Tag Archives: hard times

And the drinking saga continues

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Warning: this is a ranting post but I need to rant.

The combination of leukemia and pancreatitis CAN SUCK BRICK KID! (reference to Home Alone 2, anyone?) I feel like I’m one year behind and a thousand years to go to end this hell. I was starting to feel normal again; back at work, going out with friends, having drinks. But as of this Wednesday (and again tonight), I got the lecture of a lifetime about not drinking for the next year. NOT DRINKING? But I just started to be able to have drinks again! I JUST had my first dirty martini. I JUST had my first bloody in a year. I JUST had a great weekend out with friends, laughing, drinking and dancing. I want more than anything to feel like a normal 26 year old, like my normal, happy, carefree self. It’s my favorite holiday of the year this weekend, St. Patricks Day. Isn’t it illegal to not have Guinesses? If it isn’t, it should be. I know I’ve complained about not being able to drink a  decent amount in the past but this is just something I haven’t been able to get used to. It’s such a big part of social life, whether we all like it or not. My grandparents drink, my parents drink, my boyfriend drinks, my friends drink, my co-workers drink. I declined an after work event yesterday because I didn’t want to have to go and be the only one to have water, or god forbid have to explain why I can’t drink. It’s literally all around me, all the time.

Maybe if it was the only thing that had been taken away from me in the past year, it would be easier. But it’s not. Too many things have been taken away and I’m getting frustrated. Like my first trip outside the country to the Dominican Republic- CANCELLED. To not being able to go to Marathon Monday, the greatest day in Boston. To having my career be put on hold for 11 months and then to get demoted for having cancer by the time I get back (shows the real heart of corporate America). To losing my hair, having it grow back and then have it thin again so I look like a balding old man. To not being able to eat normal foods for months and being on a feeding tube. To STILL having to watch what I eat — like when having a cupcake on my birthday almost sent me into pancreatitis number 5. To spending about 100 days in the hospital in 2014 and not in my own bed. To having this push off personal milestones (like an engagement ring, anyone?!?)
I cried twice since being home from work in less than an hour. Sometimes it’s just too much and right now, to be honest, I’m overwhelmed as all hell. I’m working long hours, way more than 40 a week, and for something that I’m just going through the grind over. Now, after long ass work weeks, more than ever do I want a glass of wine. I want to relax. I want to go out with friends and get silly and dance in bars. I want normalcy. I want my life back.
I try to remind myself that this is not what’s important. What’s important is that I’m getting stronger and getting healthier. But having drinking basically tabled again really set me back mentally. As Dr. Mandy reminded me tonight, I’m not normal yet and I can’t begin to think that I am. I have a full year of treatment ahead of me. A regimen that’s reduced but not easy. A regimen that puts a big strain on my body, both mentally and physically.
So as I sit here tonight, not having the Sam Adams Cold Snap that’s in my fridge (and calling my name), I’ll try to remind myself that I’m lucky to be here, lucky to have the people in my life and lucky to have the doctors I do to tell me what’s up and remind me what’s important, even if I REALLY don’t want to hear it.
End rant.
XOXO,
Jessy
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One Year Ago Today

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A year ago today, I woke up like it was any other day. Got dressed for work and headed to Framingham. That would be the last time I go to work for 11 months. Later that day, while sitting in a team meeting, I would begin to get shooting pains down my back and legs so bad that I could barely stay in my seat. I hurried back to my desk to try to walk it out but nothing worked. Within a few minutes, I found myself in a maternity room downstairs rolling around in pain on the floor and calling my mom hysterically crying. At that point, I would call my friend Amanda and ask her to drive me to the hospital. It was an abnormally beautiful February day (nothing like today) and we were able to put the windows down. I remember laughing and making jokes through the pain and putting my face towards the sun and really feeling it on my face, feeling the wind go through my hair. Although I had no clue what was about to happen, I remember the car ride so vividly and feeling a sense of surrealness while making our way to the hospital. We waited there for quite sometime and then my dad came through the door. We finally got taken into a room where I was told, for the what seemed like 100th time, that I just had back pain, most likely sciatica nerve pain. I was then brought into a room where I was able to start listing off the additional ailments that had been going on; nose bleeds, bruises, blood blisters, headaches. Quickly that got the attention of the doctor and they immediately wanted to take bloodwork. At that point, Mike had showed up. A few minutes later, my mom showed up and we both instantly started crying when she gave me a hug. It was like we knew, something was about to go wrong. Maybe our lives were about to be turned upside down. And then it was. A doctor walked in the room and precisely asked my family members to leave. I knew that wasn’t a good sign. She then sat down next to me and took my hand as she said the words that the blood work had come back and it appeared that I had leukemia. I was stunned. I didn’t cry, I didn’t hyperventilate. I was still…numb. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, I couldn’t believe the words she had just said. And what I couldn’t do is tell my family. So that’s when I asked her to please call my family back in and be the ones to tell them. I’ll never forget the look on Mike’s face when she said the words that I had leukemia. It was the worst thing I had ever seen, and I think the worst thing I’ll ever see. It was a face of sadness, panic, pure worry. It was like looking in a mirror of what I was feeling. Then it all became a whirlwind. We had to pick a hospital to go to and my mom and I got in the back of an ambulance and I was rushed over to the Brigham. At that point, I had no idea that I wouldn’t feel fresh air for almost a month. I also had no idea that I was about to meet some of the most genuine, caring and wonderful individuals I would ever have the pleasure of knowing. One waiting for me in the emergency room. My very own angel, Dr. Mandy. She stood there as I got wheeled in and immediately took my hand and looked into my eyes. She could tell how scared I was, how overwhelmed myself and my whole family was. And she reassured us that everything would be okay. She held my hand the whole time she talked and told me that she was going to cure me, she was going to make me better. And although I had only known her for a few short minutes, I believed everything she said. I instantly trusted her with my life. I would then get taken up to a holding area for the night, that had a lovely metal toilet right next to my bed. That would be the first night that Mike would stay with me, he didn’t leave my side for the next 27 days. He would barely sleep that night. With plenty of drugs, I would sleep on and off the rest of the night and wake up the next morning to get hours and hours of tests done to see exactly what strand of leukemia I had. It’d be a painful, long day but a day that would end up telling me that, Dr. Mandy was right– everything was going to be okay.

That was all a year ago today. Last year when it was all happening, I knew what was going on, but I was in crisis mode, a shell of a person, just trying to do whatever I could to get myself better. I was surrounded by family, friends, nurses and doctors at all times so there wasn’t that much time to reflect. A year later, and I feel like it’s important for me to remember exactly what last year on this day entailed. It almost doesn’t feel real that an entire year has passed. It was by far the hardest year of my life, most trying and difficult time I’ve ever experienced. But I also learned so much about life, about the wonderful people in mine and the things that are truly important. Things I never would’ve realized without this journey; it’s a journey I never would have asked for but as I march through it, I realize that I’m so blessed. I’m still here a year later, I’m about to turn 26 and all my labs look great. What more could I ask for? Absolutely nothing. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that health is everything. Today is a sad day as I reflect on how my life changed so drastically but it also is a good day, I’m so much healthier than I was a year ago today. I’ve made it so far in a year and I have so much to be thankful for.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all those who have reached out with kind words, prayed for me, sent me positive vibes, cards, care packages, and simply shown me love in the past year. I cannot tell you how much it has all meant to me and what a difference it truly made. I love you all.
XOXO,
Jessy
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Hard Times, Good Times

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I started writing this blog post last week and never finished. I went back and read it this morning and realized in one short week how things have already changed. Here’s what I wrote…

“The past four months have probably been the worst four months of my life. Not the most uplifting way to start a blog post but it’s the truth. During these months, I’ve struggled to stay positive and truly feel happy. Partially because of the unexpectedness of the pancreatitis. It seems so unfair that I would get that on top of leukemia. Because other than that my chemo caused the pancreatitis, it has nothing to do with the cancer. It’s only delayed my treatment, caused me a lot of pain and laid me up in the hospital three too many times. …. even when I’m doing “fun” things, my mind races to that things aren’t normal. That I can’t have a drink. That I can’t have a french fry. That I have to be home early to hook up to a feeding tube. That I’ve simply been hooking up to a feeding tube for over two months now. That I’m not at work. The list goes on and on. 
 
I’m hoping that the end of this funk is coming near as sometime in January I’ll be FINALLY going back to work and I think that will help immensely. But I wanted to write this blog post so I remember how I felt at this moment. These days are long and tiring. Each day I feel different, whether it be emotional or physical. I have a hard time sleeping and my mind always seems to run back to “i have cancer.” I spend half the day sleeping and another portion watching TV. I can’t take that anymore. I want to do, I want to be productive. But sometimes it’s too hard, I’m too tired. Today I was tired. I got out of my pajamas at 4 o’clock to run to the grocery store to get things for Thanksgiving. I love being in pajamas but when that’s all you have everyday, getting dressed up becomes a privilege. Overall, things have just been really tough.”

Well it’s funny what a few days, family, friends and good food can do. I had the best four days I’ve had in a really long time. Thanksgiving was wonderful as I got to see my whole family and grandparents and snuggle with my love bug of a niece. Then Friday I got to see a bunch of my best friends from high school at a fabulous Friendsgiving party! Saturday, Mike and I got our Christmas tree and started decorating for Christmas (my ballerina reindeer are up which makes this girl VERY happy). Then we headed out to a housewarming/birthday party at one of our good friends house which was a blast. Sunday we just stayed around the house and decorated for Christmas, made some turkey chili and watched the Pats. It was a busy but perfect few days and it was just what I needed to help get me out of that funk. I felt so happy to see my friends and family and get to spend four days with Mike. Times like this weekend I’m reminded why I’m so blessed. It helped change my mindset and brought me a sense of happiness that I haven’t felt these past four months. There are still hard days ahead (most likely a lot of them) and I will have to keep working on feeling normal and feeling happy but I’m thankful for last weekend as it brought both those things back into my life.
XOXO,
Jessy
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Glorious Life

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I did something stupid today. I clicked and clicked and clicked through old pictures on Facebook. One by one I went further and further back in time. It was like sinking into a hole. A hole of memories of fun times, times with my family and friends and even coworkers that I want back so bad. Looking back at these pictures make me smile because I’ve had such an amazing life but they bring me down as well because I miss that life so much. Mike and I used to always say we have such a “glorious life.” After fun weekends and things we’d do together, we’d always look at each other and say “ughh glorious life, glorious life!” Today when I was scrolling through the pictures, I realized we haven’t said that in a long time. And that, that made me sad.

I haven’t written a post in a week and that’s because I’ve honestly been busy! My amazing mother has taken time off of work to be with me during the days. She did it for two reasons, one being that I’m connected to a feeding tube for 14 hours at night and I need help getting disconnected in the morning. Second and honestly more important is to just be with me during the day so that I don’t have to be by myself all day, everyday. I was trying to make it work but spending all day by yourself is draining and depressing so having her here has made a huge difference. We’ve gone apple picking, painted our nails, visited with my niece, done some shopping, baked breads, gone for long walks and this morning we even went to a fashion show at Saks Fifth Avenue (boy were we rubbing elbows with the other half!). I’m so lucky that she’s able to do this for me.
Keeping busy when I can and having my mom with me has made my days so much better. They go by faster and I’m happier getting to interact with people and getting to spend so much quality time with my mom. But our “glorious life” still feels like it’s on pause right now which is hard. There’s an empty, bland sort of feeling you get inside when you don’t feel like you’re living your life to the fullest of potential. In reality, I know that I’m not “not living life to the fullest of potential” (because God knows i’m trying) but sometimes it feels like that when I’m stuck at home or sitting in the waiting room of the hospital (which is 75% of the visits). There’s just so much time waiting, sitting, resting, that my mind begins to wander off to what my life was or used to be. But as my mom reminded me today, I’ll get it back. It’ll never be the same but maybe it’ll be better. I’m going to keep on fighting, with the help of my family and friends, until saying “glorious life” is back into my repertoire of weekly phrases.
XOXO,
Jessy
here’s my crazy but incredible mother. aka Mom-cologist!
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Can’t Sleep

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I do some of my best writing at 4:30 in the morning…on steriods. And that’s what’s going on right now. It’s exactly 4:37am and my mind is racing and I can’t sleep. So instead of laying here in bed with my eyes open, I thought I’d write down how I’m feeling and what’s new.

It’s been a little while since I’ve written a post, the frequency of the posts have slowed down in the past month and I know it. It’s not because I’m getting bored with my blog or anything of that sort but rather because I’m bored with my life right now. The past 3 weeks have consisted of not eating or making bland, “soft” meals, throwing up, napping, being curled up in pain, going to the doctors, watching tv, sleeping. Repeat. I’ve felt anything but inspirational. I’ve felt bad for myself quite honestly and that’s really it. I felt bad for myself that Mike and I had to cancel a trip to Newport this weekend that we had looked forward to nearly all summer due to my condition. I felt down for myself that I’ve felt so sad lately, it doesn’t feel like me. But as I sit here in bed in the wee morning of hours, I am thinking about everything good that has still happened over the past three weeks.
– I got to see two of my best friends, one from high school and one from college, that live in California and Florida and I very rarely get to see. It’s always rejuvenating to visit with friends, especially those you haven’t seen in quite some time.
– I got to spend time with my family and Mikes family. Both by the pool. Both with our little nuggets. And I’ve said if before but I’ll say it again, there’s no better cure than hanging out with children you love. They put a smile on your face no matter how crummy you may feel.
– I got to slow dance with Mike to Frank Sinatra.
– I got to dance crazily to “Shake It Out” by my girl T Swift with Mike (yes, there’s a lot of dancing in this house). Works for a good belly laugh every time.
– I have been reminded how strong I really am. I have learned how much my body can be put through and how I will bounce back and come out on top, even if it takes a while.
– I got to start back up on the chemo cocktail yesterday. Now this may not be traditional “fun” but being paused is a stressful feeling as you know it’s just pushing back the end goal. So I was thrilled to continue back on the march.
– I’ve learned that the guy sleeping quietly next to me (thank god, it’s a snore a lot of the time!) is the best thing that ever happened to me. That even at my lowest and grumpiest, he loves me unconditionally.

So for a crappy few weeks, there’s still a lot of good that has come out of it. And that’s important to remember, even at my lowest lows. Sometimes, I just have to write it out. I hope you all are having a wonderful and blessed week!

XOXOX,
Jessy

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Storms Don’t Last Forever

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Storms don’t last forever. It’s a mantra I’ve found myself needing to think a lot lately. 
 
It’s been over 5 months since I was diagnosed but it feels like a century. When the 20th of the month hit, it felt hard to believe that I’m not even to the halfway point. Scratch that, in the grand scheme of things, I’m not even to the quarter mark. Spring 2016 feels like an eternity away. And in the middle of Summer 2014, the thought of that date gets me down. Taking it day by day is most definitely the best way to complete this challenge. But I’m not a day-by-day type of person. I love looking to the future. I’ve always been like that… looking forward to what’s next, striving for a bigger and better goal. But in this case, when the goal is so far away and there’s a lot of “mehhh” in the middle, looking to the future feels more like a daunting task rather than an exciting endeavor. 
 
I wrote this yesterday in the middle of the afternoon, sitting on my couch, basically just feeling sorry for myself. 
“I just want my life back. I want it back so so so bad. I want to go to work. I don’t want everyone to have to take care of me and do favors for me. I want to have a drink. Go for a run. Do laps in the pool at my sports club. Eat raw sushi. I want to go on the vacation Mike and I had planned to the Dominican. I want to not feel worried all the time or have so much anxiety. I want to get a paycheck. I want my boyfriend to not have to give me shots in my stomach every night. I want to get a manicure and pedicure. I want to not think about cancer every second of every day.” 
 
Those negative emotions are all I could think yesterday. All I could feel is how much I want my life back. However, reading it back, I feel guilty. I beat myself up when I have pitty parties for myself because it makes me feel so ungrateful and unappreciative of what I’ve been given. I’ve been given the gift of being able to fight and overcome this terrible disease. Not everyone is as lucky— that’s a thought that goes through my mind multiple times a day. I am lucky and I know it. But the truth is, I sit here today and I still ache for my old life. I still want more than anything to wake up from this bad dream and be a healthy, normal 25 year old. I try so hard to be strong but sometimes it’s just too overwhelming, too draining, too frustrating. But today’s different than yesterday. How much different? Not much. But I’m one day closer and two shades happier. Tomorrow I’ll be at the hospital all day and will be getting another bone marrow biopsy done to triple check that there are no leukemia cells in my body. So tomorrow’s a big day. It won’t be a fun day, so today had to be. Today I cooked and went to the super market and received a pair of fabulously comfy slippers from a coworker and am about to go to an outdoor yoga class which will be the first time I’ve done group exercise in over 5 months. It’s a better day than yesterday and Thursday will be a better day than tomorrow. 
 
Storms are scary. There are large cracks of thunder, lightening that illuminates the sky and sets fire to things here on earth, heavy rains that come in sideways and make you cold and wet. Often times in a storm, you even lose power. Sometimes, the lights just flicker and other times you can lose it for hours and even days. But the light always comes back on. The thunder and lightening and rain, they always stop. The clouds always break and that big beautiful sun always comes shining through. 
 
XOXO,
Jessy

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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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

Until Next Week

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LK;ADKFJAD;LAJD;LKJA;LKJDF;LKJ AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!  

 
That, my friends, is how I’m feeling right about now. Today went NOTHING like how I thought it was going to be. I had planned to write a post tonight from my hospital room, instead here I am sitting at my kitchen table again. I’m home with a packed suitcase and another hospital stay pushed off. Good news, I didn’t get the bone marrow biopsy. Oh wait, that’s just because I’m getting it next week instead. Today I got a better understanding of what my doctor didn’t “like” last week. Basically, when my blood’s been drawn the past two weeks, things called “blasts” have appeared which indicate that the leukemia could somehow have come back (could, keyword there). Luckily, although still there, that number has decreased since last week and all my other counts were in the normal range. So both my doctors are leaning towards that these “blasts” are just immature cells that my bone marrow has produced while it’s been replenishing itself. However, the possibility of the leukemia coming back is real and therefore, until we know exactly what’s going on, we can’t move forward with my planned treatment. 
 
As my doctors were explaining everything, I started getting emotional… I was instantly overwhelmed, I felt like a ton of bricks had just fallen on my shoulders. Consoling me, Dr. Mandy talked to me about how healthy it is to get “out” my feelings and said something that really hit home. She said, “You’re dealing with death, 50 years earlier than you should. You have the right to feel the way you’re feeling.” I hadn’t thought of it like that until this moment. I had been coping by categorizing this in my head as a “sickness,” a sickness that is awful and unfair but something I would get through and undoubtedly live to tell my kids about. I’ve done a good job telling myself that the ‘d’ word is not an option. And I really still don’t see it as one. (I have way too much to do in my life to let it be an option.) But the fact that it’s ever even mentioned or considered is terrifying. The reality is, this most likely is all just a big scare; the hope is that I’ll go in next week, get this bone marrow biopsy done and find out a few days later that everything is fine and continue on with the action course we’ve had planned all along. But the possibility, as small as it may be, that the results could come back next week and things could get “more serious” than they already are leaves me a little speechless. I am, however, reassured that if the results don’t come back the way we want them to, there are still different treatment options we can try, all of which are of the goal to cure.
 
Other than those first few days, emotionally this was definitely one of the hardest/scariest days. But, just as they were there to comfort me in those first few hours and days, my doctors were there to comfort me and be honest with me…to let me know exactly what’s going on and in terms a marketing major can understand. They make such an incredible team and are so unbelievably knowledgable about this disease. I trust their decisions, whole heartedly and completely. That’s a priceless feeling. Beyond all their brilliance, however, they are caring, kind, compassionate people, and those qualities have continued to make all the difference for me. When I look in their eyes I can see how much they want this too, how much they truly care about me, almost as if I’m a loved one of theirs. I’m not though, I’ve only known them for 3 months. But they care about me a lot and they take care of me to a level that I can’t describe. I am and will forever be grateful to Dr. D and Dr. Mandy– best doctors a person could ask for.  
 
So my update today wasn’t the brightest of ones. Today was a tough day. This week will be a tough week… my mind is inevitably going to wander and I’m going to have to try really REALLY hard to stay focused and positive. I never thought I’d say the words “I’m excited to get a bone marrow biopsy” but I’m excited to get a bone marrow biopsy. I want next week to come because I want to know what we have to face. Once we know what we’re facing, we can map out our plan of attack and get back to kicking some cancer ass.
 
But before I get back to kicking some ass, I’ll take a few extra prayers this week if you’ve got ’em. 🙂 
 
XOXO,
Jessy 
 
p.s.  a shoutout to my shitty friend leukemia— go eff yourself. 
p.s.s. another special shoutout to my lovely grandparents and great aunts and uncles– apologies for my cursing. 

Cinco de No Drinko

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This blog post I’m going to come off as a real lush. I’m pissed about not being able to drink; plain and simple. So if you think that’s wrong, click the X button now.
 
Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo and I wanted a Caronarita. Bad. Unfortunately for me, it will be 2016 until the next time I’ll get to suck down one of these festive yet aggressive drinks. This holiday comes on the heels of a weekend that I got really bothered about not being able to have an alcoholic beverage. Mike and I went to a wedding in NH. I was so excited for it…. so excited to be out of the house (and not at the hospital). So excited to use the jacuzzi so that I could put some use to the bathing suits originally purchased for our Domincan trip. It was so fun to get dressed up and see a bunch of friends. The ceremony was beautiful, bride looked so angelic and the groom was grinning from ear to ear- it was a magical moment to watch. Then the cocktail hour started and the drinks began to flow. Okay, I thought, no big deal. Then we sat down for dinner and there’ a glass of champagne in front of each plate. Ugh, maybe I can have just one sip? I’m a few days off chemo and have a few days before the next round. One sip it is. Woopsies, that made it way harder. I wanted the whole glass. But one sip is all I knew I could “sneak.” And then the drinks continued to come flowing all around me. Everyone was indulging, as they should be at a wedding, and I slowly became saddened by the situation. I enjoyed dancing with my boyfriend who goes borderline insane but phenomenally impressive on wedding dance floors. (It’s almost like I’m dating Vince Vaughn from Wedding Crashers.) I was honestly having fun and enjoying this special night but as everyone else around was getting tipsy, it ate away at me that I “couldn’t,” that I’m not “allowed.” I decided not to go to the after party and just head back to our hotel room after the wedding ended. I laid in the bed wanting to go downstairs to the bar but couldn’t push myself to do it. So instead, I laid in bed and thought a lot about why the absence of alcohol in my life is bothering me so much. Coming up with an answer didn’t make me necessarily feel any better but I started realizing that I think it relates to the importance of being part of the group. I’m bothered about not being able to drink because it makes me feel isolated, it’s a reminder that I’m not a normal 25 year old right now, it’s a reminder that I’m sick, it’s a reminder that I can’t just do whatever I damn well please. And you know what? I like to do what I want to do, that’s for absolute sure. 
 
Honestly, I have felt embarrassed or ashamed about really communicating how sad or left out I feel about not being able to have a drink. It’s easy for me to say “oh well, shouldn’t be my biggest priority right now” or “things could be worse.” And those both are true, but the reality is it’s harder than that. The reality of actually hanging out when everyone else is drinking is not the easiest, or the funnest and it’s going to be like this for two years. That’s a long time to feel like the odd man out. At this point in my life, having some drinks with friends is a huge part of social life. Whether it’s Harpoon Fest, having Sunday Funday bloodies, beers at the Sox game, tailgating before a summer concert, or having a Caronarita for Cinco de Mayo, lots and lots of the events that go on outside of work consist of drinking. And I’m not looking forward to not taking part in these things for the foreseeable future. 
 
Tomorrow morning I head to Dana Farber and will be admitted at Brigham & Womens later in the day for my next round of chemo and will stay for five days. Definitely not looking forward to being in the hospital for five nights but hey, I’m guaranteed that there’ll be no temptations. I mean, unless my nurses decide to celebrate National Nurses Week with some cocktails. 
 
Okay… end rant. 
 
Olé!
Jessy
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