when you call my name, it's like a little prayer

Marie Curie once said, Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood. I'd like to think that way, especially in oncology. But it's hard, I'm not going to lie. I have to reach down and really pull sometimes to find hope. Some days are much more difficult than others. Some days I have to pretend, until hope really does finally break through. But I wouldn't be going into the field of oncology if I didn't intrinsically have hope; this I know. 

But what happens when someone might have metastases, years and years after they've been cancer-free? How does one rationalize such an irrational event? How do you start to make sense of it? It's not fair; but then again, cancer doesn't play fair. Cancer cells don't get the message that they're supposed to die (apoptosis), they just keep replicating and invading other organs in its host. They don't really care that they're crashing a party that they'd never be invited to in the first place. And then sometimes, they'll go into hiding, and the patients' treatment team congratulates themselves for their hard work and brilliance...and then months, years, decades later, they surprise us. To paraphrase, metastasis happens. Granted, metastatic disease is not the immediate death sentence it used to be, for the most part. Yes, we can't "cure" the patient, but we can "treat" them and "keep the cancer under control" and preserve quality of life for the patient. And of course, it depends on the kind of cancer, too. 

Anyway, hearing that the lump she has might be a cyst or a metastasis....floored me. Working in oncology doesn't soften the blow any. If anything, it kind of makes news like this worse because we know what we might be up against. I am hoping it turns out to be just a cyst. Hope. Have to hold onto that. Sometimes, though, I just feel like screaming, Seriously, G-d? Can't you give me a break? Don't you think you OWE me one? But that's a whole other theological discussion. 

Studies in JAMA show that people, somehow, heal faster and more complete when they're prayed for. It doesn't even matter if the people who are praying know the people they're praying for. Somehow, prayer works sometimes. So if you have a minute, pray for the people you know and care about. You never know. 

Look to the living, love them, and hold on. - Douglas Dunn

back in the game

How can I possibly be sad when I see this face?? Slowly, very slowly, I am getting up and on with life. Am I sad? Of course. But you know what? All my life, I have not been the type of person to let others assign a value to me and I'm not going to start now. I'm going to channel my energy into writing the best damn thesis ever and prove that I would have been a kick-ass doctoral student. And I will have a thesis I am proud of, that I poured my heart and soul into. And it will be that much more gratifying, because I will know that it didn't come easily. 

I had an appt with my pcp here at Student Health today, and she knew about the whole PhD decision, etc etc. She knows me pretty well, and is very observant and intuitive. But she said something that pretty much gave me a kick in the butt and made me open my eyes. She said that things happen for a reason, and our experiences help make us who we are. And she's right, I know she is. People have said this to me before, but for some reason, today it sunk in. Maybe the world needs me out in the field right now, and I'm not supposed to be stuck in a classroom. Maybe this is teaching me persistance. Endurance. Tenacity. Maybe it is teaching me how to appreciate it more. But it really made me think hard about myself. All my life up to this point, I have not been the type of person to be easily defeated - I fight back. I speak up, I get loud. I do not go gently into that great night, so to speak. So why am I starting now? Why am I getting so defeated now? No way - I will get up, dust myself off, tend to my wounds, and get right back in there. 

As soon as I finish this latte. 

out of ashes, still I rise.....but not today.

Phoenix Rising

I am still on the metaphorical floor, trying to catch my breath from the past week. I can't believe it's been a week. The past 3 Fridays have brought rejections; I wonder what this one will bring. My rough draft of my thesis is due.....and I'm not quite there yet. Not by a long shot. So it will be a late night. It's just been a little distracting, you know, having my life plans crushed. Not that I'm bitter. 

The other day I was woken up by a phone call and my baby nephew on the phone. And he can say "Jay-jay!" Not quite "Auntie Jaime", but it's a start. And yes, it occurred to me that that's really what matters in this world, but it didn't quite take all the sting away. 

Right now, this weekend, I will allow myself to focus on little things, "trivial" things. I will get my work done and out of the way early, and I will let myself do NOTHING if I feel like it. I will lounge in sweats and read magazines. I will not tell myself I am a loser and a failure. I will remind myself that I am loved by many people in many different ways, and that I'm never really alone. I will allow myself to obsess over the new issues of Vogue and Elle. 

Now for the really important question - is it ever appropriate to wear hot pink Juicy velour sweatpants to class? And what does one wear with them? 

Anyway....I've tried to paste this YouTube video in, and I'm tired and it's not working, but click this link to hear the song I've been loving lately. It's set to the Twilight movie, but it's a song by Barlow Girl, "Never Alone". 

even Supergirl can't fly all the time.

All my life, it feels like Great Things have been expected. To whom much is given, much is expected, isn't that how the quote goes? And for the most part, I think I've delivered. Reading at 2, kindergarten at 4, graduating college by 21, and entering a clinical psychology doctoral program, ensuring that I would be a doctor by the age of 26. And then it went horribly wrong. I left clinical psychology, tried social work, returned to psychology, got an MS, and am getting my MPH in 2 months -- in a field I am finally passionate about. I've interned at HUP, worked with the LAF, interned at Memorial, lived in Manhattan for over a year -- but it all seems like nothing to me right now. It looks great on paper, doesn't it? I feel like I've worked my butt off since I was 4 years old, trying to Do Something Wonderful. When I fell into oncology 5 years ago, it seemed like it all fell into place. When I decided to either do public health or medicine, I thought to myself, I can't make a wrong decision, I love them both. And I do - I love what I do, and I'd still love to be a pediatric oncologist, although that's pretty improbable. 

I know my family is proud of me no matter what, and they try not to put any expectations on me. I am my own worst enemy - I am harder on myself than anyone could ever be. I hold myself up to near impossible standards, as do many of my friends -- I think that's a reason they're all so accomplished and amazing and wonderful. But sooner or later, even Supergirl falls from the sky.

I didn't get into UNC. Yeah, you read that right. I didn't get into the school I am ALREADY in. To say that I feel like I failed is the understatement of the year. I am hurt, angry, mortified, sad, humiliated - devastated would be an appropriate word, I guess. I had planned to possibly buy the condo I am living in, stay in my neighborhood.....and now, all of that is up in the air. I haven't heard from Columbia yet, but I am not holding my breath. Apparently, there were record numbers of applicants. I am meeting with the Chair of the department next week to discuss it. All of this does not make me feel better. So I am trying to look for jobs at UNC, Duke, NC State, RTP.....but it doesn't take the sting of failure away. It doesn't take away any of the disappointment I feel. For quite possibly the first time in my life, living in NY might not make me happy. I want to stay here, in Chapel Hill. If, by some miracle, I did get into Columbia, I guess it was meant to be. But I am still waiting. I never saw the MPH as my end goal -- it was supposed to be a stepping stone to the PhD. Right now, there is no joy in this degree. I know how that sounds, and I'm sorry. But right now, it's how I feel.

No one can say anything that will make me feel better right now. I have to figure this out on my own. This has completely floored me. But sooner or later, I know I'll get up off the floor. But not today.

"...Then, when it seems like we will never smile again, life comes back." - Source Unknown

one year later.

I turned in the first couple pages of my thesis last night, and I have LOTS of work to do. It's so completely overwhelming. My topic has evolved once more, and now it is: Second Malignancies in Survivors of Childhood Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, Hodgkin Lymphoma, and non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. wooo!! fun. 

I got rejected from the PhD program that I applied to at Hopkins. I was pretty bummed. Honestly, I cried like a baby when I got the rejection letter. I'm hoping I get better news soon. Very soon. 

On a more serious note, tomorrow, March 5, marks the one year anniversary of Eve Carson's murder. I don't know why she has struck a chord with me for some reason. Maybe because it's Chapel Hill, where nothing ever happens, and it could have been anyone. Maybe because her vibrant, full life is in sharp contrast with her violent, lonely death. But this time last year, she was probably doing homework, emailing friends, talking on the phone - not knowing that in a few hours, she'd be taken from her house, held at gunpoint, and according to new documents, be tortured and physically abused, and finally, killed in the middle of an intersection. She had no idea that her spring break plans would never happen, or that she wouldn't be in class on March 5. I guess the psychologist in me wonders about her roommates, how they are holding up, and the daughter, the human in me wonders about her parents and brother. I often think about them, and what their life has been like since receiving that phone call. I think of what must have been going through her mind when she was taken - if she knew in her heart that she wouldn't make it back home, or if she truly believed they would let her go. I think of how scared she must have been, but also how brave she was to run. It is all truly beyond the scope of my brain. It doesn't seem real, still, in some weird way. The violence contrasts so much with my view of Chapel Hill, with the life I have created here. The fact that we got an email on March 5, notifying us about an unidentified female's body that was found -- as one of my friends said over lunch that day, "This is like, if your roommate didn't come home last night, you'd better call us....." But none of us really thought it was a UNC student....things like that don't happen here....yeah. 

But on March 5, I think Eve should be remembered for a life richly lived. I read about her and I am in awe of how much living, how much life she lived in her 22 years. She was truly present in her life, and incredibly giving and accomplished. I think it would do us all good to remember that lesson - that life is meant to be lived, because no one ever promised us tomorrow. 

This is one of the last, if not last, pictures of Eve, taken 2 days before her murder. 

I wish her family and friends strength and love and resilience, and I hope they find some solace in knowing that while she was alive, she truly did live. 

"Study hard and work hard. Play hard. Keep an open mind. Take pride in yourself, in your school, in what you produce and the way you help others. If you make mistakes, make sure you learn from them, and never give up -- stay strong to the finish." -- Eve Marie Carson

writer's block

So.....instead of writing the part of my thesis that is due, oh, tomorrow, I am blogging. Yup. Blogging. I am blocked with my thesis. I think because I psych myself out with it. I just need to start treating it like a regular paper and not put so much emphasis on it. As one of my commenters mentioned, I think I'm getting too caught up in the rye. (Catcher in the Rye reference). He (the commenter) wrote, ...just don't let too many of the questions and answers weigh down the beauty in you. Maybe let go of your present. Remember what you loved that got you to the point you have the opportunity to write this paper. Maybe find the innocent beauty in why you went to where you are....And you know what? Maybe I need to let go right now, and just WRITE. Maybe I need to remember what it is I love about pediatric oncology that made me want to go into the field, and write my thesis on it anyway. And why I went to where I am? Well, that's easy....16 years ago Erik died of ALL. I went to a small private school, and most of us started in kindergarten or first grade there, so by the time we reached middle school, everyone knew everyone. I don't even remember when Erik was first diagnosed, but I remember when things started to get bad, and they needed platelets. My mother donated. And then I remember being told that he had passed away - it was on a Sunday, because I was cheering at a basketball game....and us cheerleaders were told not to tell the boys, because they need to be able to play the game - but all of us knew about Erik before the game started. I remember going over to my mother and saying, "Erik died anyway, the platelets didn't save him...." Of course, this was before I knew what platelets did....but I remember that helpless feeling -- the feeling that this wasn't supposed to happen. He was 13, after all. And you know what? That was the catalyst that got me involved in oncology. That naive, childish, hopeful idea that I could go into oncology and make a difference - the difference that Erik never got. The simplistic beauty of that idea is what I need to get back. I need to hold onto that to write this thesis, I think.