Ike and Tina Turner version.

Soon, we were on stage, being cheered on by our colleagues, and belting out the lyrics. Showmen that we are, we threw in some choreographed dance moves. I'll be honest -- we were really good. It felt great.

But it was more than just a fun time. It was a celebration of my reclaimed life. Last September, I rested in a hospital bed after a three hour surgery and was told that I had Stage IV colon cancer. My future was uncertain, and my chances at survival were not as high as yours. But I was determined to survive. I looked into the belly of the beast and I fought with all my heart. And now, miraculously, I'm back. And hamming it up onstage with my best friend.

Hoop Dreams

It hurts to sit down and to stand up. It hurts to walk. It hurts to raise my arms over my head. And it hurts to stretch my shoulders. Ah, bliss.

That dull but very noticeable pain that has taken over most of my major muscle groups has been long overdue. Exhausted and growing muscles, welcome back. The workouts so far have been challenging and invigorating. I'm not as strong as I used to be, that's for sure, but I'm getting back on track and starting to feel stronger and healthier by the hour. 

And as if getting back to the gym didn't provide enough excitement, I've got a new goal in mind: to play with my O'Melveny teammates in our basketball game on April 18th.

My last game was just a few days before I checked myself into the hospital in mid-September of last year. I remember the game vividly. I wasn't feeling too fabulous, but I was excited to play. My stomach felt unusually heavy and waterlogged, which was probably because I had a huge tumor in my colon that was blocking almost everything from getting past it. Still, I shot the ball beautifully and it felt amazing. At one point, I stole the ball and took off down the court, looking for an open layup. That wouldn't happen because the girl I stole the ball from decided to foul me. On the stomach. With both hands. I gritted my teeth through the pain and managed to make one of my two foul shots, but I realized in that moment that something was very, very wrong with me. The rest of the game went fine -- I lugged my belly up and down the court and managed to make a few more shots, but that game would be the last of my season -- and the last of the year. And the last game I've played in over 6 months.

I've missed it a lot -- the feeling of competing in a game setting, working hard on every play and trying your best to help your team win. Getting back on the court has been my goal for months and months, and I think I'm finally at a place where I can circle a date on my calendar and make it happen.

It's going to take some serious cardio in addition to my weight lifting. And I won't push myself if I don't think I can handle it. But with a little luck and a lot of effort, I'll be making my return to hoops in about a week and a half. If I am able to play on the 18th, I can't tell you how happy I'm going to be. Another little miracle in a series of big and small miracles.

Watch out, players on the other team. WunderGlo is coming for you.