I want to graduate this May. I don't want to drop any of my classes.
I will graduate this May and I am not dropping any of my classes! I will keep saying this and I will do it. It doesn't matter how many times I say it, almost everyone looks at me like I'm crazy. For some reason, it is almost everyone's first reaction to try to convince me otherwise. But there is a point when you need to put aside your own ideas, listen to me, and just support me. I am getting so sick of defending myself and explaining myself. I have worked so hard for the past 3 years to be on track. I've taken many summer classes and done everything to prepare me to graduate in May of 2017. It's almost like it's not an option for me to change this. I know I just wrote about living in the moment, but this is a plan I just can't shake. In all honesty, the only thing that has kept me sane so far is the distraction of school. This is the only normal thing I have left to hold onto. I could not imagine waking up everyday without something driving me. I can't live the next few months with the only thing on my mind being Lymphoma and surviving it. Studying in the hospital passes the time. Walking on campus for the first time after I got out of the hospital made me feel so at home and so normal that I almost cried. Sure, adjustments will have to be made. When you don't have an immune system its not a good idea to attend college classes let alone first grade classes for placement. I'll figure something out, but I will graduate this year. I ask for your support and if you don't believe in me don't say anything at all. Sorry if that sounds sassy but that's how it is.
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You hear it all the time.
"Just live in the moment." For me this is near impossible. Before my diagnosis, it was absolutely impossible. Simply out of the question. I never had to force myself to live in the moment, although it would've made my life a lot easier. I'm such a planner it hurts. And the stuff I like to plan and obsess over the most? Well obviously it is the stuff that I can't control. So picture having this personality trait and then being diagnosed with cancer. I definitely had to adjust. In this past month alone, I had so many things planned. My planner was filled to the brim with events and things that I planned to do. For planners like me, there is no backing out. Once it's in the planner, it's happening and that is that. Each of these things were in my plan, only for the day to come when I can't get out of bed. The amount of things I have cancelled, the amount of classes I have missed and people I have backed out on is absolutely killing me. Almost every single thing I planned has gone out the window. This is when I realized I need to change. I can't keep living my life in disappointment with myself. I realized that I need to adjust my life to accommodate my new normal. This is when I started to experience the true meaning of living one day at a time. If I wake up and feel great, like I did today, I get stuff done. Today I took my license picture at the Secretary of State for my ID renewal (21 woo!) because who knows when I'll feel like getting ready again. When people text me and ask if I can meet up for school projects, I tell them I'll let them know when I can. I encourage you, especially if you are an obsessive planner like me, to live in the moment. One day at a time. It's surprisingly refreshing. :) Blogging is never something I thought I would do. I do enjoy creative writing, but I never had a reason or a purpose for a blog. When I was diagnosed, I found my purpose and I ran with it!
The main reason I wanted to blog in this case was to maintain this sense of normalcy. After my friends and family found out about my diagnosis, I felt as though every conversation was centered around cancer. I appreciated their concern, but I found myself repeating the same things and losing that sense of normalcy I felt before. It was as though I had become my diagnosis, and that was all we could talk about. Thanks to the blog, these constant updates can be followed along as they're happening, so when I see my friends and family, we can talk about the "normal things" again. Like Sparty's sad excuse of a football game last Saturday, or my midterm exam coming up this week. Also, I have found that my posts are surprisingly relevant to lives that are not directly impacted by cancer. We are all facing something, and when we face something tough, we can make choices on how to respond. I have already found that without thinking, I often reframe or taking a negative situation and turn it into a positive. Reading about these little experiences will hopefully help you as much as it has helped me. On another note... Happy Tuesday! I will be released tonight and will be returning to the land of green and white tomorrow morning. Woo! One cycle down, five to go. As the eight o'clock hour was slowly approaching, I thought to my self how I could possibly make it through one more day of this. At eight, I would receive my least chemotherapy bag (which lasts 24 hours) for this first cycle. The first few days had gone okay, but today I just felt different. I felt more fatigue, I wasn't as hungry, and my overall motivation to get up or do anything was just lacking. I couldn't imagine one more whole day of this.
That is when some of my closest friends piled my door right before eight. The feeling I got when they walked in was a new energy and an overwhelming sense of love. From that point on, my night was turned around. That's just the final push I needed to get through this last day. There's just nothing like being with your closest friends. Thank you to everyone, friends and family, who has visited me through this first cycle. You have no idea how much your mere presence means to me. If I've learned anything about my multiple stays so far at the hospital, I've learned one thing: there are good nurses and bad nurses. And there is absolutely no in between.
**I do appreciate the work of any nurse. I'm not trying to sound like an ungrateful brat. I understand that it truly is a hard job, but you'll understand why the "bad" nurses deserve the name by the end of this post. These bad nurses are hard to find, and I think they seriously try to be "bad".** The funny thing is you know right when they walk in if you will clique with them or not. And it's either the best feeling or the worst because nurses have long shifts so you've got at least 12 hours to be dealing with this person. Every time I know a shift changing, I nervously await what will walk through the door. We'll start with the good nurses. For the most part they are all amazing, but there is a few that I have had that will stick out in my mind that I will probably never forget. The best nurses are always happy. They let you know that you are cared for and that they like you, but they don't over do it. They tell you exactly what you want to know, and they answer your questions, but they don't over answer them. They tell you that you are going to make it and that they believe in you. They bring you water when they notice on their own that it's getting low. The bring a smile to my face every time they walk in, and my smile stays after they leave. Now we'll get into the nurses that merit the "bad" name. God forbid you ask these nurses a question, because they over answer them and let you know things that you do NOT need to know. I have had nurses tell me that most people with my diagnosis will need a transplant and that if it happens to just "stay positive." WHAT? Why would they tell me that? What does that even mean? Why would they say that if they don't even know I will for sure need it. I've also had nurses plain out say, "You will lose your hair but just stay positive." That's just something that doesn't need to be said. I'm not ignorant. I'm aware that I will most likely lose it. Thank you for bring that to my attention while you stand there with your full luscious locks. Who taught them that those are okay things to say to a twenty-year-old undergoing her first round of chemotherapy? I also had a nurse call my chemotherapy my "pink lemonade cocktail" as she laughed. I just didn't find it funny. It's a freaking bag of poison being injected into my body. You'd think that there would be some kind of common sense, but I guess not. So there's my rant. It's not easy to be a "bad" nurse, but the bad ones have been bad and negative. They definitely don't belong in the oncology department of a hospital. But despite their comments, I hold on to the memories with the good nurses and their positive thoughts, because you just can't let shit get to you. Moral of the story: just use common sense before you open your mouth to someone battling cancer. You can't go wrong with healing words and positive thoughts. On October 21st, I started my first cycle of chemotherapy.
At 20-years-old, or any age for that matter, you'll never be ready for chemo. I sat down in my hospital room (which is awesome by the way--surround sound, a huge TV and mini fridge) and had my dad bring some Little Ceasar's. I got acquainted and said "Well, let's get this party started." The first part of the treatment is not considered chemotherapy. It is an injection of antibodies called Rituxan to alert my body to start fighting off the cancer. About 70% of patients have a reaction to it, and lo and behold, so did I. I had what they call "rigers." This consisted of me uncontrollably shaking and shivering for about 20 minutes. It was pretty scary, but they got it under control, adjusted the dose and we haven't had any more issues with it. Then, I started the cocktail bag of chemotherapy. It is infused into my body through a pick line. I haven't felt anything and it has been going extremely well. They say it's usually after the chemotherapy when your blood levels are low that it hits you. I'll deal with that if and when it comes. Here is my awesome room! First thing I decided to do when I was diagnosed?
To get a puppy. :) So here is Luna. She is a 3 month old black lab. I am definitely going to talk about her a lot. She is so smart and has been such an amazing, positive addition to my life so far. I can't wait for the next several years that she will be in my life, and the journeys that she will get through with me by my side. rThe things I would do to just be normal again.
When you are diagnosed with cancer, you start think about all of things that will no longer be normal. 1. I will most likely lose my hair. Walking to class lately, I am brought to tears just feeling the wind blow through my hair. I am terrified of what people will think when I walk by and I don't have hair or am wearing a wig. I think about the itchy, uncomfortableness of wig. I feel how light and natural my hair feels on my head right now. I don't hate how my hair looks when I wake up anymore, even if it looks like a complete birds nest. I am just lucky to have it as long as I will. 2. I won't have a normal birthday. I turn 21 in exactly a month, and you don't need a doctor to tell you getting hammered while undergoing chemotherapy is probably not a good idea. I know my health is more important, but why should I even have to go through this? Why can't I celebrate my birthday normally. It's a day I'll never get back. A day that cancer is taking away from me. It makes me want to fight back harder. 3. Going to class/placement will have to be adjusted. Common side effects while undergoing treatment include extreme fatigue, nausea, and vomiting among others. If I was stressed out about classes before, try adding these wonderful side effects on top of it. Not to mention, through the education program, there is a 40 hour per semester requirement for placement hours in an elementary school. On top of these side effects of treatment, being around illness prone first grade children is not a good idea for someone with a suppressed immune system. Not to mention- how do you explain to a class of first graders what caner is or why you are bald? Sometimes I can't even stand to hear the conversations around me. People talk about their problems, but they aren't real problems. They say how stressed out they are. But I'm just as stressed while fighting for my life on top of it. This isn't a game of who's problems are worse than who's, but rather envy on my part of why I can't also have these stupid, normal problems. The other day I was sick to my stomach in one of my classes listening to the girl behind me stress out about how she was going to make it through Halloweek because she as going to be "naughty and drunk" the whole time and wouldn't have time to finish homework. Seriously. On October 19th, I was officially diagnosed with the correct subtype of lymphoma.
I have Diffuse Large B-Cell Primary Mediastinal Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Quite the mouthful, eh? This is one of the two most common types of Lymphoma found in people my age. It is an aggressive lymphoma, which sounds scary, but the good thing is when treated properly, the cure rate is very high. In other words, most people make it out of this thing just fine. The treatment is as follows: 6 cycles of chemotherapy. Each cycle is 3 weeks, totaling about 18 weeks of treatment. Each cycle consists of 5 straight days of chemotherapy infusion through a pick line, and 16 days of rest. My initial appointment was scheduled for the following week, but my symptoms were getting worse. My mom convinced me to go to the Ann Arbor Emergency Room on a Tuesday night (a school night) so we could at least get a PET scan and get the ball rolling. The waiting game was starting to drive her crazy and I thought, what the heck, might as well shut her up.
Come to find out, the Emergency Room does NOT take shortness of breath lightly. Pretty soon, I came to find out that I would be in the hospital for multiple days. The chest X-Ray came back that showed a ton of fluid on my heart and lungs, which is very dangerous. I would have to stay for them to take out the fluid. Then, I would have to be monitored for multiple days to make sure my heart didn't go into shock due to excess fluid. There was only one problem, both my sorority's hayride and my boyfriend's hayride was that Thursday and Friday. For those that don't know, hayride is an event were you go to a cider mill with a fraternity or sorority. There's usually a DJ and a bonfire. It's a really fun night and something that people definitely look forward to every year. I explained to the doctors over and over again that I absolutely could not miss these events, and they laughed in my face and acted like I was crazy. No one seemed to understand what is like to just want to be a normal college senior. This normalcy is seriously something that people take for granted. I know I had taken it for granted for the first 20 years of my life. I ended up staying until Saturday. I finished painting the jugs for hayride in my hospital bed on the bedside table. I sat in my bed, fighting for my life, while all of my friends could just be normal and look forward to these things and experience these things. That's a hard feeling to describe. |