for KM.

I don't know what it is like to have a husband have cancer. But when you told me your husband was diagnosed with a rare cancer, I saw the pain and fear and questions in your eyes, the determination to be positive and hope for the best; I know these feelings well. It all made sense to me now - the sound in your voice a few weeks ago when you said that there was an emergency, that I couldn't place but knew it sounded so familiar....it was stunned shock. (Is there even any other kind?). I know what it's like to mobilize forces and energy to get everything in place, line up appointments, call the appropriate people, get the second opinions and wait for results. I know the relief at hearing it can be easily taken care of, that it's early stage; and yet I also know the anguish at hearing the cancer is advanced or metastatic, and that treatment is possible, but not cure. I know what it's like to look at everyone else, to look at the world around you and think, how can everyone else's life go on like normal, when mine has completely changed? Don't they KNOW that nothing will ever be the same?? I know the cruel irony of a beautiful warm, sunny spring or fall day while life feels like it's under one big dark cloud. I am intimate with late nights of staying up with the stars because sleep eludes me and my mind won't shut off. I know what it's like to have friends never mention anything or ask questions, when all the while you just want to unleash information and feelings. People have surprised me, in both good and bad ways; I imagine the same with you, too. I don't know what it's like to have children and tell them the news, but I do know what it's like to want to - to need to - be strong for others. It gets easier, it does. And somehow, surprisingly, strength has a way of breeding more strength. I don't know what it's like to work full-time while my life feels like it's in limbo, but I know what it's like to have to study and perform when everything is uncertain. Though I don't know what it's like to have someone be diagnosed with a rare cancer, I know what it's like to have a loved one be diagnosed with a rare *enough* cancer (PPC) that no books are available at B&N on it. I know the feeling of going to the bookstore to find something - anything - to give me information on what I'm supposed to do, what I'm supposed to say, what's supposed to happen.....and just wanting to ask someone about it all.

In an alternate universe, or another lifetime, I would be the one listening to and helping you, instead of the other way around. In any other situation, I'd dip into my stash and give LiveStrong bracelets and the LiveStrong survivorship treatment binders and information or StupidCancer bracelets and pins....

I can't do much in this situation, but I can do this.

Cancer is a word, not a sentence. - John Diamond

almost 2 years later.

Friday will mark 2 years since Eve was murdered. Those who know me know that I have been fascinated by this case since the beginning. Like I've said before, I think it's because as a young woman, I identify strongly with Eve, and I love and feel safe in Chapel Hill. The brutality of this crime is sharply juxtaposed with the place I have made my home, which makes it even more jarring. The random senselessness, the stark contrast between her vibrant life and lonely death, and the brutality shown in her killing have all made it a huge thing to process, and I think UNC is still processing, in its own way.

The day they announced that the Jane Doe was actually Eve was an unseasonably warm clear day, with a Carolina blue sky. The days that followed, right before spring break, were filled with darkness and torrential rains, like the sadness and grief were everywere. This Thursday (tomorrow), the Eve Carson Memorial Garden here at UNC will be dedicated, and the weather tomorrow, after days of gray dreariness and rain....is supposed to be sunny with a sky of beautiful Carolina blue. The name "Eve" means life. The Hebrew derivative is Chaya, which means "to live"; or Chavah, which means "breathe". I think a garden is a perfect memorial, because the beauty and life of the flowers will continue to grow and bring comfort and peace to others.

For those of you who don't know, her killers - sorry, her "alleged" killers who are on tape using her ATM card and in her SUV - were supposed to be in jail. They slipped through cracks in the probation system. One of them also murdered a Duke graduate student earlier that year - he was shot in the head in his own apartment. One of them is up for the death penalty, and the other is not, because he was only 17 at the time. I'm sorry, but if you're old enough to callously kill someone and have no remorse, you're old enough to get the death penalty. And though all murders are violent, this one - 5 shots, the last one in the temple with a shotgun, where she held her hand up to shield her face - is especially so. I'm not writing this to "sensationalize" it. I'm writing it because it shouldn't have happened. I'm writing it because it was markedly brutal, and yet because the boy was 17, that is enough to shield him from the maximum sentence? There are people doing the right thing and living their lives in a good way who don't have food or shelter, and I'm supposed to pay for these criminals to get 3 squares and a bed? What's not right with this? You mean to tell me they'll ever be "rehabilitated"? I know this sentiment isn't popular, and that's fine. It's just my opinon. But Eve's parents and brother don't get to talk to her on the phone. Her brother's future kids will never know their Auntie Eve. They walk by her empty bedroom. Their years are full of milestones - birthdays, holidays, celebrations - that she's absent from. They are adjusting to a whole new way of life. They will never be the same. They live with wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling those last hours. Her killers may have done the crime, but it's her family who has the life sentence. How is that fair?

"Think about this moment. This day and this moment, this is the best day of our lives right now." - Eve Marie Carson

role reversal

So in less than a month, the tables will be turned and I will be the patient. I am having foot surgery to correct my bunion...again. Same foot. Yep, the first surgery, which was 2 days after my college graduation, only shaved the bone bump off. And the bone continued to curve, resulting in a nifty half-moon shape that is throwing the sesamoid bones (in the bottom of the foot) "off track". The bone needs to be broken and the tendons realigned. The surgery is Friday, 3/26, and I'm hoping to be back to school by Wednesday 3/31. The thing I dread is not being able to run for 8-10 weeks. Looks like I will be getting in some pool and biking time for the tri, huh?

This is the last week before spring break...I just have to get through this week, and then I can relax....sort of. I'll be studying over break, but at least I won't have classes and new material. School is going okay. Much to my surprise, A&P is actually not interesting me so much right now, but Microbiology is. I think it's because now we're studying immunology, and I find that so fascinating. Plus, I think immunology is related to oncology in many ways, and that's familiar to me.

Anyway...not much else is new. I've been studying and making notecards for my classes and studying some more, and writing for the ACS blog and articles for livestrong.com, so my life hasn't really felt like my own. Not to mention I need about 12 more hours in a day.

Dorothy had it wrong.

From "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz":

"Dorothy wanted to see more of the Princess, so she ran after her. But the china girl cried out, "Don't chase me! Don't chase me!" She had such a frightened little voice that Dorothy stopped and said, "Why not?"

"Because", answered the Princess, also stopping, a safe distance away, "if I run I may fall down and break myself."

"But could you not be mended?", asked the girl.

"Oh, yes; but one is never so pretty after being mended, you know", replied the Princess.

"I suppose not," said Dorothy.

It doesn't take a philosophy or Women's Studies major to see the broader meaning and implications about this...at least, I don't think so. Maybe it's just because of my psychology background, I don't know. In some way, aren't we all broken, or in the mending process? Maybe it's up to us to see the beauty in the cracks, to read the stories of the ridges and scars. Isn't it said that once a bone is broken, after it mends, it is stronger than before? Maybe our broken pieces give us strength. After all, if something sits on a shelf and is never enjoyed, that's not very exciting, is it? It's only by experiencing life that we become nicked here and there, maybe cracked open or even shattered. But eventually, we piece ourselves together with some help and love, and continue our journey.

There's such a collective emphasis in society of not showing weakness, not showing our broken or wounded parts. We like to show shiny, pretty surfaces and neat, tidy packages. But as someone recently pointed out to me, vulnerability often draws people closer; we often like them even more after we know that part of them, because we connect on that basic level. At our centers, we're all vulnerable.

Once something breaks us, even temporarily, we're never the same. Ever. We're different. Maybe we can become better, even. And I would venture to say that, no, we're never as pretty as we were prior to breaking. We're prettier.

this kind of work.

"This kind of work, it changes you....and it IS too easy to lose your way." These words were just spoken on Grey's Anatomy by the Chief of Surgery. He was talking to the physicians and telling them about his experience with a person with AIDS back when AIDS first came on the scene. And though Grey's is often far-flung from the truth, there is truth to these words. Hearing him say them...well, it sounds cheesy, but it reminded me why I am on this path and why I continue to slog through, despite setbacks and failures and struggle, despite having to take undergrad classes at the age of 29....I do it because I love it. I love oncology, and it feels right working in the field. I honestly cannot see myself doing anything else but something in oncology. There is something humbling in working with people and families living with cancer. Many days, you are the one being taught. There is something magical in the human spirit, that is amazing to watch and be a part of. Though it can be depressing work, the relationships and resilience and hope are also a huge part of it.

This is what I need to keep in the forefront of my mind when I get discouraged with my classes, or overwhelmed with memorizing. This is what I need to remember when I find myself thinking I'm crazy for doing this and not taking a job that is simply satisfactory but pays the bills. I need to remember my grandmothers' gratitude when I explained her pathology report to her. I need to remind myself of my dad's "thank you's" when I broke down my aunt's medical records in everyday language. Or R's pleased surprise when I call to see how she's holding up with radiation. I need to remember Erik, Sophia, Pop-Pop, Jennifer, Jaime N, Kendal....and all the other wonderful people I have in my life who have been affected by cancer. I am tired of hearing that someone else died, or someone has a recurrence. I'm frustrated that the scale is not tilting in a different direction with cancer.

But I guess that's why I chose oncology.

Or why it chose me.

"If children have the ability to ignore all odds and percentages, then maybe we can all learn from them. When you think about it, what other choice is there but to hope? We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up, or fight like hell." -- Lance Armstrong

how quick are you gonna get up?

In the spirit of the last post, I thought this was interesting - Nike just put out an ad that has the song "Ali in the Jungle", and part of the chorus goes, "Everybody gets knocked down; how quick are you gonna get up?" I have been obsessed with this song, playing it over and over and watching the ad repeatedly. It's a great running song, as well as a reminder that people who succeed do, in fact, get knocked down over and over and over and over -- but their success comes from the fact that they got up and forged ahead, even if it meant repeated blows.

Human Chain from NikeSportswear on Vimeo.

getting over.

I had my first test on Tuesday. I have anatomy lab quizzes every Friday and had a lab exam last Friday, but this was my first class test. I didn't do well. I haven't gotten my grade, but I know I did not do well, despite having studied a lot (in my opinion). But I knew big-picture, and she was REALLY detail-oriented. In a class entitled MICRObiology, I probably should have seen that one coming. But I didn't. And though I've aced all the anatomy quizzes, I did not do well on the lab exam. Why? Because we had random bones on the table, spread out, and had to identify them. Without context. I wasn't prepared for that, and really, when will that ever happen? When will I get a random ulna on my desk and have to identify it as such? Anyway. So yesterday, after I came home from the micro test, I just cried. It was a rainy day, which didn't help. So I got on the treadmill and ran it out, but ended up going to bed by 9:30pm because I just wanted the day to be over and forgotten about. I was really upset, because I want this. I want to do well. This is a challenge, and I love challenges. It's just harder than anticipated, both the classwork AND rearranging my brain and thought processes to concrete sciences. I haven't had to do rote memorization in years, so it's been an adjustment. So I pretty much cried myself to sleep last night, feeling like I was failing at everything. And, like it always is, the morning was much better. I woke up with a clearer head and new resolve.

I did not get where I am, both personally and academically, by quitting or giving up. I don't know when I started to let myself get psyched out by little things, but that's not who I am at heart. I am a fighter, I'm "scrappy", as I was once called. I push and push and push and work til I get some sort of result. I need to build up my confidence and do better on the next exams. A woman I know, Katie, did college track & field back in the day, and she told me a story that I often fall back on. They needed her to do hurdles, which she typically didn't do. And she was talking to her coach, and her coach told her that he doesn't care how she gets over the hurdles, it doesn't have to be pretty, but just get over them. Get over the hurdles. I don't have to be pretty doing this; I don't have to get perfect scores, I just have to clear these hurdles one way or another. And that's what I'll do. It's what I've always done.

tri-WHAT?

So....I have signed up for the Ramblin' Rose sprint-triathlon that will be in Chapel Hill in October. Have you stopped laughing yet? I've never done anything like this before, and am nervous but excited. I am doing it with the Teal Toes team (individually, but representing Teal Toes), in honor of my aunt, who has advanced ovarian cancer. So I've been running since January, but now I am getting serious about it. The tri is a 250-yard swim, a 9 mile bike, and 2 mile run. I think I can do that, right? I have 8 months to train for it. I have to get a bike and swim goggles and some odds and ends, but I'm psyched. Plus, doesn't it just sound so tough, "training for a triathlon"? I think this will be a great stress reliever and motivation for me to keep healthy and take care of myself.

I also will be a featured blogger for a website, sheknows.com, in conjunction with a cancer awareness campaign the American Cancer Society is doing. Very excited about that, too.

School is going well, I think. I am studying all the time, and it still feels like never enough. I just have to get into the "science mindset". No one cares how I "feel" about the human body or germs, I just have to memorize concepts and terms. It's not analytical or esoteric; it's hard facts and information. There's been a slight learning curve in readjusting my reading and studying and approach to school. For the first time in....forever, school is really hard. I really have to work at it. The most valuable things come from hard work and struggle, or so I've been led to believe. With this, I'm inclined to agree. I think when all is said and done, my hard work, determination and tenacity will pay off, and I will get to where I want to be. At least I hope so.

2010 has certainly been a busy year so far. And it's only February.

strong in the broken places.

Things have been busy. I got the part-time job I interviewed for at the UNC School of Nursing; I start next Tuesday. It's a research job working on a study of survivors of acute childhood leukemia. I think it's a great opportunity and I'm really looking forward to starting it. I need something I'm passionate about right now.

I started 2 classes - I'm not in an academic program, but I am a part-time student taking prereq's that an accelerated BSN would need. Right now, I'm not even sure my brain works this way. It's just that all the health educator jobs I saw, wanted a NURSE health educator. Didn't matter that I had my MPH; they wanted a clinical degree. I was pretty discouraged. I still look at PhD programs in health psych and public health, but not sure what path will get me to what I want to do. Which is work in oncology, doing patient advocacy and education, and psychosocial oncology research. There are just hurdles, like to do original research, in most institutions, you need a doctorate. Even lots of research jobs I saw at UNC needed a PhD. Frustrating. I think more experience working on research will help me, and these classes will let me know if my brain works in a scientific way. The PhD program at UNC that I had applied to last year seemed to incorporate it all; we all know how THAT turned out. And I didn't have the heart to apply again this year, because I hadn't done any research since then to boost my application, so I didn't think it would make a difference. If I continue to do research throughout this year, I might apply in December...but that's a long way away. Lots can change before then. I think my goal this year is to get research work experience, mainly. I guess I will reevaluate in July/August about reapplying.

The 2 classes I am taking are Anatomy & Physiology, and Medical Microbiology. They are kicking my butt. My brain is on overload. I like the material, but I've never struggled in school like this before. I never studied much before, ever. Now I'm studying for hours each day. Science requires a whole new way of thinking; the homework isn't analytical or asking how I *feel* about anything -- it's very black and white, definite right and wrong answers, and enormous amounts of information. It's like trying to take a sip of water from a firehose. I've been studying every spare minute of the day, but not sure if I'm retaining anything. We'll see, either way, I guess. I've just never felt so inept at school in my life. For someone whose identity is wrapped largely in her academic ability and achievements, this is a bitter pill to swallow.

So, we'll see. I'm just looking forward to my job, which will place me in an area I am comfortable with and knowledgeable about - pediatric cancer. It is familiar, and a passion of mine, so I think I will be okay with that.

"The world breaks everyone, and afterwards, many are strong in the broken places." - Ernest Hemingway

there's no place like home....

The Old Well at UNC

Much of the time, I find myself missing New York. More specifically, Manhattan. I lived there twice; once on the Upper West Side when I went to Columbia for a year, and once on the Upper East Side, when I interned at MSKCC. I consider New York to be one of my homes...it is one of the few places where it immediately, instinctually felt like home the minute I arrived. Whenever the "homesickness" gets to be too much, I find myself reading the NY travel guides I have. Despite having lived in North Carolina for over 2 years, I still subscribe to New York magazine and regularly buy Time Out New York, when I can find it. No cupcakes here will ever live up to Buttercup Bake Shop or Crumbs, no bagel here will be half as good as H&H, and don't even think about giving me a black and white that isn't from the city.

Though not a native New Yorker, I am definitely a Northerner, born and bred. I walk fast, talk fast, can be an aggressive driver, and often find myself (unfortunately) short on patience. So how on earth did I find myself making Chapel Hill my home? When I applied to grad schools, I mostly applied to Northern schools, with GW and UNC being the exceptions. Oh yeah, and Emory. I was headed to GW when I got the acceptance to UNC, and found myself south-bound, not quite sure what to expect. The friendliness was disarming at first, and the unspoken social rules hard to decipher. The fact that many people don't lock their house doors until they go to bed at night blew my mind. I'd never been to a school the size of UNC before, and never lived in a college town like Chapel Hill. When I first got here, I liked it, but was pretty sure I would move back North when I graduated.

Long story short, over the 2 years of my MPH program, I found myself liking the slower pace here, liking the friendliness, LOVING the affordability, and feeling...well....feeling like I could adopt this town as a home. Graduation came, and I knew I would stay in the South, unless a dream job in NY opened up - and even then, it would have been a tough decision.

Chapel Hill is often called "the Southern part of Heaven", and I can see why. I love my neighborhood, which is a New Urbanist neighborhood (although some people think it's too Stepford-esque), I feel safe here, and there's a quaintness to the town that I can't fully place. When I first got a Chapel Hill address, I loved the fact that I could write "Chapel Hill" - it had been a place I'd heard of over and over, with Tar Heel sports, but actually living there was something different. Although I read NY Magazine, I also find myself regularly reading Chapel Hill Magazine. Over the past 2 and a half years, I have made this town my home. I have found favorite restaurants, cupcake haunts, and people who remember me at coffee shops. Though I miss my family often, I know they are a short plane ride away. Last summer I had the opportunity to show both my mom and my grandparents, and my dad, around Chapel Hill and where I have lived, and yet nothing I showed them could adequately portray why I like it here so much. I can never fully explain to people up North the intensity of the UNC-Duke rivalry. Or why, when basketball season rolls around, I suddenly turn into a sports fan. (although the fact that my other fave team, UMiami, is also in the ACC, sometimes poses a problem).

My driver's license, registration, voting record, and in-state tuition status all point to the fact that I am a bona-fide North Carolinian. Am I a Tar Heel born and bred? No, not exactly. But right now, I am a Tar Heel, and that's good enough for me. In fact, I just found this article written by - of all things - a native New Yorker who goes to UNC. She describes many of the same sentiments.

Maybe my sweet nephew will become a Tar Heel - he already loves Ramses the ram!