Getting My Lance Armstrong On

I know it sounds a little dramatic, but today was the first day of the rest of my life. A life focused on physical fitness, one of the essential building blocks to my long-term health and survival of this foolish disease.

After getting Lenz's blessing yesterday, I ventured back to the gym and hit the weights tonight. Right before my session, I went to the Nike store with Will and found a great shirt that encapsulates my new attitude toward fitness. The shirt, in a response to Nike's famous tag line "Just do it," simply says "Doing it." And that's just what I did at Educogym tonight. 

I thought I'd tiptoe back into a challenging workout, but that's not exactly how it played out. Started with some squats (don't worry, various caretakers, I did NOT engage my core), followed that with walking lunges, followed that with hamstring curls, then leg extensions, then seated calf raises.

By the time I got to standing lunges, I already felt incredibly sore. My quads, hamstrings, and glutes were all on fire. These muscles were on an extended vacation, but I'm pretty sure they know that maxin' and relaxin' time is all over now. Who knows what walking is going to be like tomorrow, but I'll embrace the soreness and look forward to some new muscle tissue. I'm so, so excited to be back at the gym and actively helping myself reach optimal health. 

After my workout, I hopped on the scale and checked my progress with my trainer and good friend, Wayne. The results were pretty exciting. It turns out that I've lost about 15 pounds since my surgery, but only 7 of those pounds were muscle. Not only did I lose all the cancer cells in my body, I also dropped 8 pounds of fat. Pretty awesome news, right? I also shaved two inches off my waist and another inch off my tummy, although the credit for those numbers should be attributed almost solely to Dr. Sugarbaker and his incision line which took my belly button and some belly in the process. Dr. Sugarbaker is the bearer of many good things.

My first day back to the gym couldn't have been better. I can't wait to continue to work hard, live strong, and get this body of mine in the best shape possible.

It's Baaaaaaaack!!!

Ladies and gentlemen, it's back. My appetite, that is. 

I knew that my appetite would take a hit after my surgery and during my post-op recovery, and it did. I remained calm, as I turned away meals after eating only a portion of them. I didn't get flustered as I watched myself lose 16 pounds over the last two months. I tried not to fret as the muscles that I worked so hard to build went from beastly to merely average. But I knew that I'd have to turn it around in the eating department if I wanted to get in shape and get strong during this last phase of treatment and for the rest of my life.

I'm happy to announce that things have indeed turned around. I'm hungry, I'm eating, and I'm finally putting away a normal amount of nutritious food. I know that this is the first step to getting into (cancer-)killer shape and I couldn't be more pleased. 

I'd like to thank my mom for always having nutritious food on hand, no matter the time or place. Although over the past two months I've snapped at her many times for offering me every kind of food at all hours of the day -- usually, I'd dramatically complain that "I'm going to throw up if you keep talking about food" -- I know that her constant care about my food intake was essential to building up my appetite to what it is today.

I'd also like to thank Will for finding perhaps the greatest vegan restaurant ever, Native Foods Cafe. We went there for lunch today, and I did some serious damage -- buffalo wings (one of my favorite foods pre-diagnosis and one that I didn't think I'd ever get to taste again), a breaded chicken sandwich, sweet potato fries, and an apple cobbler.  So delicious, and all in my belly.

My appetite came back this weekend, and not a moment too soon. Dr. Lenz gave me the green light to go back to the gym. I'll be back at Educogym tomorrow, pumping iron and loving every minute of it.

Your girl is on her way back and, this time, will be better than ever.

Two Month Anniversary

Today, April 3rd, marked the two month anniversary of the day I won the battle against the idiotic cancer that had been chillin' in my body for years. Two months ago, I walked from my hotel room in the Washington Hospital Center to the pre-op check-in area, ditched my clothes for a hospital gown, signed a bunch of releases, peed in a cup, gave hugs to my three nurses and mother-in-law and law school best friend, took off my glasses, and got wheeled into the operating room.

Those moments right before surgery were some of the most exciting and relaxing of my life. My iPod was on, my music was playing, and I knew, without hesitation, that I was safe. I knew that Lenz and his chemo had taken me part of the way, and that Sugarbaker and his scalpel would finish the job. I knew that I had prepared well for the physical challenge of the "pick it out/pour it in" surgery and that I would rock my post-op recovery. I knew that all the prayers and well wishes and good vibes were flowing all over the world for me, and that all of my supporters would continue to see me through this battle with love and friendship. I knew, even before it was true, that I had beaten Stage IV colon cancer.

And here I am today. Feeling so good it's not even funny. Eternally grateful to my doctors for their brilliance, eternally thankful for my friends and family, and eternally confident that my cancer warrior spirit will continue to nourish me during this last phase of treatment. Some may think that a cancer diagnosis at the age of 28 is far from a blessing, but I am blessed. And I've got the scars -- and the smile -- to prove it.

So Happy Anniversary to my freshly cancer-free body -- to the dearly departed organs that were removed, to the blood that became a part of me through transfusions, and to skin that still heals around the incision sites. Here's to a lifetime of health and mind/body/spirit harmony. I promise to take excellent care of you and to listen carefully from now on. All you have to do is keep doing your thing.

WunderGlo's First Speaking Engagement

Last night, I printed out my speech, read through it a couple of times, got my fanciest pinstripe suit on, and headed to Southwestern Law School. The reason? I had been invited by Ms.JD -- a non-profit national organization dedicated to the success of women in the legal profession and law school -- to deliver remarks at the group's 4th annual conference. My good friend from Stanford Law School, Elizabeth, is heavily involved in the organization and was behind the effort to have yours truly selected as the keynote speaker. And what do you know, the Board agreed with her. It was an honor and a true privilege to meet the passionate and driven women that make up this group, and to address them as a speaker.

Here's an excerpt of my speech that was particularly meaningful to me:

When I first got my diagnosis last September, life stopped for a moment. I always had a treatment plan, and never feared what I might have to endure, but my life as I knew it had ended. My caseload went from overwhelming to nothing at all. Happy hours were replaced by chemotherapy sessions. And an incredibly busy, high stress, work hard/play hard lifestyle changed almost overnight into a gentler, healthier, and more mindful way of being. 

Before my diagnosis, I had planned every detail of my life out well in advance. By the age of 8, I knew I wanted to attend Duke University. By the 6th grade,  I knew I wanted to be a lawyer. And I met my husband, Will, on the first day of college. But once I knew I was battling Stage IV cancer, my well laid plans for career and family were suspended in mid-air. I was forced to reassess my life and determine what was worth fighting for and aspiring to, and what wasn't. 

My relationships with family and friends, of course, remained incredibly important to me. My health and learning how to take care of myself became a new priority in my life. Diet, physical fitness, meditation, acupuncture, reiki, and positive thinking all became mainstays in my life. 

And, believe it or not, my incredibly demanding job as a corporate litigator at O'Melveny & Myers factored in among the things I most cherished, and among the things I was determined to get back to as soon as possible. 

Why would a person facing Stage IV cancer, preparing for chemotherapy and another surgery followed by more chemotherapy, and about to partake in the fight of her life yearn to get back to the office? Why would the notion of getting back to work -- of drafting briefs and negotiating settlements and filling out time sheets -- excite and inspire me?

Well, it wasn't the time sheets that provided the inspiration. And even though I love the work itself, it wasn't completely about that either. The thing that made me miss that big corporate law firm was the incredible group of people that make it up. From my mentors to my colleagues -- many of whom are my best friends -- to the staff to our security guards, O'Melveny is far more than a law firm -- it's a family. We are people who have a vested interest in each other, personally and professionally, and we support each other in any way we can. After my first surgery last September -- when I first learned of my diagnosis -- my hospital room became what I like to call O'Melveny's Central L.A. office, as associates and partners from our Downtown and Century City offices poured in to see me and cheer me on. The support I always felt from O'Melveny only strengthened with my diagnosis, and the place I like to call the best law firm in the world proved to me that it was worthy of that title.

I mention O'Melveny not just to pump up my people, but to underline a very important lesson I've learned. It became clear to me when I first received my diagnosis, and has only gotten clearer as the days have passed and my battle has continued: Our community is the most important thing in life. The communities that we are a part of, professionally and socially, shape the quality of our lives.

I went on to discuss how I felt an instant connection with the O'Melveny community, and how I've tried to enrich that community since I joined the firm. I even gave a little advice, urging my audience to find the right community for them and take it upon themselves to make that community stronger through their efforts and involvement. It was a pretty personal speech, and I thought I might be nervous getting in front of a big group and speaking from the heart about my diagnosis and my career at O'Melveny. But it was actually one of the most natural and rewarding speeches I've given -- and that's coming from someone who spoke at her high school and college graduations. 

The opportunity to share my story with my fellow women lawyers was truly wonderful and an experience that I won't soon forget. A big thanks to Ms.JD for the awesome opportunity. And thanks to my three nurses, Tim, and Sabrina for coming to the event and cheering me on. The good times are rolling for your pal WunderGlo these days, and I couldn't be more grateful.

Happy April Fools Day!!

Dear readers, I had so many plans for you today. I was going to tell you that my almost healed incision wounds had suffered a two week setback after I walked too many stairs at Dodger Stadium last night. I also considered telling you that I was going to permanently shut down the website because, really, I had nothing more to say and didn't believe in half of the stuff I've said thus far. And I thought of tricking you into believing that I broke my arm or had some cancer-unrelated health scare.

You see, April 1 is my favorite day of the year. Pranking my friends, family, and loved ones gives me supreme joy and always has. And who better to prank than all of you? You are a pretty captive audience, you know.

You can credit Will for throwing a wet blanket on this idea. Next year, though, all bets are off. Consider yourself warned.

I guess just my prank email to Dr. Lenz about how I started vomiting this morning will have to do. Sigh. :)