I'm ready to be a "mento"

Anyone remember the episode of Friends when Joey said he wanted to be a "mento" instead of mentor? A lot funnier when he did it. I miss that show, it was hilarious.

Last night I attended my Team in Training mentor training. It was long, but it was cool, particularly when we got to break out and meet the other mentors and coaches from our particular training sites. Everyone was really cool, and I think it's going to be a great season. I'm excited to get to know some new TNT folks. They are always good people :).

As a mentor, I'm going to be assigned a group of runners, and it's my job to check in with them weekly, help them to develop a fundraising strategy, motivate, encourage, and help them to stick with the program. I think the most daunting part for people is the fundraising aspect. If you stick with the training, you will likely be able to do the running part, but it's really tough asking people for money right now. The mentors are going to come up with some fundraisers to help our participants..... I'm really excited. This cause means so much to me (a huge DUH to anyone who reads this regularly! ;)), and I want to make sure we get as many people sticking with the program as possible.

I learned some disturbing things last night about the state of their funding right now. Like every organization out there, the economy has hurt them. They've experienced layoffs, and they have had to cut back funding for both research and patient services. One of the neat things about LLS is they have provided a $500 a year stipend to folks for travel expenses. This can be used to pay the exorbitant hospital parking fees, gas, airfare (because SO many people come from out of town to MD Anderson), hotel.... whatever they want to use it for. Well, they have recently had to reduce that number to $150, which is huge. Consider the fact that a lot of cancer patients have to quit their jobs, so their families already feel the financial crunch. It's so scary. And not being able to fund research? That terrifies me. It stalls our progress toward finding a cure for blood cancers, and it means we are going to lose more people to this disease.

On that note, I'm going to be officially registering this weekend to be a participant in the Houston Half-Marathon in January. That's right, I'm not only going to be a mentor, I'm also going to be a runner and fundraiser for this event. After swearing I would never run again after last season, I realized my work IS NOT DONE. This year my fundraising minimum is $2,400. I hope to raise at least $5,000. I hope that anyone out there reading this blog will help to support me on this mission. I can assure you that you'll be hearing plenty from me over the next 6 months.

Go Team!

Fast Forward to the Present

Alright, I'm back to discussing the details of my fabulously CURRENT life. Fabulous? Probably an overstatement. But, it's coming along.

Remind me to only get married once. And if I happen to ever get married twice, remind me to elope the second time :). My latest headache it the guest list issue. Who is on it, who is not on it, who is going to get hurt feelings, how do we keep it smaller, and when are necessary parties going to send me their lists?????? Very frustrating. That's why I never liked group projects, I don't like having to depend on other people to get things done.

Even though we are 10 months out, the guest list is vital in determining lots of costs/quantities of things. I asked to have them all in by the end of May. It's mid-June, and I still have outstanding lists. POO.

I'm trying not to stress too hard about it. I had a major work event this past weekend that definitely kept me occupied for the past couple of weeks. Luckily, I think it went off splendidly. I'm very proud right now. I like it when I feel like I'm good at what I do.

I've started running again. It's tough after not running for a few months, but I'm better than when I started training last time? It's also hard because it's already hotter than hell in Houston. Seriously, it's awful to even step foot outside. I leave the running for the evenings, but even then, it's still rough.

I'm sooooo, soooo tired today. I feel like I could have used another 15 hours of sleep. I had an awful time sleeping last week. There were three nights when I simply couldn't fall asleep, and it was miserable. It's still plaguing me now, and I've been trying to get full nights of sleep the past couple of days, but I think what I really need is a vacation. Whether it's a "staycation" (I keep hearing this word!) or a vacation that actually involves travelling somewhere, I just need some time to let my brain de-stress. I was in Vegas a couple of weeks ago for E's bachelorette party, but while that was fun, it definitely wasn't relaxing or restful.

So, I'm going to slowly get this week started, and send another gentle reminder email about guest lists.

# 5 The End

On October 4, 2007, I had my last chemo session. I had made it through six months and 12 sessions of nausea, vomiting in a trash can while hooked up to the IV, several emergency room visits as a result of spiking a fever post-chemo, a bout with bronchitis as a result of lowered immunity, countless neupogen shots to boost white blood cell production, a full head of lost hair, intense bone pain, twice daily heparin injections, eleventy billion site dressing changes, the loss of layers of skin due to transpore tape and press and seal wrap, one bone marrow biopsy that I hope to never repeat, multi-weekly blood draws, tons of tests...... but I was DONE!!!!! Chemo killed my cancer, and I was DONE with chemo. I was thrilled... or was I?

To be honest, finishing chemo was terrifying for me. Despite all the negative effects, I had the comfort of knowing that my chemo was killing my cancer. What would happen when I wasn't being pumped full of cancer-killing chemicals? Would my cancer come back? Was it just waiting for a break in the drugs to come and get me?

The other part of it that made finishing chemo tough was that for the last six months of my life, my cancer had defined me. Before I was diagnosed, I was a law student. Well, while sick, I graduated from law school, I wasn't working, I didn't have much on my plate besides being sick. My job title and identity was cancer patient, and when I didn't have that anymore.... I felt lost. All of my friends had moved on, gotten jobs, and were living their lives. I wasn't doing much of anything. Now, this isn't to say I WANTED to be defined by cancer. I did NOT miss my cancer. It was just a shock to my system, and I had to ask myself "What's next?"

Slowly but surely, I moved past my post-cancer rut. I began studying for the bar exam, and took it the following February. In January, I went in to the hospital for my first series of post-chemo tests/scans. It was awful. I was a nervous wreck. I was so convinced that I was sick again. It made me the most insufferable person to be around for a couple of weeks. Happily, those test results came back negative. I was still cancer-free, and I could still move on with my life. Even now, over a year and a half after that last chemo session, I still get nervous when test time comes around, but it doesn't consume me like it used to. I've been cancer-free for a while now, and I have more confidence, and I generally feel really good.

As for how I moved on, well, most of y'all know that story. Upon finishing the bar exam, I was overwhelmed by a sense of depression at the idea of actually having to practice law. D suggested that I DIDN'T have to practice law, which allowed me to expand my search. My journey made me want to help others on their own journey, which led me to the non-profit sector. It's been an interesting transition, one I never regret, and I think I've discovered new talents.

So, I sit here today, writing this last cancer reflection, full head of hair intact, excited about how far I've come and fully dedicated to doing more in the future. My journey is why I've become so involved with Team in Training. I don't want ANYONE to endure what I went through. It's a paralyzing feeling to be sick and not to be able to do anything about it. Your life is in the hands of doctors, medicine, and God. The loss of control is horrible. I'm going to begin training for my second Team in Training season in less than two months, and I hope you all will support me as I start this journey all over again!

Thanks for giving me the chance to write about this period of my life!

#4 Remission doesn't mean the same thing to everyone...

My remission story is somewhat amusing.

The happy news in my story is that the chemo did it's job. It came, it saw, and it conquered the shit out of my cancer. It made me feel like hell, but it got the stuff that was trying to kill me. By July (after starting treatment in April), the chemo had killed the cancer, and I was in remission.

My oncologist looks like your typical absent minded professor. He's clearly a smart guy, he's really nice, mildly awkward, and sometimes difficult to decipher. Everytime I went in for my visits with him, I would first see the nurse, who basically took inventory of how I was feeling and wrote it in my chart. Then, after the nurse, I would visit with my physician's assistant. He was great, he would fill me in on my test results in lay person language before I saw Dr. M. Dr. M came in last, and he gave the reassurance of a medical professional that I was progressing nicely.

Well, in July, my PA was out for the day, so I skipped straight from nurse to Dr. M. My older sister accompanied me to that appointment (D was taking the bar exam), and we sat and listened to Dr. M talking about meta-something. We both kind of nodded and smiled. I got that the results were good, but my understanding was apparently minimal. We left, excited that the chemo was fighting the cancer, but still aware that I had cancer.

Well, fast forward to August. The day after I shaved my head, I went to my doctor's appointment before heading to the airport to pick D up. I saw the nurse, and then I saw my PA. He looked through my charts and started talking, and finally said " Well, since you are in remission...." I don't know how he finished that statement, because I stopped listening. Remission? I was in remission? He looked confused when I started questioning him. Hadn't Dr. M told me this at my July appointment?

Had he? I didn't have a clue. My PA exited the room, and I immediately called my sister to inform her that Dr. M's medical speak last month had apparently meant remission. She was as surprised as I was, she hadn't had a clue that he'd said that either! Dr. M came in, apologetically, saying he didn't realize that he'd neglected to actually use the word remission, but that I was, in fact, in remission. I couldn't even be mad at the guy because I was so overwhelmed, excited, emotional, and freaking ecstatic that I was in remission. The chemo had killed the cancer. I was cancer-free. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

I left the appointment to pick D up from the airport, and I was practically bouncing out of my skin. The first thing I saw when I spotted him by the curb was his shaved head, shaved in honor of my own head shaving. I jumped out of the car, bounded into his arms, and excitedly whispered through tears that I had gone into remission. It was an excellent moment for the two of us.

That night was another celebration (because that's our style) of the fact that I was in remission. Despite the cancer being gone, I would still have to undergo another three months of chemo. During this time I would feel sicker than I ever did when the cancer was in full force, but knowing that I had beaten this disease helped tremendously in getting through it.

I'm off to Vegas tomorrow for E's bachelorette party..... see you next week!