second semester art school rambling

I am listening to a Spotify mix called "sunshine", which includes "Walking on Sunshine," "Brown Eyed Girl," "Bette Davis Eyes," "Heaven is a Place on Earth," "I Can See Clearly Now," and "Build Me Up Buttercup." I need this today. It's just been a shitty, shitty week. Second year is kicking everyone's ass, and yesterday one of my guy friends who's really funny - after our reading at an art gallery last semester we wound up at a pizza place at like one in the morning - he was like, "You look really, really tired today. Like especially. I'm worried." And I started crying (damn Topamax, plus the neurologist's appt), and he was like, "Want some candy?" And that solved it.

So yeah, I saw the movement disorder doctor yesterday. It was a weird visit. I went with the intention of going off all medication. The other day I was talking about it with my therapist, and I showed her my hands, and she was honest, and said she didn't see a difference. I'm glad she was honest, I don't want to be lied to. I thought there was, but that's probably just hopeful thinking. My legs shake terribly though, now, I've noticed. In the bookstore today, they were horrible. I felt like everyone could see them. Nothing helps those tremors. Anyway, she did the standard exam, she wants me to see a GI dr since I seem to have a problem with B12, so she wants to rule out celiac (although I was tested a few years ago) or Crohns. Then - THEN - she turns and looks at me and says, you know, nitrous oxide can cause low B12. I'm like, okay....She says, "Nitrous oxide is like the stuff the dentist gives you, it's in aerosol cans, stuff like that." And it slowly hit me that she was ASKING ME IF I WAS HUFFING. I was stunned. Because the Topamax makes me cry at anything, I started tearing up and said, "Are you asking me if I huff? I don't even know HOW that works. I'm 32. I'm in grad school. I don't use drugs. If I huffed I wouldn't be here trying to stop this." She said she had to ask, and on some level, I know, but still. Jesus. Fucking huffing. Seriously, I don't even know how that works. Then she says, "You might want to see a psychiatrist," because I was still crying. I looked at her, and said, "I see a therapist, but I think my reactions are normal for a 32 year old who's been diagnosed with a progressive neurological disorder. I don't think they're pathological or problematic."
She referred to the tremor as benign essential tremor and I actually interrupted her (I was in no mood yesterday) and said it's not benign for the person who has it, not at all. It was a really odd visit. I think they don't know what to do with me. I asked about deep brain stimulation (DBS), and she laughed. She gave me the name of the NYU surgeons, but I want to check out Hopkins, who like, pioneered it. It has an 80-90% success rate. They put electrodes into your brain and a pacemaker-like thing near your collarbone that sends messages to the electrodes that help stop the tremors.

You KNOW that when someone is practically begging for brain surgery, they're hanging on by only a few threads.

Right now, those threads are my family, especially my wondrous nephew and my niece who will join us in July. Those threads are friends who text me at just the right times. Those threads are books. Those threads are songs like those on the playlist "sunshine."

Nine years ago, a former therapist/now a mentor was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was devastated and felt incredibly helpless. But I didn't get that feeling from her. She said something to me that I repeated to myself during her treatment (and she is now in remission, thank G-d). She said, "I can't control what happens to me. But I can control how I react to it." Amen.

So. This situation sucks. I've cried almost every day about it. I'm frustrated over simple things and feel like a freak sometimes if I'm handing money over to a clerk and it's shaking like I have Parkinson's. But I had bracelets made. I'm selling them. I'm raising money for research. I'm taking control of my own treatment plan. But it's hard, I'm not going to lie. It's frustrating. Dr.Jimmie Holland, a psycho-onocologist from Sloan-Kettering (and my idol) talked about the "tyranny of positive thinking," - that if you had any negative thoughts, you were a "bad" patient. I think it's all part of the process. Like the cycle Kubler-Ross developed. Because a part of you, a part of your life has died. So I am controlling how I react to the things in my life.

Anyway, it's the final stretch and I can't believe it's over. I did it. Well, not yet. Thesis looms, and I have 3 years to do it. I hope i get the teaching fellowship. Then I can get my MFA - Mother Fucking Artist. No, it's really Master of Fine Arts. But I like mine better. I never thought I would call myself an artist. Or see myself as an artist.

And you know what? For all the debt I have - and it's six figures worth of debt, just like everyone else in my cohort - I don't regret it. I got to talk to Mary Karr last night. I talked with Oliver Sacks. Margo Jefferson was my workshop instructor. I went to a lecture by Zadie Smith. Deborah Eisenberg and Richard Ford are common sightings in the office. And they're friendly, normal people.
On my deathbed, I won't regret a thing. So for the anonymous person who writes mean-spirited comments which is why I had to moderate them, I am living my life to the fullest. Trying not to have regrets. Checking off my bucket list. All the things I've tried and failed and loved and hated have brought me to where I am now and made me who I am. And I'm happy with that. Can you say the same?

lifecycles.

All that stands between me and winter break are two books, a paper, and workshop critiques. And 3 classes. I need this break. I need to read for pleasure, need to read brain candy YA books or sports books or US Weekly. I don't want to see a New Yorker or a Believer once over break. I'll make an exception for lit journals like Ecotone and Ploughshares. My brain is just wiped out. This week in particular has kind of kicked my ass. I just went through a whole bunch of bureaucratic/administrative red tape that did not end in my favor. So I can't do my Independent Study, which is like, the ONE thing I was really excited about for next semester. I never really got a firm reason why, but I think it's internal stuff. It was a whole week of stressful emails and conversations that never really met on the same common ground, ending in disappointment and, I admit, a very small feeling of defeat. But I hate feeling defeated, and after an afternoon of moping, got my scrappy self together and I know that somehow, I will pursue my interests in a really in-depth way. And when I am a famous writer, on panels with Atul Gawande and Jerome Groopman, I will say, "Let me tell you about this one time I wasn't allowed to do this Independent Study...."

A girl can dream, can't she?

Then I found out I didn't get the research fellowship for which I interviewed. I was really crushed, and honestly - without sounding like a total asshole - I do have more research experience than almost everyone in the program. I've done research at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, Memorial Sloan-Kettering, the UNC Schools of Public Health and Nursing, and the Cancer Institute of NJ. I don't think that's too shabby. But, I guess it wasn't what they were looking for. Which is a shame, because I genuinely enjoy research. Which may explain why I am blogging on a Friday night.

But honestly, all of that is small in the grand scheme of things. My aunt is on hospice and if she lives through the year, I will be pleasantly surprised. She looked almost ghoulish at Thanksgiving, with her skin stretched across her face and greyish skin; not the aunt I know. Cancer is relentless, it is fucking relentless - especially ovarian cancer. I never really found cancer "scary" before, like the "civilians" who don't do cancer research (that's how I thought of it). But since I've stopped reading oncology textbooks in my spare time, I better understand those feelings. Like I mentioned in a previous post, I've been thinking a lot about death, terminal illness, and what we think of as a "good" death, and dying with dignity. I've also been thinking a lot about grief. I have been a lucky girl. Although I have had my hardships and lost people I've loved, my life has been relatively spared from serious grief. I am lucky enough to still have 3 grandparents who are feisty and alive (although one is slipping into Alzheimer's - the other two have more active social lives than me), I have two parents who are well, a brother and nephew, and a cousin/his wife/their baby. I haven't wanted for much, and for the most part, haven't really struggled in school. I know I am lucky, and I am very thankful for this. But death and dying bring grief to everyone. And I guess maybe I am highly attuned to it now because I'm writing/reading constantly and have opened myself up more. But grief has a particular quality to it. It's sort of like a shadow or a mist that lays itself on you and is absorbed, and then expands until there is no room for anything else. It is constantly tumbling, like an ocean before a storm - sometimes it is fiercely violent, other times there's just rolling waves. But always there. I felt something similar to grief but not exactly, when Lambee had breast cancer. I would sit on the bus back to my neighborhood after classes and look out the window and think, there is so much sadness in the world. Because everything became tinged with fear and a sort of grief those first few weeks.

And of course, me being me, I've turned to books. I'd probably have a binder full of research on hospice/grief if I weren't drowning in schoolwork, just like I had bags full of research/peer-reviewed journal articles when Lambee had cancer. So I've mostly been reading fiction and some nonfiction. The Book of Dahlia. She's actually a graduate of Columbia's MFA program. Blue Nights. It's Joan Didion; no explanation needed. The Cure for Grief. This was written by one of my professors (also a graduate of the program). I've read it several times before, but each time there's a different nuance; I find different things. It's funny though; not many people want to ever talk about death/dying/grief, even in the abstract. You ask people for book recommendations and they stare blankly at you, or offer up religious texts. (Which, hey, I'm not knocking "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" or "Blue Like Jazz" - I've read both. I just don't want that right now).

I'm just rambling now. Not enough sleep, too much caffeine.

Listening: The Like, "Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking?"

Reading: too much stuff.

Snacking: Twizzlers, Haribo gummy bears

remembering the wonder.

Anyone who knows me knows it's been a struggle, this move back North to NY. To everyone's surprise, including my own, I loved North Carolina. I loved it so much I stayed after grad school, and didn't want to leave. Sometimes it's hard to get perspective on the long haul, when all we see is what is right in front of us.

I was washing my hair tonight when my eye caught sight of my wrist, and it made me think. On the inside of my right wrist is the word "wonder," inked in black script. I got it months ago, because this time last year, when I was making the decision to pursue writing seriously, I kept listening to "bring on the wonder" by Susan Enan. I wanted the whole lyric, "Bring on the wonder" on my forearm, but was told it would be too big, so I opted for that one word. I chose it because the lyrics to the song reminded me that I'd pushed down wonder and joy for so long, and making the choice to be a writer opened up that exuberance once again. It gave me permission to be excited about my life again, to see and feel the possibilities that awaited me. It gave me the chance to dream. When I look at my wrist, it reminds me of those initial days of making the decision, those terrifying yet exhilarating days of thinking, what the fuck did I just do to my life and holy crap, I'm going to be a writer! Those nights where I lay in bed, unable to sleep because I wasn't doing something "practical" and wasn't sure if I'd have enough money to pay my bills. Those days that stretched into weeks of not knowing if I'd get accepted anywhere.

I looked at my wrist, the beautiful script lettering (he truly did an amazing job), and am reminded of why I pursued this. I am reminded of what drove me to tell my family I couldn't do science classes anymore and maybe I would have better luck writing. I remember how I loved writing as a child and teenager, and now I am having this amazing chance to refine my craft and learn from some of the best writers around. I am reminded to remember the wonder of last summer, of how I started seeing butterflies and dragonflies everywhere - symbols of transformation - after making my decision. Looking at my tattoo, it gives me hope. Hope that although things may seem dark now, the morning always comes. My next trip to Chapel Hill will come up sooner than I can imagine, and it will always be somewhere to which I can return. It gives me hope that I will love my classes, because I will be around authors whom I've only previously read about. Sort of like when I interned at Sloan-Kettering....everyday my mind would be blown by my coworkers whose research I'd studied for years....the fact that these people actually EXISTED and that I was TALKING with them stunned me daily.

So long story short, tonight I was reminded of why I am here in NY in the first place, and what my goal is. I worked my whole life - whether I knew it or not - to get to this point. I finally took that leap of faith and decided to take myself seriously as a writer and decided I was worth it to invest time and lots of money into this path. I cracked open and let in the wonder.

for real.

Holy shit. It's finally really starting to sink in. And anytime this happens, when I make a major decision or whatnot about Columbia, it's like my body suddenly has an attack of Crohn's disease. Not pretty. I've paid my housing deposit, applied for all the necessary loans, signed the promissary notes, sent in my class preferences and am signing up for health insurance. This is really happening.

It's mid-July. Where did the time go? Some days I am excited about New York, other days I'm sick to my stomach about it. I know it's just nerves. Once I get a routine and know what is expected of me, I will be fine. The start of any program is nerve-wracking. I can feel myself starting to pull away from Chapel Hill and the people here, and I don't want to do that. I want to be present for the entire time I'm here, to soak up every last morsel of Carolina. This will be a good exercise for staying in the moment.

Signing up for preferred classes was a trip. We had to rank our preferences for seminars, lectures and workshops.....here I am, ranking workshops with Philip Lopate and Pulitzer-prize winning Margo Jefferson...what. the. hell. I will actually have the opportunity to sit in a classroom with these people and learn from them and with them. It blows my mind. I felt this way at MSKCC, too. It's like, they actually do exist, and aren't some nebulous literary geniuses floating around out there. I have to admit, while I was ranking the classes, all I could think was, you have got to be kidding me. But in a good way. There were so many amazing classes from which to choose.

This is real. It seems like a whirlwind. But on the other hand, it's been a long time coming, in a lot of ways. So many things in my life have been leading me up to this. So many peoples' encouragement and enthusiasm about my writing that have helped nurture it. Other people taking my writing seriously, and demanding I do the same.

I'm going to really enjoy this.

30 Before 40.

So it's settled. I will be attending Columbia for their nonfiction MFA in the fall. *deep breaths*. I just mailed my deposit, and unlike when I lived in nyc before and mailed my PCOM deposit, I am not going to run back to the post office and ask them to fish the letter out of the mail bin so I could have it back. My choice was pretty much made for me, since UNC rejected me, thankyouverymuch, which I still don't understand. And wouldn't you know, I come home to an email about an oncology freelance writing job here in NC. sigh. I just have to have faith that it will work out. Somehow, in the end, it will work out.

I'm a big listmaker. Since turning 30 in December, I've been feeling a little bit like time is slipping by, unnoticed until another year has passed. I'm not upset about turning 30 - I think this will be the best decade yet - but there are things I want to do before I am 40. So here's my list, of 30 things I want to do before I turn 40.

1. Get a book deal and get published.

2. Go back to Israel.

3. Visit Italy.

4. Finish a half-Ironman by the time I am 35, and a full Ironman before I am 40.

5. Run a marathon.

6. Get married.

7. Become a mother.

8. Visit Prague and Croatia.

9. Pay off a good portion of my student loans (although, with Columbia.....not sure how likely that will be).

10. Run the NYC marathon.

11. Start a psychosocial oncology writing therapy program at a major cancer center (besides Sloan-Kettering, who already has one and that I'll be volunteering with come fall).

12. Get my ACSM personal trainer certification, finally.

13. Read Ulysses by James Joyce.

14. Read a good portion of the "classics".

15. Learn Italian.

16. Start practicing yoga routinely. For real.

17. Visit California and my friends Jessi and Carrie.

18. Be the best aunt ever to my nephew Trey. :)

19. Maybe race the Kona Ironman (if I get in by lottery).

20. Meet Molly Barker, the founder of Girls on the Run. We've emailed and we're Facebook friends, but I have yet to meet her.

21. Get something published in The New Yorker.

22. Own a Balenciaga motorcycle bag.

23. Try skiing.

24. Come back to Chapel Hill to live.

25. Visit Niketown - THE Niketown, in Oregon.

26. Resting when I need rest and listen to my body, to avoid future injuries.

27. See Tori Amos in concert.

28. If the Stones go on tour one more time, see them in concert.

29. See Madonna in concert.

30. Be healthy enough to do even more than I thought possible in my 40s.

dirty thirty.

In three days I will turn 30, and you know, I'm not upset about it. After all, as someone said to me yesterday, what's the alternative? No, but in all seriousness, at the beginning of 2010, I was dreading turning 30 - my own "thrisis", if you will (the new buzzword for the crisis over turning 30) - but now, I welcome it. I think...no, I know, that this decade will be a really good one. In many ways, it feels like my life is only just beginning; that child-like sense of possibility has been renewed and I am excited for what lies ahead.

The past ten years have brought a lot to my life. A college degree, two graduate degrees, a wonderful and sweet little nephew, moving to the South (and liking it, no less), and a new baby cousin. Over the past decade, I have lived in PA, FL, NY and NC. I have seen numerous people - too many people - in my life face cancer, and was reunited with my childhood goal of working in oncology. I have had three foot surgeries on my left foot and learned the lessons of patience and tenacity. I got to work at my dream job for one summer, meeting world-famous cancer researchers whom I had only previously read about. I played college rugby and found triathlon, a sport that has given me back my health and my sense of self as an athlete. The past ten years have been hard and full of struggle and disappointments, but also full of human kindness, relationships, and the work of perseverance. When I first moved to New York in 2003, someone sent me an email with this quote by Freud - "One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful." While I appreciated the quote even back then, it is only now that I fully appreciate its truth.

I have been thinking a lot about what I want to bring with me into my thirties and what I want to leave behind. I hope my thirties are about living life with no regrets, being in the moment and pursuing my heart. Hopefully I will meet my future husband and start a family of my own. And in my heart, I know that no matter what, in the next ten years, I will become a mother, whether it be with biological children or through adoption. My thirties will be about abundance, not restriction. I want to make choices based on love and hope, rather than fear or anxiety. And maybe this all seems naive and foolish, but maybe it's good to set the bar high. I look back at who and where I was at the age of 20, and really like the person I have become since then.

In Judaism, there is a blessing called the Shehechiyanu. It is typically recited on the first day of a holiday or when doing something new. This blessing thanks G-d for keeping us alive and bringing us to this moment. You can bet that on Saturday, my 30th birthday, I will be reciting the Shehechiyanu with my heart wide open.

not so rare.

I got an email from my supervisor, Jennifer, at MSKCC today. She is riding in MSKCC's Cycle for Survival, which is an indoor cycling event to raise money for rare cancers. More than half of all cancers are "rare", and it includes childhood cancers, uterine cancer, cervical cancer, sarcoma, appendix cancer, brain cancer, and others. These rare cancers do not get as much research money as the "common" cancers, and as such, there are generally fewer options for treatment. My supervisor is riding in memory of her mother, and I'd really like to see her surpass her fundraising goal. Click here to go to her fundraising page.

I had an amazing summer in 2008, and really felt like I was learning a ton and had a purpose in life. Every day, I would tell my parents, "Today was the best day ever..." Jennifer helped make my experience at Memorial one of the best experiences of my life, and I'd like to help her with this.

Go to the website, read more about rare cancers, and learn what you can do to help raise money for research and treatment.

We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love. - Mother Teresa

my next tattoo.

I want this to be my next tattoo. It's the MSKCC symbol, surrounded by the breast cancer ribbon and the ovarian cancer ribbon. Right now, this sums up my life, my interests, my passions, and everything important to me and who I have become. Now I just need the money to get this done! (And figure out where I would get it).

Sugarland, summer adventures, and medical musings

I am sick of buying cards for people because of cancer. I am sick of hearing that people I care about are getting surgery because of more rogue cells. I am getting tired of the heartbreak, of the helpless feelings, and of the non-answers the medical community has to give so many of us regarding cancer. But I also know that those IN the medical community are just as frustrated.....because, dare I say, I am one of those people. I have my MS, my MPH, I've been with the LAF and i2y...I think maybe I can say that. And maybe that's why this is such a double-edged sword for me. Part of me wants to bury my head in the sand and just not think of cancer ever again, but a bigger part of me wants to learn everything I can about it and DO something about it. It drives me to push myself toward more. 

It's been a busy week....in the span of 4 days, I worked over 40 hours babysitting - although, most of the time, it didn't feel like work, since these kids are awesome. I got to spend time at the pool with them, got tan/burned, went to Sugarland, one of my favorite places here in Chapel Hill, went to Starbucks with them, and had many domestic adventures, to say the least. But I came home every night, exhausted and worn out. And I'm trying to put together my schedule, but it's incredibly frustrating. And the financial aid stuff is stressing me out......I had somewhat of an internal breakdown the other day, because I thought, what in G-d's name am I doing? Can I really do this? Really? Is this all a big mistake??? And you know what, I'm terrified. I miss NY, I miss working at MSKCC, I'm scared of these science classes.....but I know that if I don't at least give it my best shot, I will always wonder, what if....and I'm sick of wondering that. I'm sick of regretting things. As Wayne Gretzsky once said, you always miss 100% of the shots you DON'T take. This is a journey....one that I am not familiar with at all,  and one that will be challenging. I've never really truly had to work at schoolwork. But I will have to work my butt off for this. This stuff does not come easy to me. I haven't been challenged like this before, and I think it will be good for me. 

I'm reviewing books again for Elle magazine, yay! I just got a shipment from them for the year-end prize thing, but I'm reviewing books for their October issue, but haven't gotten those yet. I'm looking forward to it. 

This weekend will be filled with moving and packing. I HATE moving. Always have. I want to settle down somewhere......but probably won't for a while. 

I've been thinking a lot about last summer in Manhattan. As I was there, I knew that it was an amazing summer. I knew what a great opportunity it was. Heck, I still carry around my MSKCC lanyard in my bag for luck. I miss it every day. If offered a job there, would I take it? Possibly. I would really give it considerable thought. I loved every day there. Is it worth paying exorbitant amounts of money to live in NY? maybe, for a short time. I do love it there. 

I don't know. I've never had so many emotions and thoughts and things pulling me in so many directions before. I don't have any easy answers here....I don't have any answers, actually. Does this make me uneasy? Of course. Do I feel untethered and ungrounded? Yes. But I have to have faith that the universe is unfolding as it should.....I just have to have blind faith, I think. 

searching for my heart

A year ago tomorrow was my first day at MSKCC. I remember I was so nervous. It was wicked hot that day, and my heart was pounding so hard I thought it would explode out of my chest. I had been waiting for this for so long, and I was finally about to start my much-anticipated practicum at MSKCC. I was so intimidated by everyone there and how smart they were and how amazing the place is....I mean, for me, this was it. I mean, this was it. I had wanted this for 5 years, and here it was. And it didn't disappoint, I can tell you that. Jennifer, my attending, was (is) amazing, Rika and Dara were so much fun and brightened my day, Susan helped me even when I asked her a million questions, and everyone there was so willing to help and assist people and talk with you, even if you were a lowly intern. I met my idol, Jimmie Holland, and loved, loved, LOVED having an mskcc.org email address. Every day, coming out of the 96th st subway after my day at work, I'd be on the phone with my mom or dad, invariably telling them what an amazing day I had had. It was a lot of work, and I didn't want to let my supervisor down, and it was intimidating in the beginning, but it confirmed for me that I was in the right field, oncology. Cancer, day in and day out....and I loved it. I worked on the weekends, I read journal articles at night, I did lit searches after work.....and I honestly loved every minute of every day I was there. I miss it. So why is there such hesitance when I think about maybe returning there? 

And if I do get in to the post-bac at UNCG, can I really handle organic chem? And physics? And biology? When I think about it, I'm excited (I know, huge dork)....and I haven't been this excited since last summer. Especially after not really being proud of myself for the MPH, this new feeling renews my hope. It renews my purpose. It feels right. In my heart, science and medicine feels right. It has taken me a while to get here.....and to trust myself, my instincts, the voice inside my heart....but I'm here now. 

And isn't that what really counts?

hitting a wall.

I want this Jeep. It's a Lilly Pulitzer Jeep Wrangler. How prep-tastic is this??

So. It's been a week of applying to jobs, soul-searching, nannying, and sleeping. It's getting discouraging, the whole job situation. I am still waiting about MSKCC and calling the HR woman this week, and I've looked at Georgetown's cancer center and Northwestern. I applied for a position at UNC today that sounds neat, and hopefully it will lead to something. I'm just struggling to find my place right now. And so are many of those in my cohort, so I don't feel so bad - because I know how amazing everyone is, and how lucky employers would be to hire us. I've been thinking a lot lately about my life here in Chapel Hill and how much I love it, but I was also reminded today about how I loved living in Manhattan last summer. I was watching "The City", and it reminded me of when I'd leave my apt and walk to the 96th st subway in the already-stifling humid morning air, feeling confident in my clothes and excited to go to work. Every day I could honestly say I loved my job. How many people can say that? So why am I so ambivalent about the possibility of returning?? How many people honestly ever say no to MSKCC? It's an amazing place. I left every day exhausted and spent, but inspired and satisfied. Seriously, I read my journal from last summer, and nearly every entry starts with "I had the best day". I love just soaking up all that it had to offer, and I miss my coworkers and attending. I miss free Starbucks iced coffee on wednesdays with Rika. I miss gchat conversations when we were 3 cubicles away from each other. I miss Pinkberry lunches and Buttercup BakeShop obsessions and snack runs. I miss the energy of the city, the humming that seemed to infuse the pavement and electrify the environment. I miss the Barnes & Noble across the street from my office (dangerous) that opened at 7am and going there for a morning coffee and magazine browsing time. I don't miss paying $5 for a box of cereal and always feeling poor and unattractive (because living in NY has the tendency to make one immediately feel ugly and fat). 

How do I reconcile my love of the city and my love for Chapel Hill? Here my life is so much more relaxed, that's a given. I don't feel pressure to "be" a certain way, or dress a certain way. People are nicer, life is affordable, I love my neighborhood....I don't know. The two seem at odds with each other, and I'm not sure I can resolve it. I mean, I wear a sterling silver 5th Ave charm around my neck! Its weight reminds me every time I wear it of Manhattan and my connections to the city. 

But I've been obsessing over MSKCC for nearly 5 years now. Working there last summer has been the highlight of my life, to date. Working there full-time....would be what I've been waiting for and working towards. So it's a lot to think about. 

There is a girl I went to high school with, J, and lately she's been on my mind a lot. After we graduated high school, she had breast cancer at the age of 19 and went through treatment, etc. Recently she was diagnosed with a recurrence, at the age of 29. She just had a bilateral mastectomy - mandatory on one side, prophylactic on the other, with tissue expanders, and eventually, reconstruction. And then chemo/rtx. This terrifies and angers me. It terrifies me because how could this possibly happen to someone my age?? And yet it angers me because....how could this possibly happen to someone my age? The questions are the same, and I keep running up against a wall when I try to search for some answers. Faith provides no comfort, medicine provides no acceptable explanations. I'm not sure what I would do if I were faced with her situation. Although I had come to the decision a few months ago that if my grandmother was positive for the BRCA gene, and I turned out to be positive, I would elect to have a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. Thankfully, I do not have to make such a decision, because my grandmother was negative. But that's not to say that, G-d forbid, I won't have to make that decision in the future at some point. 

I don't know....I was thinking about this the other night. I don't want to sound like a traitor, but when do we stop fooling ourselves? Like with certain Stage IV cancers, when do we stop fighting and start palliating? Of course, this is a per-patient decision, but on a larger scale....survivorship. I'm interested in the field, I've worked in the field....sometimes it just seems cruel. Sometimes I want to scream, SHOW ME A LONG-TERM SURVIVOR OF GLIOBLASTOMA MULTIFORME WITH A DECENT LIFE when confronted with a survivor of GBM that's 1 or 2 years post-dx. Maybe I'm just in a pessimistic mood tonight, but right now, I feel like we are NOT winning the so-called "war on cancer". And maybe we never will. But damnit, why are the drugs still so toxic? Why are the surgeries still so disfiguring? Why do we not have better screening? Why are there such still disparities among populations? Why are some cancers virtually ignored, while others get money thrown at them with abandon? It is this anger that propels me into the field of oncology. This anger is that voice in the back of my head saying, don't you dare waste this passion for oncology, don't you DARE. This anger stems from watching friends and family deal with cancer and die from cancer. This anger makes me want to do something, it reminds me that there's still so much that needs to be done. 

it never ends

Shit. Shit shit shit. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has had surgery today for pancreatic cancer. She's being treated at Sloan-Kettering; you can read the article here. I hope she is one of the lucky few whose cancer was caught very early and hasn't metastasized. 

pass the prozac, please.

*sigh*. I'm struggling. There, I said it. I'm struggling with being overwhelmed and over-stressed. I haven't found my groove yet this semester, which is bothersome, and I hope I find it soon. I'm worried sick over PhD program decisions, and the overall uncertainty is killing me. I'm uncertain where I will be after July, what I will be doing, who I will live with, where I will live, etc. And right now, I have no control over any of this, which makes it even worse and more nerve-wracking. I'm exhausted all the time, I think because the nerves and stress tire me out. I try and relieve stress by going to the gym and doing guided imagery, but my brain just keeps working overtime. I feel like once I know about school, things will get easier. Or less stressful. And of course, things will get A LOT less stressful by 5pm on April 24th, when my Master's Paper is due. 

I was rereading old blog entries because I was really missing NY/MSKCC, and I read the entry where I went to the lecture by that woman from Harvard Business School. She said that everything looks like a failure from the middle - but it's really NOT a failure, unless you give up. I need to remind myself of that. I really do miss NY. I miss it a lot. I miss NY bagels. I miss all the ethnic food, especially the awesome falafel. I miss Pinkberry. I miss Jamba Juice and walking past Dalton and walking along Madison and the pinkaliciouness of the Juicy Couture store. I miss Bergdorf's and Fifth Ave and Scoop. I miss Columbus Circle and Central Park West and the Park and even the subway. I even miss - gasp - downtown. I miss Duane Reade and late night trips to B&N with Jessica. I even miss the crankiness of the people at my Dunkin' Donuts near Memorial. I console myself with the thought that I will go back to the city for a day during spring break. And who knows? Maybe if Columbia accepts me, I'll be living on the UWS again. 

baby mama drama, Master's thesis, and snow...good times.

It actually SNOWED here yesterday - a good 4 inches or so, which is like, unheard of. I didn't really think it would snow, until I woke up in the morning and looked out my window. It was really nice to see snow. 

So, I don't know if I've posted on here about this.....but I'm sure everyone knows Lance Armstrong will be a daddy in June....well, I know his baby mama! Anna was in my group at the Summit this past summer, when we were broken down into groups of like, 10 people. She and I walked back to the auditorium together one day, and she told me that Lance had hit on her, but he was "kind of skeezy". Um, yeah. Not too skeezy, as it turns out. Craziness. And now she's having his baby. wow. Lance, just so you know, you missed your chance, buddy. I was there in OH, in Anna's group, and your penchant for blondes led you to overlook me. Your loss. 

School's been really busy, and I'm a little overwhelmed with work. I've decided on a thesis topic, and I'm going back to my original choice - AYA cancer survivorship. I'm not sure what approach I am using, but I have a little time to figure it out. 

I often think about my summer at Memorial, because it was the best summer of my life so far. It really opened up my eyes that, yes, this is what I want to do with my life. I seriously enjoyed every single day I got up to go to work. I never dreaded going. How many people can honestly say that? And I wasn't even getting paid! But I remember each morning, getting to my subway stop, and emerging onto the muggy, humid sidewalks, and going straight to Dunkin' Donuts for my morning iced coffee and bagel. And on the way home, the familiar routine....I miss it. As much as living in New York is a struggle, and financial nightmare, there's something about it that I love. And now, if by some miracle I do get into Columbia, do I go back? It depends on where else I would get in....which is a whole other ball of angst that I'm not dealing with tonight. I've been thinking a lot about my summer experience, mainly because I was really torn about my thesis topic -- I just felt so burnt out from cancer - I couldn't escape it in my academic life, my personal life, the books I read - and I needed a break. But when I tried to think of another topic I wanted to spend the semester studying and pouring my heart into, I drew a blank. There's nothing else I want to be doing. This is my passion. And I feel pretty good about my decision. I don't want this thesis to be just another paper. I want it to be a representation of who I am and what I can become. I want it to be my heart and soul and mind on paper. I want my readers to be inspired and excited. I want it to be a foreshadowing of what I will do in the field. It will be something I am proud of, knowing that I poured my life and soul into it, bound it, and turned it in. I want my enthusiasm to leap off the pages and move others to take action. And this all needs to be done by the end of April. 

Manhattan, I just can't shake you

                                  

So, I was talking to my grandmother tonight, and she was telling me about her day in NY seeing a show and going for dinner, and she mentioned how she passed Bergdorf Goodman, and that "that part of the city is much nicer than the Times Sq area." I was like, um, that's because it's the Upper East Side! And it made me miss MSKCC, because if you go just a few blocks east and south of Bergdorf's, that's where I worked. Good times indeed. It made me miss the chaotic-ness of the city, the feeling that even at 2am, there's life going on outside. It made me miss 10pm walks to Pinkberry with Jessi, and sitting on the steps of the 92nd st Y, and obsessing about maybe one day owning a place in the Yorkville Towers, and walking to the best falafel place EVER. And what made me miss NY even more was that my research TA gave me an article on adolescent cancer survivors and health behavior, and in the article they wrote, "As Ford and Ostroff have mentioned...."!!! Um, HELLO, I worked with them!!! It was so neat to see that and be like, yup, I know them. Needless to say, that REALLY made me miss MSKCC. It's been a really difficult adjustment getting used to school again. I thought it would be done by now, but I'm definitely still reconciling that. So for now, at least until I can get back to Manhattan over winter break, I have to be content with wearing lots of black, daydreaming of Dylan's Candy Bar and Pinkberry, and eating lots of bagels. (Although, again, doesn't compare to H&H bagels). Such a love/hate relationship I have with the city. 

middle ground

Oh. My. G-d. I am exhausted. I babysat the twins today for 4.5 hours, and let me tell you - it is definitely a full-time job, as all kids are. But there's two of them. It's A LOT harder than I thought....and I wasn't expecting it to be easy. But when neither one is eating lunch and you're trying to calm a screaming baby and trying to feed the other one without getting food all over the place, it's hard. Then they smile at you with their big gummy smiles, so honest and innocent, and you fall in love with them all over again. 

Still trying to figure out some sort of time management/schoolwork routine and trying not to get too overwhelmed . I had a huge craving for Zabar's hamentashen today. And an H&H bagel. And, of course, Pinkberry. I miss feeling like I was living on the pulse of everything. It's a dynamic energy in the air in Manhattan that can be overstimulating and overwhelming, but also very exciting and satisfying. I'm trying to find that middle ground between NY and Chapel Hill again. I miss my work at MSKCC a lot, and often think of it. I miss that singular focus on oncology and everything that goes with it. I miss being in an environment where the passion for it is almost palpable. I miss feeling like my work is actually making a difference. This summer, I woke up every morning, excited to get on the subway and go downtown to work. I did work on the weekends and enjoyed it. I miss that. 

"Believe that your life is worth living, and your belief will help create the fact." - William James, American psychologist and philosopher (thanks, K!)

back in the OC

Wow. I am exhausted. I am back in NC, and relieved that the 7-8 hour drive is over. Now I am busy getting things organized in my new place - which is difficult, since my bed won't be delivered until next week, and also because I think I have to go get a chest of drawers and a table or something. So in effect, my room is  a mess. It's utter chaos and disorganization, which I hate. But I am so happy to be back here, and now I have to do the practicum review and field report. 

Do I miss NY? Yes and no. I miss my work at MSKCC, I miss the people there. In a strange way, I miss the background noise of the city, and I miss the ability to walk everywhere. I DON'T miss the prices in NY, and I DON'T miss the rudeness. I'll miss the subways, and I'll miss the shopping. And the food - definitely the food. But I'm really happy to be back in North Carolina, especially in my new neighborhood. 

cupcakes and cancer

Buttercup Bake Shop cupcakes. 

Tomorrow is my last day at MSKCC....as I type that, it doesn't seem real. The days and weeks have flown by, way too fast. I feel like just yesterday I unpacked my stuff and was nervous about starting. And though I loved it from the beginning, somewhere along the way it ceased to be just my practicum, but a large part of who I am. As Jennifer, my supervisor, said today, we spend a lot of our free time working on this stuff, so it makes sense that we love it. And she's right. Many weekends this summer I was busy reading journal articles, or adding to the lit reviews, or reading a book I picked up at the MSKCC library. But it didn't seem like work to me. And to have to leave this.....I hope I get to return to Memorial in the future - if not as a post-doc research fellow, then in some sort of capacity. I learned so much this summer, and really built my experience and confidence. I am forever indebted to everyone who taught me and helped me at MSKCC - it was an amazing experience. And maybe, most importantly, I found out that the people who work there, in the end, are simply human. I mean, I've read article after article written by Jamie Ostroff, or Tim Ahles, or Kevin Oeffinger, or Jimmie Holland - they are known in the field and I admire their work tremendously. To be in the same physical space as they were was overwhelming enough intially, but to actually have interactions with them - wow. But I found out that they, too, struggle with grants, and writing, and roadblocks in research. They are approachable and helpful, and very down-to-earth. They're human. They had to start somewhere. 

Tomorrow Rika, Dara, and I are going to Buttercup Bake Shop for their yummy cupcakes. Buttercup is owned by the woman who co-founded Magnolia Bakery.....I had two of their cupcakes last week for lunch. Sublime. A little piece of heaven, with pink pastel sugar frosting. Nearly going into a diabetic coma afterwards was well worth it. Today Rika and I went to Pinkberry for lunch.....I think Pinkberry and I are breaking up. I felt really ill afterwards. Oh well. It was just a summer fling. 

My task now is to try and consolidate the 7 bags I have into something more manageable. Somehow I doubt I will be succesful in getting all 7 to Penn Station thursday morning, even taking a cab. Suggestions would be welcome. 

why Pediatrics?

This is the playroom at the Pediatric Pavilion.

My time at MSKCC is quickly coming to an end, at least for this summer. I would love to be back there at some point, but I don't know when that will be. I have learned so much this summer, about myself, about oncology, and about life. I know without a doubt that working in oncology is for me, and my passion for it has grown exponentially. 

My supervisor and I were talking on Friday, and she had asked me what I liked about my experience, and I told her I love how I can tell that people really love what they do, and that they believe in what they do. It's not just a job to them. And I love that, because that's how I feel about this. It's not just something I turn on and off and would do simply for a paycheck. It's my passion, it's my goal - it's the fire that keeps pushing me to do more. And I can tell that the others are there for the same reason. There are easier ways of making money, especially in medicine and psychology. There are easier fields of study to go into, rather than oncology, where death - or the thought of death -  is something that is faced on a daily basis, whether it is spoken or not. People go into oncology for a reason, and it's not about the money. 

We toured the Pediatric ward on Friday, and it was amazing. That might sound weird to some people, to hear me describe a place where children are dying - and living - with cancer as "amazing", but it really was. It was as cheerful as you can get in a place you'd rather not be. The atmosphere was different, and words really fail me to describe the specialness I felt about it. I could see myself working there, and though it was sad for me to see some of the kids - especially the littlest ones - I felt at ease. It made me think of my  nephew, and how grateful I am for his health. People often say G-d, kids with cancer? How depressing. But really, it's all how you look at it. I could say the same thing about working with lower SES patients, or with children with special health care needs, or with Third World countries - but there are others who are so passionate about those things, and I think that's great - how all of us have different passions and goals and dreams and are willing to work to make things better in that world. There is something pure and honest about children, and they have innate hope. Yes, it goes against all rhyme and reason when a child is seriously ill. No, I don't have any answers and it is very hard for me to believe that it is part of G-d's plan. But I am willing to research anything and everything to make things better. I am willing to sit with them and their pain, and just listen. I am willing to bear witness to their stories, and make that human connection that others shy away from in times of illness. And sometimes, that's enough. 

"Part of the job of being human is to consistently underestimate our effect on other people." - Lucy Grealy, from Autobiography of a Face

my continuing rollercoaster of a relationship with Manhattan

This is a map of Manhattan, and all the different neighborhoods. Technically, I live in Yorkville, which is part of the Upper East Side. I used to live in Morningside Heights, which, technically, was on the Upper West Side. People here are very territorial about their 'hoods. It's a NY thing. 

I've been sick for the past few days, too busy coughing up my lungs to post anything. But hopefully I'm on an upswing here, in time to go to OH tomorrow for the LAF Summit. I decided to go because my friends from i2y and the LAF brought up a good point - I'm going to see THEM, and if the LAF isn't bringing awareness to AYA cancer issues, then who will? We will. So we're all going to wear our "Stupid Cancer" t-shirts and be subversive and give AYAers a voice. Good times. And, of course, I can't wait to see everyone again! Plus, the eye candy that is Lance. 

2 weeks from today is my last day at MSKCC, and I am really sad about it. I think that this has been the best job/internship I have ever had. I absolutely, truly love what I am doing, and I hate the thought of leaving. I've wanted to work at MSK for so long, and now that I am, I don't really want to give that up just yet! Maybe at some point in the future, I will have the chance again. I sure hope so, because I am inspired every day to keep doing what I do. But on another level, I am ready to leave NY.....and I never, ever, ever thought I'd say that. Really. But honestly, why would I want to pay this kind of rent when I could own something in Chapel Hill for much less per month? And have it be twice or three times the size? I think the only way I'd come back to NY would be either for a PhD program or working at MSK - and even then, I'd probably live in Brooklyn. I know, something else I thought I'd never say. 

Signs that it's time to leave NY:

- you lose touch with what's going on outside the borough and your world shrinks down to just Manhattan 

- you realize that much of the time, you're dressing like you're going to a funeral - all in black

- you consider it your lucky day if you get a seat on the subway

- you think nothing of paying $7 for a beer - NOT bottled

- pinkberry starts to take on incredible importance

- you give inordinate amount of thought to Magnolia cupackes vs Crumbs - and you actually debate this with friends

- when someone is nice to you, you're caught off guard

But of course, I know that when I get back to Carolina, I'm going to miss the aforementioned cupcakes (even though Carolina Bakery cupcakes are pretty darn excellent), i'm going to go through Pinkberry withdrawal, and I'll even miss the semi-organized, sensory overload chaos that is the city. I can't win. 

Reading: The Big House by George Howe Colt

Listening: Jem, Kerli, Katy Perry, Metric