Cancer Warriors, Unite!

I spent the majority of the day sending good vibes, prayers, and positive thoughts to the Washington Hospital Center. Why, you ask? Because today, my cancer-killing tag-team partner, Howard, had his “pick it out/pour it in” surgery with Dr. Sugarbaker.

Howard and I became email buddies late last year when he met my cousin and learned about our parallel paths. He’s a producer at 60 Minutes and quite the hot shot. He’s also the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. We are both Stage IV colon cancer warriors whose cancer spread to the exact same place -- the peritoneum. Generally, when one’s colon cancer travels, it goes to the liver first, and then the lung. But in our case, “the cancer” went the other way -- to the abdominal cavity lining. Accordingly, we had very similar treatment plans -- chemo, surgery with Sugarbaker, then some more chemo -- and are poised and ready to beat the hell out of cancer.

I did most of that hard work a little over a month ago, after 11 hours of grueling surgery.

Today, Howard did the same, though I’m hoping his surgery wasn’t quite as long and didn’t include quite as many procedures. But I do know that he gave cancer the ultimate death blow, and I couldn’t be prouder. Recovering from this surgery isn’t easy, but I know he’ll get through it like a champ.

Do me a favor, dear readers, and send a prayer and some positive thoughts his way. He’s a great guy, a wonderful friend, and a fellow cancer warrior. And we warriors stick together.

Getting Back In The Groove

Life got even more back to normal today. I'm proud to announce that I'm getting back in the groove, ladies and gentlemen.

First, I resumed what was one of the most important things I did before my surgery: my acupuncture sessions. Mary Ellen, my wonderful and brilliant acupuncturist, flew to D.C. to give me a treatment right after my surgery, when I was still connected to a couple of tubes and not too mobile. That session was a little difficult for me -- my sensitivity to the needles was higher than it had ever been before, and I felt pretty tired by the end of our session. But that was not the case today.

Our session this afternoon was absolutely fantastic. I can't really explain how rejuvenating acupuncture is, but during and after the treatment, it feels as if new life and energy is flowing into my body. I could even feel my mood lifting, becoming more positive and calm. Crazy but true. I'm so glad I started back up with these weekly treatments, and I know that acupuncture will continue to strengthen me and make my body, mind, and spirit even more prepared for the next three months of chemo.

After my blissful hour and a half with Mary Ellen, I headed to Santa Monica to meet up with some friends, some local and some not-so-local. Anna lives in Santa Monica, Ruth and Anthony are visiting from England, and Dec is back in L.A. after spending many months in his native Ireland. Add to this merry crew my mom, Will, and Winston, and we had a veritable party going on. It feels great to be back with my friends, talking about good times gone by but also setting up plans for the future. Will and I scheduled a double date with Ruth and Anthony on Friday night. Anna and I are in the midst of planning another fun day in Santa Monica (which will include a long walk on the beach since that's permissible physical activity according to my doctors). And I'll definitely be seeing Dec sooner than later.

It's a funny thing, talking about the future. You always think of the future as something that's guaranteed, this time out in front of you that will eventually come and present a whole host of experiences and challenges and good times. But until you look death in the face like I did, you don't really realize how truly awesome it is to have a future. Planning -- whether it be for a fun activity with friends or a time to go house hunting (which will probably be next summer for us) -- becomes a joyful experience, an action filled with gratitude and hope, a prayer and an affirmation. These days, I'm living in and thoroughly enjoying the present, but getting more and more excited about the future.

Today is incredible, and tomorrow is a true gift. For all of us.

A Beautiful Day in L.A.

The morning sun made it clear that today would be a gorgeous one in the City of Angels, and I was determined to go out and enjoy it. By the early afternoon, Will and Winston and I were at the La Brea Tar Pits, soaking up the sun. 

Going back to the Tar Pits was especially meaningful for me. The last time the three of us were there, on Labor Day of last year, I wasn't feeling too great. I soldiered on, having fun with my hubby and puppy, but my belly felt heavy and almost every meal didn't sit well with me. I remember walking around the Tar Pits and feeling anxious -- I knew something was off with my body and I really wanted a resolution. At this point, I had already gone to a general practitioner who heard about my symptoms (gas pain, ungodly sounds emanating from my gut, frequent and unhappy daily bowel movements) and had dismissed me, advising that I should look into taking some probiotics. As we spent Labor Day in the sun, I remember hoping that somebody -- anybody -- could help relieve my symptoms and get me back on track.

That was six days before I was admitted to Good Samaritan Hospital. It was the last holiday I experienced without realizing that I was battling cancer. I'd say ignorance is bliss, but it wasn't. Learning about my diagnosis about two weeks later was a welcome relief compared to the upsetting uncertainty that I experienced prior to that.

Coming back to the Tar Pits today was an entirely happy experience, a triumph, and a big "up yours" to cancer. I felt great as I walked the grounds, knowing that I had conquered the beast -- the uncertainty, fear, and pain -- and that the rest of my cancer-killing adventure would be smooth sailing. 

One might think that going back there would be a sad experience, a reminder of my carefree life prior to my diagnosis. But it wasn't so. The truth of the matter is that I'm a happier, more carefree person now. I've been through a character-testing and character-building challenge -- perhaps the biggest challenge I'll ever face -- and here I am, on the other side. Happier, stronger, and living a richer life. 

As we ate lunch at Cafe Gratitude, grabbed vegan ice cream at KindKreme, and cruised around Echo Park, I could feel my life coming back to normal. A new normal. A better normal. And it was beautiful.

Reunited And It Feels So Good

This morning, I got up, ate some high protein Kashi cereal (pretty tasty and a good source of protein for this vegan), got dressed, and headed off to see the King of Oncology, the Master of Killing Cancer, and one of my most valued teammates in my beat down of "the cancer": Dr. Lenz. 

I have been waiting to see Dr. Lenz and give him the biggest hug ever from the moment I learned that the chemo he so brilliantly chose for me had annihilated a substantial amount of "the cancer" that had formerly lived in my belly. This man -- quite literally -- saved my life. And on top of it, his kindness, humor, and positivity gives me an incredible boost every time I see him. I look forward to chemo treatments, in part, because I get to see my doctor. How cool is that? I was smiling all the way to USC Norris today.

We had a wonderful reunion, got on the same page about my next three months of chemo (which will begin on March 24th, giving me plenty of time to heal), and got on the same page about my current exercise regimen (this one was much tougher for me to agree to, since I'm still limited to plain vanilla walking until further notice). 

You know, after I got back home from my surgery, I felt like I had lost my focus in a way. Rehabbing is slow and, for someone like me, boring work. "Taking it easy" and "not pushing myself" are not things I can really get excited about doing. After Sugarbaker's surgery, I felt like I had done all the hard work that I needed to do, and didn't know exactly how I'd revive the "game face" that had propelled me so far. In a way, I felt like an athlete that had won the championship game, and was simply coasting on adrenaline and applause, not at all thinking about gearing up for the next season. And I didn't know when I'd feel ready to reload for that next season.

But today, when I saw Dr. Lenz again and discussed our next steps, I felt that focus come back, clearer than ever. I felt like the same warrior that worked so hard to kill that cancer pre-op was back and even better post-op. My game face is back, and I am so excited to rock these next three months of chemo. 

I guess I just needed to be reunited with my teammate.

He Missed A Stitch!!

Last night, when I was showing off my incision wound at my party (because that's what WunderGlo does at a party, naturally), my ever observant friend Sabrina noticed what might be a stitch remaining in my otherwise stitchless incision wound.

"Is that a stitch?"

"I don't think so. I doubt Ramos would leave one in there."

"No, I think that's a stitch."

"Oh God, I think you're right."

I figured I'd take care of this stray stitch on Monday, but I woke up this morning on a mission. I looked down at the stitch and thought, "I think I can do this." I grabbed my tweezers, dipped them in alcohol, and as Will and my Stanford bestie Morgan watched, I began.

I pulled at one end of the stitch, and easily dislodged it from the thin layer of skin that had grown over it in the last day and a half. I pulled, thinking it would come out, but then I realized that it was connected to the stitch immediately above it. I moved to that other stitch, and moments later, I had dislodged it and the scab that covered it. Then, it was just a matter of slowly pulling. And then, it was done.

Yes, I removed a stitch from my own incision wound. It was pretty awesome, and it helped remind me what a tough woman I am. You know, when I'm focused on taking it easy and eating things that don't tax my system, when I'm taking pain pills and stool softener on a daily basis, I've sort of lost sight of the fact that I am super tough and strong -- a beast, if you will. But today, I remembered, and it felt awesome.

So thanks, Dr. Ramos, for missing a stitch when you took the rest of them out on Friday morning. I bet you had this planned all along.