Tag Archives: cancer sucks

Twists & Turns

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At 25 I never expected to know what it’s like to have a catheter put in, but I do now. That’s what happens when you gain 45 pounds in 2 days and physically can’t get out of bed.

Last Wednesday, I had a long day planned for the hospital. I was to go in, get my bone marrow biopsy and then another round of the chemo cocktail. But I was happy because that night, there was a pizza party planned at our little palace as one of my best friends was in from Chicago and staying with Mike and I. Unlucky for me, the pizza party never happened. I had known it would be a long day, 8 hours maybe, but little did I know hours would turn into days/weeks before going home. My mom held my hand as the biopsy was conducted and when it was all done, we went to the “infusion” area to get set up for chemo. Quickly I started getting bad stomach pains that grew into horrific, stabbing pains all over my abdomen. So with that, my mom, my nurse and my doctor rushed over to the ER where we discovered that I had acute pancreatitis. Unlike an appendix that you can just remove, you need your pancreas to live. So the only “cure” is to get on massive pain killers, stop drinking and eating and get absolutely drowned with fluids. I’m talking pumped with so much fluids that I went from 114 pounds Wednesday morning to 160 by Friday. (“Buzz’s girlfriend…WOOF!) As laughable as it is that I gained that much weight, it unfortunately is extremely painful and made me unable to move, stand or walk by myself. Saturday I stood for the first time with lots of help. Sunday I stood for longer and Monday I got a walker to begin to walk again. It’s unbelievable how your body can change so dramatically, so quickly but it can. The good news is that over a week later, I’m recovering nicely and the doctors are proud of how far I’ve come in a short amount of time.

The most frustrating part about this is that the cancer didn’t cause this. This wasn’t one of the shit weeks I’d planned for. This happened unexpected and is a rare side effect that can happen as a result to one of the main forms of chemo that I have been receiving and was planned to continue on for for the next few months. Now, however, I won’t be able to get that kind of chemo because the risks are just too great of this happening again and the outcome being more dramatic than a 45 pound weight gain.

I like to think that I’ve gotten good at taking what life throws at me but this is a hard one to shake. I mean, not to be a baby, but isn’t leukemia enough? Why’d I have to also get pancreatitis? Do I not already have enough restrictions in my life that it was necessary to now add extreme dietary ones? Have I not been poked and prodded enough or did I really need to have more things stuck into me? It just seems so unfair. I feel like I got struck by lightening and then a cat came and pissed right on me. Just so unnecessary.

But unnecessary as it seems to me right now, that’s life and I’ve gotta roll with the punches. My new goal is getting out of this hospital (although I was lucky enough to get back on the best floor in town and have the best nurses in the entire world. Kristen if you’re reading this, THANK YOU AGAIN, you an angel!) and get back to my bed and my life.

I’m off to have some chicken broth for breakfast. Thanks for letting me vent and I’ll end on a GREAT note: in the midst of everything going on this weekend, my doctor came in with the results from my bone marrow biopsy on Wednesday and my marrow was completely clear of any leukemia cells!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU GOD!!!!

Xoxox,
Jess

PS here’s a highlight of the week
when my niece came to visit after not seeing her in over a month!! (She was being a world traveler instead of hanging in Manch, NBD)

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Foggy Days

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Foggy. You can’t see clearly. You can’t think clearly. You can’t feel clearly. Just like with fog on an ocean dock, fog inhibits you from seeing what lies ahead of you.  And that’s how I feel. My whole being feels foggy. Unable to see the brightness of days that inevitably lie ahead. Bogged down by sadness and frustration; physical pain and exhaustion.

Last week was hard. Really hard. This week is better but still hard. It all seems like SO much. So overwhelming. So many medications, chemotherapy and brain radiation sure has a way of making you feel out of it, making you feel not you. And that’s exactly how I’ve felt, not myself. In a way, I feel disconnected to my own life. Like I am in somebody else’s crappy body. Somebody else’s negative mind. I’m a happy person. To my core, I’m happy. I love life. I love smiling. I love laughing. I genuinely enjoy being positive. I get excited over little things. And I love that. So when I feel unhappy, when I feel like it’s an effort to smile or to laugh or to get excited, it doesn’t feel like me. And that hurts. That’s a pain that no spinal tap can replicate.

As Mike and I were watching Father of the Bride 2 and Nina was just about to have the baby, she looked up at George Banks and said “Isn’t this just so amazing?” I instantly got emotional. Not because I was so moved by the film but because I felt so jealous of Nina. (she’s a character, I know.) But I felt so jealous that she was lying in a hospital bed, just like I had been all week, and that she got an incredible baby at the end of it. I want a baby, I thought. Because a baby is a miracle, a blessing. A baby truly is amazing. Now, don’t go all “omg she wants a baby?!?!?!” on me because clearly I don’t want a baby right this second but watching this character receive so much joy brought me a sense of sadness because that “amazing” feeling seems so far away. Sounds so dumpy, I know, but it’s how I felt.

But then I sit here, writing that paragraph out and I know in my heart it’s not true. It’s exactly how I felt. 100% truth. Whole-heartedly how I looked at that moment. But as I reread what I write, I know that although it’s sometimes so hard to remember that there’s an end to this race, that there’s a light to the end of this tunnel, I have faith that there will be brighter, happier, fog-free days ahead. In fact, those special, amazing moments, although they may not be as obvious or glamorous as some of life’s big moments, they’re still here. Despite it all, amazing things are still happening to me.

Like when a complete stranger came up to me at the Michael Buble concert on Friday and told me to be strong and that my hair would grow back more beautiful than ever. That she had “been there, done that” and that everything was going to be okay. That’s amazing. She doesn’t know me, she doesn’t know my story or my diagnosis but somehow this woman knew that I needed that little push last week. I needed to be reminded that this too shall pass. I needed a little miracle. And in that moment, my mind felt anything but foggy. It felt clear and precise and happy because I was meant to be there, finding comfort from a complete stranger. That was meant to happen to me. Now that, that’s amazing.

XOXO,

Jessy

p.s. Speaking of amazing, here are some pics from our family vacation on the Cape last week!

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I get knocked down, but I get up again.

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This week I had plans to make delicious meals like grilled buffalo chicken sandwiches, to go out with girls from work for dinner, tackle the mounting pile of laundry in my closet, practice yoga, and enjoy the hot weather that’s finally hit New England. Instead, I’ve been at the Brigham since Sunday night. Instead, I’ve been lying in a hospital bed almost continuously for 4 days. I spiked a fever on Sunday night after getting home from spending time with my dad and Bumpa for Father’s Day. Halfway through our attempt at watching Frozen, we were packed and on our way to the emergency room. After getting blood taken in both arms, a new IV put in, x rays, urine tests and a CT scan done, I was on my way to 4C, Room 56 (could’t even get into my resort 7D). Worst. Sunday night was scary. Really scary. I couldn’t stop the bad thoughts from racing through my head. What was wrong?  Am I not responding to the chemo correctly? Am I having some sort of allergic reaction to all the medicine I’m on? Could it be that the leukemia has come back?? Unfortunately, I still don’t have an “answer” as all the tests that have been run have come back negative. But this is actually a good thing as it means most likely this infection is due to my extremely low counts and my body being unable to fight off anything because of all the chemo.
(this is a pic from the ER on Sunday night. I thought twice about taking it, and thought three times about posting it. But it is what it is. And that’s what a chemo patient looks like in the ER with a fever. #nofun)
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My whole body ached, my head pounded, I couldn’t keep down any food or water and I could barely stay awake for more than an hour— I felt so physically and mentally exhausted these past four days. And then yesterday it all just sunk in and made me angry, made me grumpy. I had Mike hold a pillow so I could hit it as hard as I possibly could for about 5 minutes. I sobbed uncontrollably when the nurse was changing my IV line. Because it hurt? Yes, it hurt, but I cried because at that moment, as Coldplay of course was playing in the background (what’s wrong with me always listening to them when I’m sad), I just couldn’t take it, I just couldn’t take any of this anymore. I hit a wall. I don’t want people poking me and sticking me with things or ripping tape off of my extremely sensitive arms (a side effect of chemo is that your skin can become very sensitive to touch), I don’t want to feel like shit and be sleeping all day. I don’t want to be trapped inside while the sun is finally shining and the air is hot and inviting. I don’t want any of this, I kept thinking. I want my life back, as simple as that. It’s something I’ve said a lot on this blog, and something that has gone through my head probably 1000 times more. I just want my life back. So in between apologies from my nurse who thought she was borderline killing me from the sounds of my sobs, and Mike stroking my arm and saying everything’s going to be okay, I was able to pull myself together and stop the dramatics. Once she left, I beat the pillow. I had to. I had to physically get out how angry I felt. I’m obviously angry about this situation in general, but I felt angry about being here this week. I didn’t plan on this. This isn’t part of my “schedule.” Everything I had planned to do this week is pushed off now or cancelled. And that’s why this time feels so different.  This is another interruption of the already-interuppted life I’m living right now. And I hate the interruption. The other times I’ve come in (other than obviously the first time) I’ve been prepared and ready for it. This time I’m just sitting here feeling ripped off, feeling sick and feeling frustrated. I’m trying hard to stay positive, to continue to try to enjoy everything I possibly can. Like going boating this past weekend to celebrate one of my best friends 25th birthday. Days like that make me feel alive and make me feel so happy and so thankful that I’m able to still enjoy a day like that. Because those days are special and I know it. But it’s hard, it’s hard to always come back to those happy moments when you’re feeling beaten. As much as I try, sometimes thinking of bright days ahead just doesn’t do the trick in the moment. But then again, I got to feel that sun on Saturday. I got to laugh. I got to feel the ocean spritz on my face. I got to dance. I got to enjoy myself for a day. That’s more than some people can say.
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So as always, I feel a little better after this blog post. I needed to get out how kicked down I’m feeling. Because I’m not doing silly dances or arts and crafts this week. This week I’m struggling. This week I’m reminded that I’m in the thick of this horrible disease. I’m only 4 months into this long journey but I’ve still come a long way and I have a lot to be proud of and thankful for. There will be more rough weeks ahead, that’s for sure, but there will also be days like Saturday, on the boat with good friends and good food. That’s what will get me through.
Back to resting and getting rid of this fever.
XOXO,
Jessy

Count On It

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I was looking at my Instagram account this morning. Flicking through picture after picture and quickly, I got to “BC” pics, or “Before Cancer.” I’ve looked at old pictures a lot in the past three months, there’s a sense of such warmth and goodness to looking at smiles on my friends and family faces. And smiles on myself, reminding me of a life that I was living and loved so much. However, today when I was looking at these pictures, it felt like a previous time. Like a past life. A time that I’ll never get back. Because the truth is, I really will never get it back. I’ll never be the same girl I was when I rang in 2014. But in all honesty, how could I ever think I would be the same person? It wouldn’t make any sense. As with anything difficult in life, you can’t go through it and stay the same person. Isn’t that the whole point of the journey? I remember ringing in the New Year and thinking about just how amazing 2014 was going to be. I had just moved in with Mike a few months before and things were going swimmingly. I had just gotten my first promotion and would be beginning to work on a new brand, doing new and exciting things. I had an adorable 4 month old niece who I loved more than I knew was possible. I had amazing friends and an amazing family. I was feeling truly at the right place at the right time. I was feeling like this was my time. Things were falling into place and years of hard work were starting to come together. I could see clearly of where I was headed, what I wanted to do. And then January 14th I woke up in the middle of the night with the feeling like a tractor trailer was crushing my tailbone. It would take over a month to figure out what that crushing feeling was exactly but I think of that moment now as so symbolic. Symbolic of how quickly life can change. How quickly things can completely take a different turn. Logically, I know that that wasn’t the exact moment that the leukemia hit my blood stream but in my mind, I think of it like that. I think of it like I went to bed on January 13th a normal, healthy 24 year old and I woke up, on January 14th with my life being crushed and ran over by the leukemia tractor trailer. What’s even more symbolic is the fact that I would be struck by this disease, by this horrible, horrible disease on the very day that person who has saved me through all of this was born. January 14th is Mike’s birthday. Mike has made me laugh when nobody else can. He’s made me smile when I’m grumpy. He’s given me hugs when I don’t want to be touched. He’s kissed my forehead when tears are running down my face. He’s made me genuinely happy…happy in a time when I could never have imagined being happy. He truly is my angel. And so it feels fitting that my modern-day angel would be born on the day that I began to truly need him, to depend on him in all the ways a person can really depend on someone other than their self.

As I’m sitting here at my kitchen table writing this post, I’ve lost all sense of my emotions. (it’s probably not helping that Florence & the Machines are on in the background and it’s raining heavily outside). But I can’t stop crying and I don’t really know why. I’m having such mixed emotions. I feel so physically and mentally exhausted today. But at the same time, I feel sharp. Recounting in my head all that I’ve been through and thinking about all I will continue to go through has brought me to a sense of clarity. Maybe it is still my time after all.
The question “Why me?” has gone through my head a thousand times. I’ve probably thought it 10 times just sitting here writing this post. But it suddenly dawned on me that I should stop questioning “why me” and try to feel grateful for being “chosen” to go through this journey. If I view it as something I was chosen for rather than something that just unfortunately “happened” to me, it gives this whole experience a bigger purpose. So why was I chosen? Why me? Because I can deal with it. Because I am so much stronger and better than this disease. Because I am blessed with family and friends that are so much better and bigger than this disease. Because I will walk away from this disease and be a better person. A stronger person. A more caring person. A more giving person. A person that helps others and makes a difference in the world. “AC” Jessy will be so much better than “BC” Jessy.
Count on it.
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XOXO,
AC Jessy

Resort 7D

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Yesterday was one of the most nerve-racking days of my life. And then, it was one of the happiest.
 
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Living with the possibility that the leukemia had come back was terrifying and a thought i had trouble really wrapping my head around. I could barely sleep Monday night and literally felt nauseous all morning Tuesday until I met with my doctors. But then I met with them and the many, many prayers from myself, my family and friends were answered. “There are no signs of cancer cells in your bones or blood.” I was overcome with such elation and relief– like a 1,000 pound weight had just been lifted off my shoulders. It was incredible. It is incredible. You know when people say, “I felt like I had won the lottery”? Well, yesterday I won the best lottery you can win. So I am ecstatic and energetic to get this next round of chemo started. It seems funny to celebrate “no cancer cells being found” with more chemotherapy but that’s the way it goes (and will go) so I’m all about this chemo cocktail for the next few days in order to continue to rid my little body of this terrible disease. Officially in BEAST MODE. 
 
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(scratch that, I began beast mode last week during my bone marrow biopsy) 
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When I was checking into the Brigham yesterday, I literally couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I was practically hopping down the hospital halls, I was in just SUCH a good mood. As we bounced on over to the admitting offices, carrying a suitcase, two bags, my pillow/blanket and of course, Uncle Fred, there was a family in front of us, also carrying such items and for a second, it reminded me of when you’re checking into a hotel for a vacation. It somehow seemed “normal” and exciting. So I decided then that for the next five days, I’m not locked up in a hospital but instead I’m staying at an all-inclusive resort with luxury of on-call staff. How wonderful! After pleading my case, I was able to get back on my old floor, 7D. Thank you Jesus!! Two miracles in one day? Lucky girl! I absolutely fell in love with those nurses, (aka my resort personal assistants), and I’ve missed seeing them so I’m thrilled to be back and chat with them all! 
 
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(pic from yesterday waiting for my bed to open up. Both feeling so happy and so relieved) 
 
So around 5pm, after my room was pristinely cleaned and prepped, I checked into Resort 7D, room 76. Overall, super swaggy. The view is magnificent and should make for a great therapeutic writing area.
 
 
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Plus, the bench in front of the window is roomy enough to be my make-shift yoga mat and allows me to feel the sun and soak up some Vitamin D— what every dream vacation is made of. 
 
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The TV is flat screen, SCORE. And it’s ingeniously connected to a remote hooked up to my bed which is how we get sound. Super tech savvy. Extra points! 
 
The shower could have been constructed a bit more logically, rather than directly next to the toilet with no floor lip, causing massive chaos and flooding every time one goes to clean themselves. However, it gains additional points as the water pressure is legit and that’s obviously super important. Lastly, the flooding, although shocking, creates a sense of adventure so I score the bathroom a B. 
 
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The bed scores a B as well. The sheets are a bit paper-like but my own personal blanket, Fluffy and Uncle Fred add some softness and overall coziness. The score gets upgraded due to it’s super cool ability to move up and down the back and foot rest. Perfect for elevating my feet after a grueling day on the Brigham island. 
 
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The overall design of the room is quite unique and intriguing. Some of my personal favorite pieces are the goal chart white board, varying sizes of examination glove boxes, and by far the best piece…a biohazardous “sharps” depository. Art deco scores high at an A.
 
The staff here is top-notch, and basically my BFF’s. They are attentive, caring and most importantly, chatty! (or is it just me always chatting to them?? who knows. ) Plus, they rock bright colored, fashionable scrubs like you’ve never seen. They score an A++.
 
Most importantly, Fluffy and Uncle Fred are sincerely enjoying themselves. 
 
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This morning I enjoyed a glorious breakfast in bed: a delish bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, fruit salad and a coffee. Relaxed in front of my bay window and enjoyed the view. In addition, went for a long walk all around the resort in my gray sweatpants and keds; riding the escalators up and down, using the revolving doors, and aggressively marching around to burn some cals. All-in-all coming close to being one of those power walkers at the mall. It was a proud moment.
 
Overall, day number one of vacation is going great. My own bed will feel great on Monday for sure, but the Slomerville view’s got nothin’ on Resort 7D’s. 
 
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XOXO,

Jessy 

Just Keep Going

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It’s Tuesday after Memorial Day Weekend which is always a bummer. A long weekend long awaited for is over. And even though I’m not currently working I still somehow feel the “Monday blues” (or in this case the Tuesday blues). Weekends I’m not alone, I’m not in the hospital, I get to “get out” and do things. So with or without work, I’ve learned that weekends are always the best. This long weekend seemed extra awesome— I felt so grateful to be feeling strong and getting to spend time with my love, my friends and my family. What more can you ask for?
This Sunday, Mike and I did something we never really do… we went to church. My Grammy had mentioned that the Old North Church in Boston (“One if by land, and two if by sea” church) still holds masses so we decided to go to the 11am. History and a little spiritual pick-me-up… not a bad combination. Plus, today’s a big day (stilllllllll anxiously awaiting to hear from my doctors) so I thought putting in an extra prayer in the big man’s house might not be too bad of an idea. After scurrying in at 11:05, we sat down in our own pew (which in this church is like your own little penalty box. Big fan). I always dreaded church growing up, couldn’t get myself to pay attention (gotta be honest, still have a hard time), and never really understood what they were talking about. But this time felt different since I chose to go myself. So as I sat there in a little pew right next to the windows, in a place that I don’t think has been updated since 1772, I was surprised as I realized how much I was enjoying myself.
The minister gave a quick homily as there was a baptism also during this mass.  To be honest, I don’t exactly remember what the whole homily was about but I do remember this: she told a story about how Jesus had said to his disciples to just keep going (regarding what, I have no clue. Exhibit A of my attention span). She looked out to all of us, and urged us too, to just keep going. That line rang through my head the rest of the mass, “just…keep…going.” I felt like she was speaking directly to me… I felt like I came to this mass specifically to hear those words. I needed to hear those words as those three words are exactly what I have to do. I need to keep pushing on, keep moving forward, keep keeping my head up, keep being positive, keep being happy, keep being thankful…. I need to just keep going.
The past few weeks have been hard. I’ve been so anxious about whether or not the leukemia has come back that I’ve felt like I’m sitting on pins and needles.  But at the end of the day, the results I’ll get tonight or tomorrow are out of my control. Letting the “what if’s” take hold does nothing but bring me down and cause chaos in my head. Those fleeting moments, however, create a feeling like I can’t keep going, like this is all just too much. But then I do things that make me smile, like going for long walks, doing yoga, dancing around by myself to One Direction, accepting nightly back rubs from Mike (he really is the best), or even taking out my aggression on a Bozo the clown blow-up doll. Those things, as trivial as they are, make me feel good, they make me feel alive, and rejuvenated. And because of those little things in life, I’m able to realize I can absolutely do this. That this is A LOT but it’s not something I can’t handle. I can keep on keepin’ on.
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I hope you all had a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend and are able to make it through the work week. But if you’re feeling the Tuesday Blues right now, remember…JUST.KEEP.GOING.
XOXO,
Jessy

All You Need Is Love…and Friendship

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I haven’t written a blog post in a week. I’ve started them, but haven’t been able to finish. I’ve wanted to write one but haven’t been able to find the right words for how I’ve been feeling. Because quite honestly, I’ve been feeling just about everything but inspirational. I still don’t know if I have the “right” words to say but I do know that it’s healthy for me to get out how I’m feeling and that’s what I shall do. Because my hope is that one day, I’ll read this back and it’ll be just a reminder of what I went through and how far I’ve come. And I gotta be honest, I can’t wait for that day. So March 26, 2016 (two years from remission)— get at me.
Last week, I received an email from Dr. Mandi (one of my two absolutely fabulous doctors). I had asked for some sort of outline of the next two years so I could get a better understanding of what was really ahead of me. So I got it, just like I had requested, and it scared the absolute hell out of me. Two years of treatment spelled out in front of me. Two years of a lot of procedures, appointments and chemotherapy. Two years of my life not being my normal life, not being the one I want to live. And being not even two months “in,” it pushed me over a cliff of anxiety, sadness and anger. This past week was hard… both physically and mentally. My body is achey. My head is still pounding from a spinal tap I got 10 days ago. I’m tired, really tired. But worse than the physical annoyances, I’ve been mentally struggling to stay above water. I felt so many emotions and none of them were positive. I felt sad, lonely, overwhelmed, confused, and honestly, pretty pissed off. Pissed off that so many important things in my life have been pushed back or paused. Pissed off that my whole life I’ve always tried to make healthy choices for myself and this still happened. Pissed off that things like taking a shower is a production. I found myself being jealous of complete strangers for reasons like they have long hair or are jogging or walking a dog. I was finding myself having to talk myself out of bed in the morning. And so when Dr. Mandi’s email came and I read, line by line, how intense the next two years will be, it scared me, because I felt like I can’t handle two years of weeks like this.
All in all, I was having a big pttty party for myself and I knew it. But I couldn’t snap myself out of it.
But then Thursday night came and for the first time in days, I went to bed with a big smile on my face. Not because I felt physically any different than the rest of the week, and not because I magically was feeling more positive. Thursday was different because it was the start of a weekend with three of my best friends… one who lives in Boston, one who lives in Chicago and one who lives in North Carolina. And the excitement of spending an entire weekend with my girlfriends was just the medicine I needed. Our time together was different than a typical girls weekend, consisting mostly of ‘lounging’ and relaxing but simply being together took my mind off of everything else and made me happy. So the power of friendship prevailed over anxiety, anger and sadness. Prevailed just when I needed it to. Just when I couldn’t pick myself up on my own. Friends and laughter and love picked me up and gave me something to look forward to and be thankful for and to simply enjoy. Because snuggling on the couch, watching trashy tv, eating candy and making each other giggle is one of the most enjoyable pastimes a girl could ever ask for.
Now my girlfriends have all gone home and it’ll be just me again this week but I feel different than I did on Thursday morning. I feel different because I’ve been reminded that these next two years won’t all be like last week. Some will be, yes. But there will also be a lot of days that are happy and fun and enjoyable. And those are the days that I’m going to think about and look forward to when I begin to put on my pitty party hat again.
So CHEERS to fabulous girlfriends!
XOXO,
Jessy
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p.s. this Sunday I’m thankful for 1. my girlfriends (duhhh), 2. Uncle Fred (my adorable stuffed bear), and 3. the weather finally starting to warm up (but lets face it, I could use another 20 degrees warmer).

Hard Day Down, One Step Closer

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Disclaimer: This is not a sunny post. I need to get out how I’m feeling right now and right now, I’m a little cloudy… cloudy with no chance of North End meatballs.

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Yesterday I received extremely positive news— I’m officially in remission! REMISSION!!! Meaning that when they pulled my bone marrow on Wednesday, it came back clear of any cancer cells. Hallelujah! However, factually, they know that if we do not continue to fight the cancer cells they will absolutely come back. So continue to fight we will.
But I found myself unable to truly feel the excitement that should have accompanied this amazing news. News that my body is kicking some serious ass. News that I am going to live. L-I-V-E. This is huge news, obviously, but I felt so little relief. I had become overwhelmed with emotional and physical pain yesterday. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were, to say it simply…a lot. I had prepared myself for Wednesday but not Thursday and Friday. I hadn’t understood that I would be back in the hospital so quickly and was feeling so frustrated about it. I also hadn’t been able to prep myself for how I would physically feel… which was terrible. My whole body ached. Every joint hurt when I moved, or laughed. My head felt like a tractor trailer was sitting on top of it— and the only thing that brought any relief was to sit in the dark (and lets face it, I’m all about that light!) And then the nausea started and I couldn’t keep anything down. And throwing up sucks. No better way to put it.

So after blood being drawn, an ultra sound of my stomach and back, a check-in with my doctor and six hours of being in one out-patient room to get a few rounds of chemo, I finally was being transported by wheel chair to the overnight room I’ll be in for the next few days. With a splitting headache and my mom holding my hand, I began to get extremely nauseous and became “that person” getting wheeled by a stranger while puking their brains out into a plastic bucket. Crying. It was one of those moments. A moment I don’t think I’ll ever forget because I’m not sure I’ve ever felt lower or more beaten in my life. Not because of the pain but because of the way it made me feel about myself. It was embarrassing and down right demoralizing. I wanted nothing more than to grab Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak and hide. Better yet, I wanted to wake up from what I feel like is a horrible nightmare. But I can’t. Because it’s not a nightmare, it’s my life right now. And as much as that sucks, it’s life. It’s my life and it’s still a good one. In fact, it’s a great one. And I’m lucky to be here. Even in low moments like that one.

Around midnight I was able to get on medication for what was causing all my symptoms and it’s helped a lot. At 3am I got hooked up to a type of chemo that runs into my veins for 24 hours straight… so I’ll be here at the Brigham for a while but feeling much better today am going to try to do some things I enjoy. Like blog. and paint. and sleep— hopefully!

So all-in-all, not my favorite few day but those days are now in the past and that means I’m one step closer to winning this game. I thought I’d leave you with a fab quote that my dad said yesterday as he sat by my side all day, 9am to 10pm. As the true sports announcer he is, he compared my remission news into a perfect Boston sports analogy… “When the C’s were murdering the Lakers in Game 6 of the 2008 NBA Finals, they didn’t stop playing hard at the half when they were ahead by over 20. They kept fighting and kept playing their asses off until the buzzer hit 00:00 because they knew that’s what they had to do to win the game.” And win they did… by a NBA Finals’ record of 39 points. And that’s what I’m going to do too— keep on kicking ass and keep on playing as hard as I can. Because I’m a competitor and I’m gonna win this game.

Thanks for listening. I’m jumping back on my positive party in just a few minutes.

XOXO,
Jessy

Feeling Anxious

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Remember when I said “anxiety leading up to a challenge is more than half the battle”? Definitely true but definitely easier to talk about than put into action. Just how do you you go about conquering that anxiety? How do you go about taking control of your mind when something has you worried? That’s an answer I just don’t have right now. And as of right now, anxiety has struck.

Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow I go for my first “outpatient” procedure at the Dana Farber Institute to have tests done that will determine if chemo is working properly and I can be considered in “remission.” At that point, I will get a more detailed plan of what my next two years will look like. That will be determined by having bone marrow pulled – a procedure I’ve unfortunately already had done and therefore already know, to be frank, how much it REALLY sucks. And so I’m anxious. Anxious about the physical pain. More anxious about the results. And although I know that getting myself worked up about it isn’t going to help make tomorrow any easier, it’s really hard to control these feelings. So for this battle, I really am hoping that anxiety is truly more than half of it…because that, my friend, means I’m already headfirst into the fight.    

I’ve gotten through it before and I can get through it again. That much I know and that much I will continue to tell myself until this time tomorrow night. Because tomorrow night at this time, I will be back home, on my comfy couch, with the love of my life sitting next to me, eating a bowl of ice cream that I wish could turn into a glass of red. 

XOXO,

Jessy