Ch-ch-ch-changes

It's only been 6 weeks since I found out I have cancer.  In those 6 weeks I have become a different person. It has been a difficult transformation that seems to have taken forever in just a moment. Six weeks after all isn't that long at all in the big scheme of things. It's amazing how a reasonable measure of time can feel like an eternity when you're waiting for an answer about a medical test or for a pain or nausea medication to take effect. Then I think about the last concert I went to or when I was out riding 50 miles on my bike with friends and it felt like it was just yesterday. None of these perceptions of time are accurate. Yet all of these things define my life. And it will never be the same.

I can't seem to explain why all of a sudden the sky is so much bluer, the clouds more beautiful, and the scent of a flower more enchanting. Mother nature seems to offer her best to me lately and I couldn't be more humbled to accept her offerings. It's as if through my fog of pain medicine, breakthrough pain, and nausea I am somehow completely clear on the beauty that this world has to offer. And I am thankful.

I've learned to appreciate the little things. Like when my dog, Jude checks on me throughout the day to make sure I'm ok. When I'm not, she let's me know she's there to show me love. She's even let me know when there's something wrong I may not have noticed. Those of you with pets will understand the subtle language of animals. Those who don't, trust me, it's magic.

I no longer feel fear. I felt it a lot in the beginning. When faced with this disease, fear is wasted energy, so I choose not to indulge in it. Why waste the energy? I do sometimes succumb to frustration, but I allow myself that. Some things you have to feel to grow, then know when to let go. So my energy is now focused upon the things that will benefit me and those around me. I have approximately 3 to 5 good hours in a day at this point. Soon I'll have more. Since I only have a finite amount now, I need to budget it and I spend it wisely.

I have opened myself up to love. That frankly makes me sound like a complete sap!  But it fuels me. So if I'm a sap, so be it. I'll take that title. It doesn't really matter. As long as it works. This love has been shown to me by the countless beautiful people who support me every day. The ones who send me messages, call me, visit, and raise money so I can keep up with my bills and I can concentrate on getting better. Even just a thought or prayer by those whose voices I'll never hear, and faces I'll never see, but whose encouragement I always feel have sent me wishes that provide strength to keep me going. And I strive every day to be worthy of such care and sweet, strong verve. My faith in humanity is alive and well because of the multitude of people who spur me on.

I also stop to treasure  the moments I occasionally experience without nausea or pain because those are the truest moments I have now and they are marvelous! Those are the moments I can see my parents aren't worried and they are happy for all of us. They can let go of the concern, even just for a short period. Those moments are the ones I can share with my friends old and new so we triumph together. After all, it's not the bad times or the hard times that define us, it's the things we take from them, the ones after them, the good ones, and the true ones that are significant. No matter the length of time, but the importance of it. All of these wondrous moments have no sense of time. They exist within my spirit. No matter when or how long they are perceived. For they are always.

"Time may change me, but I can't trace time" - David Bowie 

Chemo

I went in for round two. A little nervous and a lot determined.  I didn't know what this round would be like, I was hoping that it would be easier somehow, that it wouldn't be as destructive to my body, and that the pain would be more tolerable. Well it was. The first one was definitely one that made its presence known, but the second was more bearable. It still sucks, but I feel like all the good intentions and all the wonderful shouts of encouragement have helped me fight harder and make this chemo more effective. I learn more about this disease and the things associated with it every day. The truth is that it's hard. The hardest thing I've ever had to do, but the love is amazing. You are all amazing.

This time I went into the infusion center. I would be there for about 5 hours. I started in the front where they accessed my port. This means they put a needle in it with attached tubing. It still feels weird to have something implanted just under my skin for the sole purpose of filling me full of this poison that's going to save my life.

I was then led into the main area. It's a big room filled with recliners and people getting chemotherapy. I chose one in the far corner. It was here that they would hang several drugs so my body would accept the chemo and the 5 succeeding drugs that comprised my cocktail for the day.

They call my chemo drugs "5 FU". A well suited name. It's one of the harshest chemos to endure so I'm told. It apparently has some fantastic results, so I can handle it. I can handle the pain, feeling overheated, the persistent nausea and vomiting, the dizziness, and the exhaustion. The almost fainting spells, my dry and cracking skin, the weird taste bud reactions, my nonexistent appetite,  that cold is painful - even excruciating, these things I can handle.  But this day, they told me one of the most difficult things to digest. I am toxic. They warned my parents not to expose themselves to my bodily fluids. That if I should sweat, throw up, or have an accident, (I'm thankful that this hasn't happened) don't touch it or the clothes or sheets. Use gloves and masks. Wash everything separately. And don't touch my tears. My tears. Can you imagine being a parent and hearing that they can't wipe away their child's tears? That they have to wash their hands so they're not exposed to the poison that their child now is if they do. It oozes out of my pores. I'm filled with it. I have to be careful when I touch my dog as well. My sweet Jude that won't leave my side. No sweat, no tears, etc. Again. But I still fight.

I see how difficult this is on my incredible family. How my beautiful mother holds back her own tears and makes me promise in a shakey voice that I'm going to beat this and how much she loves me. How my father does his best to keep everyone's spirits up, makes my breakfast when I wake, and faces every day with the conviction that his baby is going to be well again. And my sweet brother who wants to be here and lets me know that he's there for me from so far away. Yet they try to hide their emotion.

So I fight harder so that one day they can wipe away my tears of happiness and success and don't have to wash their hands afterwards. I'm stubborn in the belief that this time will one day end and all of the plagues that accompany cancer and chemo will be a distant memory. That my family can love each other without fear and sorrow of this horrific curse. I fight for that day. I believe in that day. And I know that it will come.

What is cancer?

The official definition of the word is...

* the disease caused by an uncontrolled division of abnormal cells in a part of the body.

* a malignant growth or tumor resulting from the division of abnormal cells.

* a practice perceived to be evil or destructive and hard to contain or eradicate 

Nothing fun to choose from here. These are definitions I want nothing to do with, but it wants everything to do with me.  So I'm forced to sit here and give heed to this nasty thing that chose to invade my life. My reluctance is palatable. I've been here studying my foe for a while though. Just sitting back in defiance of its unwanted presence. But I'm learning. I know what it wants. My complete submission. And surrender. And destruction. Yeah... that's not happening.  You can just sit back on your disgusting little laurels and fuck right off.

See I've had a couple days to think while I was in the hospital (again). Due to a bout of nausea, etc. Yes,  this is quite an enemy, but it's not something that I will allow to defeat me. Though it will try. 

Cancer starts by robbing you of your dignity. It takes your strength, and makes you beg for normalcy. You have no appetite, and though you feel like you're eating regularly, the weight just falls off. I'm smaller than I've ever been as an adult, and it freaks me out. No doubt that I'll get smaller before this is all over due to the cancer and the chemo.

I have no pride left. I have now collapsed in public, puked uncontrollably, and been wheeled out on a stretcher while screaming, begging for it to stop as the paramedics do their best to subdue me.

And the pain. The exquisite, impermeable pain. The only thing that gets me through it is knowing that it will end at some point and that someone I love will be on the other side to hold my hand and tell me it's all going to be ok. And it will be.

What it has not, and will not take is my hope. Because that is sacred.

It cannot take the love that I have because it was given to me and it's stronger than any pain I could feel.

It can't touch my determination to beat this thing. Determination is stronger than pride.

These are the pillars and the key to my victory. 

These are the things that will not be defeated.

Facebook: July 3, 2016

Today is 2 days after my first round of chemo. I'm not gonna lie, it's sucked. There are things that they tell you about it, and there are things they leave out. It's the things they leave out that mostly suck, but I guess maybe it's better that you don't know. There's no real way to prep for it anyway. At least now I know what I'm up against. What to expect. It's a pretty big punch, but I can do this.

My ability to overcome is directly related to my love for life. That's a really huge love. I laugh every day in spite of this curse. I think humor is everything, and as long as you've got that, you should have a handle on all of it. Sometimes my family and I just hug each other and break into laughter because in the end, if you laugh, it's a reprieve, a break of sorts, an acknowledgement of "we're in this together and I love you". You take pause with each other and know that it's all going to be worth it in the end. If you just remember to laugh. 

So do me a favor this weekend as you celebrate our independence, hug someone you love, tell them, and have a big belly laugh for me. It'll be the best thing you do.

Happy 4th of July weekend!

Love and light,

~N

Facebook: July 1, 2016

Yesterday I finished my first round of chemo. It feels so good to be able to fight, instead of just laying in a hospital bed waiting for answers like some victim. I feel now, more than ever, that I have the power to conquer this evil. It's not easy, but it's progress. I am now a warrior.

Today I get to leave the hospital and go home to a new life. I'm staying with my incredible parents for a while until I'm stronger. I never thought that living with them again would be so welcome, so warm. I'm so thankful for every day that I am blessed to have them in my life. I cherish every moment of every good wish, every offer of help, and every bit of love that I receive and feel from you all. My friends, my family. My gratitude is endless and my heart is full.

Tomorrow I will plan for a future that will most certainly be beautiful after the battles, after the scars, filled with vision and appreciation for all of the experiences that I will have had along the way. My future will never be taken for granted.

Love and light

~N

________________________

Going home was bittersweet. I wanted nothing more, but I wasn't sure how to handle not having my normal life. This was reality slapping me in the face. It was really making a habit of doing so. 

Facebook: June 28, 2016

My port—AKA my third nipple

Today is my first day of chemo, today is the first day of my fight. As I prepare myself for this battle, I couldn't feel more love, confidence, support, and courage than I've ever felt in my life. On one hand, I'm emotionally overflowing with the amount of compassion and warmth I'm fortunate enough to be at the receiving end of. On the other hand, complete stoicism, because there's a part of this fight to which no emotions belong.

This day marks the start of a war that I never thought I'd have to wage, but this is why I've become the woman I am. I am strong, I am wicked, I am feisty and I've got this. Thank you all for being my army. Today is my first day of chemo, today is the first day of my fight and I will never stop fighting.

Love and light,

~ N

______________________________

This was my battle cry. 

I was answered with the most beautiful responses of support. So much love and pure goodness. I believe I have to succeed. There's no other possible outcome. 

Facebook: June 27, 2016

Hi all! I wanted to let you all know that I've figured out my best sleep times and it seems I do well to rest late night and in the morning. So I'm changing my visiting hours from 1pm-10pm. I'll love to see your smiling faces and get hugs from you, so if you so desire, I'm available during that time. Just shoot me a text and let me know.
Thanks!
~N

Facebook: June 25, 2016

I'm so incredibly moved by the love I've been shown! Thank you all for everything you do for me. Every day, every minute I fight this thing, I am fortified by the show of support and love I get from you. I hope you know I've enjoyed and appreciated all of it.

For those of you that have come to visit, it's been great to see your faces and get hugs! I'm going to ask for a little favor. As much as I love seeing everyone, I've had to create a quiet time between 1-4 every day for a siesta. I thank you guys in advance for the understanding. I just get a little worn out sometimes.

_________________________

I felt compelled to keep this and the next post in this blog because I wanted to touch on the fact that when trying to handle everything all at once, you have to remember to recharge. At this point, I was so desperate for normalcy that my visits were beginning to exhaust me.  Those first few days were excruciating . Trying to get proper pain management, control over nausea, and keep tight diabetic control was nearly impossible. Everyone was so understanding, it truly warmed my heart. 

Facebook: June 23, 2016

By now there are a few that know and a lot who are wondering, so it's time that I filled you all in. Last Wednesday I went to the emergency room at Northside hospital in a lot of pain and was admitted. Throughout the week I've been having tests done and been given a lot of answers.

I'm not the kind of person who likes to air her personal things online, so I've avoided this until now, but it's become too difficult to keep telling this story, so I thank you all for the love and concern. I feel it no matter the distance or time between us. 

There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to blurt it out. The long and short of it is that I have stage 4 colon cancer. I'm going to start chemotherapy very soon and I have a very positive outlook. I have the best doctors and the most incredible family and friends. There is no doubt in my mind that I will beat this, but it's going to take a lot of energy and time. I know I'm surrounded by amazing, loving, strong, people and I draw my strength from that knowledge every moment that I fight this thing.

 Please be patient with me because I may not be able to answer every text, phone call, message, or post, but I see them all and I feel your love and encouragement. I'll do my best to keep up communication. Soon I'm going to attempt to write a blog so I can keep you abreast of what's going on, but it may get difficult to do so. I'll let you know when that happens. Thank you again. 

Sending you all love and light. 

Naomi

____________________

This was how I made my situation known. It's definitely one of the hardest things I've ever written. I shed tears over doing it, for several reasons.

1. I had to share my vulnerability.

I like to portray myself as strong, independent, and fun. I honestly feel that I am. But this was admitting that I wasn't going to be that way for a while.

2. I don't like to publicize my personal life.

I was going against my personal rules of privacy. I'm not used to being so serious in front of a large audience.

3. I was scared.

Putting this in writing meant that it was real. I had to accept that my realty was never going to be the same again. Not only that, I had to admit it to everyone. This was the most difficult one, more than any other reason. For the raw and stinging truth that held itself bare to me.

Incredibly, the outpouring of love and support was so breathtaking that my fearful tears turned into tears of relief and strength. Every post, every picture that someone wrote gave me reserves to fight longer and harder, every message, every phone call made me feel like I had enough to fight this fight. The simple truth of love, friendship, and family gives me unlimited artillery to this day. And for this, I am eternally grateful.