A few things: 1. I'm doing a lot better. I wouldn't say I'm 100%, but I feel a lot more in control of my emotions. And just a lot more like myself, honesty. Drugs and therapy are magical. 2. I had my 16 month check-up yesterday and cleared with a clean bill of health! Yay! If I do well at my 2 year appointment, I will only need to have check-ups once per year! Woot woot! 3. I bought a boat. Woah. I know! I'm missing erging (wow, never thought I'd say that) with Lanie terribly ever since she moved to Vermont to train with the U23 (quarantined) GRP team. But having my own boat helps. A lot. 4. I went backpacking with Hershel and Parker, then backpacking again with Hershel, Parker, and their 2 friends this past weekend. Twas a blast. 5. I'm officially teaching and taking courses online in the Fall, so I will be in PA for the foreseeable future. Thinking about moving to Delaware to be closer to my boat. Yes, I'm that crazy. 6. I got to spend the 4th with some Penn State friends (after we got COVID tested, of course) at my college roomie's dad's lake house in Ohio. Such a great weekend away. 7. I just got approved for a car loan. All by my big girl self. That's helping me feel like an adult and not so behind on life. Even if I don't get a car, I feel like I'm going places. Literally and figuratively.
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Welcome to my (apparently, quarterly) update.
Not going to lie. It's been tough recently. I feel like I'm one of those circus performers who has a million plates spinning on sticks way up in the air. Once one tips over, they wack 10 more on the ground. Only I don't think I was quite aware of how precariously placed my plates were until very recently. This is a tough one to write about. A few months ago, I got in a rather terrible fight with someone very near and dear to me. I shared some athletic achievements that I was rather proud of at the time. And when they didn't react how I was hoping they would. In fact, they made a "joke" that I took quite harshly, all my plates fell to the ground. The comment festered, and it just wouldn't stop being played in my head. Over. And over. And over. And over. It's like my biggest personal preoccupation about my athletic abilities were verbalized. And not by myself, but by someone else very close to me, only confirming my fears. With the help of some medication, the festering has become more of a quiet nag in the back of my head that becomes louder in certain situations. Situations like writing this blog post right now. In an odd way, I think COVID-19 has been healthy for me. While obviously global pandemics are terrible, it has given me a much needed break from life in DC. As much as I hate to admit it, rowing has been the most stressful part of my life. I feel so behind. I feel behind in other senses in that I have friends buying houses and getting married and owning things like cars...I know...crazy stuff. But the thing that bothers me the most that I'm most behind on is rowing. I think I thought I was doing pretty well and felt like I was a stable, functioning human being. Finally coming to terms with the madness that is DC rowing. But then someone made a comment that just completely wrecked me. And I don't think I nor the person who made the comment knew how fragile I was. Don't get me wrong. It was an offensive as fuck comment. But maybe it shouldn't have caused a nearly weeks (months?) long mental breakdown. I went in for my oncology check-up. All good cancer-wise. Doc thinks I'm suffering from PTSD. My primary care doc thinks I'm suffering from depression. My newly found therapist thinks none of the above? So I'm thoroughly confused, but at least I'm getting help, right? As someone who has never struggled with their mental health before, navigating this all has just added a whole new layer of stres . Rant: Backing up a bit. Rowing stresses me out. And it doesn't help that I've been rowing at probably one of the more messed up boat clubs to row at in the US. Allow me to be pessimist but with a point for a few seconds at the risk of alienating myself from of the oldest and most respected rowing communities in the world. Because it may prevent another young sculler moving to DC believing that they can row when that is just utterly not the case. Let me lay it out for you. I would say a pretty basic requirement of a rowing club is that you can row there. Technically, non-members are only permitted to be at the boathouse for practice which is 6 days per week in the Spring, Summer, and Fall and 3 days per week during the winter. This is while non-members wait on a years long wait list. How do non-members get off of said wait list to become a full members? Well, we either wait for people to become social members, move out of DC or...WAIT FOR CURRENT MEMBERS TO DIE. Not even a joke though. While on said wait list, non-members must pay just under $2000/year to participate in a competitive program. May I mention that most other high caliber boat clubs in the country have young adult membership dues to account for being, well...a young adult desperately trying to get their feet planted on the ground (like yours truly). On top of it all, non-members are not ever permitted to use a boathouse single. (When I say non-members, I mean what the club refers to as competitive members which one senior member, aka full member so kindly mansplained to me. Surprisingly, that wasn't even close to the worst mansplain received at the club in which...well...an old white male explained to me how terribly difficult chemo is immediately after being told that I had had cancer. I digress...) Now you ask why don't you go somewhere else? Unlike cities like Philadelphia which is teeming with boat clubs, when one boat club is being an ass, you can't just hop right next door to another nationally recognized club. So here I am, almost happy that coronavirus shut down the club and the university because it gives me a mental break from the madness and politics that is DC. And a chance (or at least feeling like I have a chance) to catch up to the rest of the world. I know that sounds crazy, but that's what it feels like. I'm back at my parents' place, looking for a rowing opportunity once the storm calms down away from DC, the city I was so anxious to get back to last year. I love my grad school program and the people in it, but the fact that I'm considering quitting so I don't ever have to go back to that club is quite frankly insane. And not insane on my part, but insane that a rowing could be so political to drive someone to make such a radical life change. Rant over. For now. I feel like these thoughts have been floating around my head for the past year and just festering my brain -- rotting away my mental health little by little. And the comment I mentioned at the beginning of this long ass post was just the tipping point for me. In general, I like to think I'm a positive person, but lately, I have not been. And that's just not me. Here's to hoping my frustrations being published on the world wide web may spark change. (Although, I have to say I feel rather naive for even thinking that's possible. And not a Here Emma, you can borrow my boat kind of change. But real change, where a boat club doesn't treat young people like shit to profit off them for older members to enjoy the club.) And here's to having a more positive attitude. Hoping the change of scenery helps me make that adjustment. (I'm sure the board will be thrilled I'm far away from their club and their city should they ever lay their eyes on this post.) I just want to say how incredible the PEOPLE are who the club has connected me with. It really isn't all bad. Just the politics are. I won't name names (just because I don't want to bring anyone down with me), you know who you are...you are my sanity. The Women's Sweep Team who I trained with over the Winter are a force to be reckoned with. They provide opportunities for young adult women to not only row big boats and be freaking fast, but also to bond with a strong group of women under the helm of some pretty boss captains and their ever charismatic and fantastic technical coach. (They also have a real idea of what community outreach looks like, unlike the definition the board seems to go by, but that's an issue for another time.) The sculling team has provided me with an outlet to row and learn from some of the best rowers in the country. Legit. People with top 5 finishes at HOCR, PanAm medals, the works. And coaching from one of the kindest humans on the planet with a phenomenal ability to provide encouragement and constructive feedback at the same time. It's no wonder I'm so peeved I'm not allowed to row at the club more often. Now on top of rowing, let's add trying to keep my grades at or above an A- average to keep my scholarship and stipend, a rather tumultuous (yet at the same time non-existant...how is that even possible?) love life, a global pandemic with a brother with asma and a dad over 70, moving back in with my parents (again), and about to be kicked off of my mom's health insurance when I had cancer not even 1.5 years ago, you could say I'm dealing with some shit. (Did I miss anything??) I've had exactly one appointment with my therapist, so now I get to tell her about all the self-destructive behavior I engaged in by sharing this with you all. While this isn't the most fun, uplifting post I've ever written, it's helped to know that I'm not the only one who is struggling with mental health...especially other people in the cancer club. I think there's this stereotype that you should just be grateful that you're alive when you're a cancer survivor and those incredible humans who can have an excessively positive outlook are advertised to be the norm. But I think it's lot more complicated than that. It's ok to feel sad and angry and behind if you're a survivor of any age. At least that's what I keep telling myself. It has been WAY too long! Shout out to my 7 readers who are still checking on my blog even though I haven't posted in half a year. I commend your loyalty. Let's pick up where we left off, shall we? My friend Kallee from college and I saw each other for the first time in way too long. She came to visit me at the end of June, and we got to do a lot of sight seeing in the city. Unfortunately for you, even though we explored the Arlington National Cemetery, the Mall, and all over the city, the only two photos I have are of us from her visit is of us taking selfies with our tongues sticking out. Lanie Lou raced in the Lightweight 2x at U23 Trials on her birthday after a grueling summer of selection camp and carb-restricted eating up in Boston. Unfortunately, her boat did not qualify for worlds, but it was really amazing getting to see her row with the best of the best. Being one of the younger ladies at the selection camp, she has a couple more chances to make the U23 national team if that's a goal she chooses to pursue. Meanwhile she is nursing a hip injury whilst on a winter training trip in Florida and informing us all how insurance works (I assume that means she likes what she's studying). While I'm sure she wasn't happy about not making the team, I was certainly happy that we got to spend some time together. We headed to the beach with our neighbor/honorary big sister, Bethany. My very kind father even drove me back to DC and we explored the canal path a little bit together via bicycle. Please enjoy the following, excessively unflattering photos: My summer was filled with lots of rowing, some cycling, hiking, and overall just celebrating not having cancer. Lanie came down to visit me right before heading off to Canadian Henley and winning a bazillion medals. To top it all off, the roomie and I took a trip to Colorado with some friends. I got to see my friend Jack as my flight was out of Baltimore. He kindly offered up his own bed for the night. Jerm and I stayed with another very kind friend of mine from college, Alec, for a couple days in Denver before meeting up with the others for some camping and hiking. I even got to do a guest row at Rocky Mountain Rowing Club! One of the most hilarious parts of the trip was Jeremiah's obnoxious racecar rental upgrade. We attempted Pike's Peak. Some of us summited. Some of us (me) did not. Regardless, the views did not disappoint. On the way back to Denver, Jerm and I checked out a small hiking area near Boulder. The trip was the perfect way to cap off a great summer! Soon after returning to the DMV area, classes started and things got really crazy (hence the lack of blog posts). But Parker, Hershel, and I did manage to squeeze in one more short adventure after my first week of classes. Exactly a year ago, I found a lump on my neck and all the medical craziness was just beginning. This year, I was instead enjoying a weekend full of backpacking with friends. Couldn't help but feel grateful. The rest of the year was such a blur. Celebrated 6 months of no cancer with family and friends Rowed a lot (and even won some stuff) Became disgustingly close to my Gtown cohort (sorry, not sorry for all the cancer jokes) Jerm moved out Replaced Jerm with two new roomies (one human, one dog) Spent Thanksgiving in Michigan with family Stressed out Cried Gained perspective Laughed Celebrated Christmas at home with yummy food and the people I love Laughed some more Closed out the year with more friends while celebrating 1 year since finishing chemo I started out 2019 as a sickly skeleton of a human, feeling like I would never be healthy again, and ended 2019 feeling strong and ready to tackle whatever comes my way (except for a re-diagnosis...that wouldn't be cool). Recovery felt like such a slow process in the moment, but looking back, I can't believe how quickly by body bounced back. Here's to more healing in 2020 (mentally and physically), and thank you to everyone who has supported me along the way. I really couldn't have done it without you.
My poor father had just about the worst Father's Day you can imagine. My brother and I went home for the weekend to see my dad, but my dad had left for England seeing as his mom had a stroke. Grandma Tierney wasn't in great shape, and passed on Father's Day. While I was living at home during chemo, I got to listen in on many a conversation between my dad and grandma on Skype. Conversations tended to have a certain format: 1. We begin quickly out of the gates with insults in Irish -- usually involving calling each other old in more words. 2. Dad tells Grandma to point the camera at her face so he can see more than just the top of her head. 3. Dad wanders around the house showing Grandma all the work he's done while Grandma oohhs and aahhs with a heavy sprinkling of critiquing. 4. Dad brings mobile phone grandma into the kitchen to show her my latest bread endeavor while dad quickly loses interest as we discuss yeast breads vs soda breads. 5. Grandma comments on the volume of my hair. It was never quite voluminous enough for her liking, but she seemed quite satisfied with how floofy it became after chemo. One of my fondest memories of her was when we were staying at her house in Ireland visiting family. Before departing the US, my dad had purchased one of those singing fish plaques absolutely convinced that it was a good gift. I remember thinking he was nuts. Sure enough, when we get to Ireland, she pushes the button to hear it sing and absolutely wails with laughter when the fish pops its head out. (My mom once said she has no clue where my laugh came from. I'm convinced it's from Grandma Tierney with a healthy dose of my adoptive neighbor's grandma, Trudy.) But the most hilarious part: baby Lanie was NOT a fan of Mr. Singing Fish. The moment the fish turned to look at you, the moment my grandma found so incredibly hilarious, was also the moment little Lanie found absolutely mortifying. Yet my grandmother thought it'd be fun to keep playing it to cheer her up even though it was the exact thing upsetting her. To the father who has spent WAY too much time in hospitals this past year:
Thank you for running down to DC for my second week of treatment when mom had to go back home so I never had to be alone. And thanks for bringing Lanie because you knew she'd make me smile. (Thank you, Sean for bringing Lanie back to Philly when they got in a crash on the drive home!) Thank you for taking me to treatments and appointments over and over and over again. Thank you for bringing me for food and milkshakes at the Philly Diner every time I felt like eating after appointments, knowing I might not feel like eating again for awhile. Thanks for meeting me in Philly when I got sick at Lanie's during an "off" week from treatment and waiting patiently by my side in the hospital until things calmed down enough to bring me home. Thanks for running back and forth from the clinic to the pharmacy a gazillion times making sure my medications were correct. Thanks for playing cards with me when I was really down in the dumps. (He hates cards.) Thanks for hating that nurse as much as I did that accessed my port without numbing cream. And thanks for talking with the oncologists about books and rowing and everything in between. They thought you were "endearing" and "cute" (their words, not mine), and I'm convinced it made me a more tolerable patient for them to handle. Happy (belated) Father's Day! (Sorry this one was so crappy.) I love you!!
I just want to start by saying how thankful I am for my mom. Especially since the diagnosis. Thinking back on everything that has happened, she's been a strong and steady force for me and my family. I don't know how I would handle a child having cancer, but she's been pretty freaking awesome. Handled everything like a pro. She came to live with and take care of me before I was even diagnosed because I was freaking out. She asked all the right questions that I didn't even think of during appointments. She googled everything so I didn't have to (and because I refused to). She advocated for me and yelled at the GU hospital staff for bring me no food and then cold food. Then she made more delicious food for me to eat instead. She buzzed my hair when it became too physically painful to handle and too emotionally painful to watch fall out. She hid all of my shampoo, conditioner, and hair ties for me when I became bitter. She sat with me in bed and let me cry my eyes out when I was completely spent from treatments and felt like I'd never ever be healthy again. And most importantly, she can now laugh at my cancer jokes. Because it's crazy and you have to laugh about it sometimes. Hopefully, as time goes on, we'll be able to laugh at more and more of it. I love you, mom! Thank you just isn't enough!!
I cried pretty hard writing that and reflecting on everything that's happened and how awesome my family has been. I decided to get all the tears out of the way and wrote my dad's father's day post at the same time. Because why cry twice when you can get it all out at once? So there's that to look forward to. While writing this post, Jeremiah asks me to help him. From the other room, I hear "Emma! Help! I wanna try something stupid!" (aka a handstand push-up). I walk into his room and he asks me if I was crying. I burst into tears again and say, "MY PARENTS ARE JUST SO GREAT!" Bet he's so happy he decided to live with me.
I went home the other weekend for Mother's Day and to watch Lanie race at Dad Vails. While cycling from her apartment to the course, I spotted one of my old coaches. I was rushing to watch a race, but texted her afterwards to see if she had a spare moment to catch up. She is also a cancer survivor. It was super awesome being able talk about stupid cancer things and serious cancer things. She gave me some great advice, and we laughed about the short, poofy hair life. I told her about my interaction with a cashier at the grocery store. She was very friendly and had short hair, but not quite as short as mine. She smiled and looked at me. You could tell she wanted to say something, hesitated, then just went for it. She said, "My husband would never let me cut my hair that short." In just a few milliseconds, my thoughts went as follows: 1. "Chemo tends to work pretty well." 2. "It sounds like you have a shitty husband." 3. No, Emma. Just smile and laugh uncomfortably. She didn't mean any harm. Stand down. Funnily enough, the same thing happened again just a few days ago. Unfortunately, the security guard lady didn't get off as easily as the cashier. When you walk into the Georgetown Library, you have to show your student ID. Well, in my photo, I have really long hair. I walk into the library and flash my ID. The security guard says, "You cut off all that hair?" Mind you, I've walked into the library almost every day for 2 weeks at this point with the same hair and the same photo ID. I turn around, look her dead in the eye, and say, " I had cancer." She says "Oh" and probably something semi-comforting that wasn't worth remembering. I shrug my shoulders and walk away. Sorry, not sorry. What can I say? Some days I'm bitter, some days I'm not.
On a lighter note, I went to the Greek Festival today! Twas a delicious time. Jeremiah, Ella, and I toured an Orthodox Greek cathedral and ate gyros and Greek pastries until we were stuffed. All of the nice photos are taken by Jeremiah. All the crappy ones are mine. I'll let you decide what's crappy and what's not.
I just started a job this past week at the Georgetown Bioethics Library and it's awesome! My bosses are so nice! It's not super busy in the summer (only 6ish people have come in each day), so I mostly just tell tourists who come in to take pictures to be quiet. It's a BEAUTIFUL but small library in Healy Hall (the fancy looking main building featured at the top of this blog page that everyone takes pics of when they visit Georgetown).
Rowing has been fun! I started seeing a PT who informed me that my recovery time is still going to be really slow up through 6 months post-chemo, so I'm being smart by only rowing every other day max. After 6 months (which is coming up at the end of June!), I should start returning to more normal recovery times. I've had some pain, but also some days where I felt like I could've done 2 practices in a row. Don't worry. I didn't. I've also had a couple days where I've crashed pretty hard and needed to get 10+ hours of sleep to recover. But overall, things are going great! There was a girl visiting DC and checking out Potomac Boat Club who I got to row with. And get this...I bowed for the first time post-cancer! Certainly wasn't perfect and she was very patient as the boat wobbled and I looked around. We weren't fast, but it was enjoyable. Check out me getting too much reach at the catch and not having consistent direct catches...working on it...
It's official. I'm back in the DMV area! I couldn't have done it without all the support from my family and friends...so thanks. Like a lot. Really. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! I don't know if I'll ever be able to express how thankful I am. Bread: Both my sourdough starters were failures, so I'm going to have to try that again in my new apartment. Work: I'm still working for the publishing company, but remotely now. Currently have some leads for other jobs in the area so *fingers crossed* one of them pans out. Rowing: I'm rowing for Potomac Scullers now part-time. I'm attempting to row 2-3 days per week and cross train 3 days per week. Let me tell you how AWESOME it is to be in a boat again. I've always liked rowing, but I don't think I've ever gotten as much enjoyment out of it as I am right now. I thought I was going to be very frustrated, but that's not the case (so far). I've been rowing mostly stroke of a double with R. Sometimes, I feel uncomfortable rowing with other people because it feels like they'd just rather be in single than stuck with me. Because of my fitness level, I was even more concerned than normal that anybody rowing with me would feel that way. But R has been super nice and we've taken some good strokes together. And some bad ones. We're by no means perfect, but it's definitely been very enjoyable being in a boat with her! She won the club single at Head of the Charles a couple years ago but work has taken precedence for her recently and is working on getting back in shape. So I think we're on the same page training-wise, and I can definitely learn a lot from her in terms of moving a boat. She might switch over to sweeping at the end of the summer, but I'll gladly take advantage of her being my boatmate in the meantime! Potomac is also in the process of one coach leaving and another coming in (hmmmm sound familiar? Same situation as last time I moved to the DC area. I think I might be a bad omen...). I've been out with the old coach and new ones, and all of them have been great! I feel like I'm getting some good work in and a lot of feedback. I'm having a little bit of back pain. My usual upper back pain, but also a new lower back pain. I need to work a lot on getting my flexibility and core strength back before I can handle rowing 2 days in a row. I have a physical therapy evaluation next week, so hopefully some good old PT will help me get back on my feet (or...butt?). In light of needing to get swol, I did a circuit with my roomie today on his request. May I mention that I whopped his ass. Please and thank you, not to shabby for a cancer girl. Hopefully circuit training will become a part our new weekend routine. Roomie and adventures: My roommate is a friend of one of my old college roomies. So far he's pretty mediocre. Here are some photos of our recent adventures: Also, in light of my post-chemo tummy issues, my mom found a dietitian during a fair thingy at Penn who is willing to do a phone appointment with me next week. Hopefully she'll be able to shed some light on my milk issues (I'm drinking A2 milk, which seems to settle pretty well) and help guide me as my body heals and I start exercising more.
Peace out cub scouts. Love you all. <3
See, I only made you wait 2 days for another post. Not too bad.
A few weeks ago, one of the instructors from the Y's Livestrong class and I were asked to speak about our experiences in the program for the Annual Campaign kickoff. I gladly said yes as the program has been amazing, and I probably wouldn't have participated had it not been for the campaign's funds. I felt the least I could do was give a speech. I'm set to speak at 6:30pm, an hour or so after the start of the meeting, since I have to work that day. In my head, the YMCA gymnasium is going to be full of people. I have my speech all prepared on some notebook paper. I eagerly accepted the opportunity to commence my up-and-coming stand-up comedy career. I ask the front desk lady where the meeting is taking place. She directs me to a room with about 15 people sitting down at tables. Everybody in the room is going around telling their "Y Story". I ditch the paper and tell my sob story instead, followed by many post-meeting "Thank-you-for-telling-your-story"s. But I just kept thinking about how this glorious speech would go to waste. So instead, you all get to read it. It's a little rough around the edges with lots of redundant information you already know if you've been reading my posts, but here goes: Speech *Imagine a room full of hundreds of people chanting "speech, speech, speech. with the same enthusiasm that Trump supporters chant "build that wall". Because in my head, that's how this whole thing was going to go down. I'm a little nervous to speak to you all today. [From sentence #1, you can already tell this speech isn't going to work. Nobody gets nervous to talk at a round table discussion with only a few people.] You know how you're supposed to picture people in their underwear when giving a speech. Well I'm gonna just picture everyone bald instead. Because cancer. Although, I do admit cancer makes you fearless in some ways. For example, yesterday during Livestrong class, I got my period. Instead of running to the bathroom with tampons and pads in tow, I just let it happen. I figured if it started to show through my pants, it'd be a nice change having people stare at my butt instead of my bald head. Nobody told me what to talk about so... Who likes chocolate? Show of hands, who prefers dark? Milk? I used to be a milk chocolate person, but then it started "not agreeing" with me. And I LOVE anything with milk. I have this friend who doesn't drink it because she's like, *whining* "It makes me break out." Does anybody have a friend like that? A friend who's like, *whining again* "I don't eat gluten." Not because they actually have celiac disease but because they think it makes their finger twitch and their nose turn blue. Now, whenever I hear someone say they don't eat a certain food for a stupid reason, I just say really nonchalantly, "Oh yeah, I get that. I don't drink milk because my stomach got messed up from chemo because I had cancer and it makes me poop my pants 25 times per day...because I had cancer." Come on...when you've had or have cancer, you have to make it fun in some way. But Livestrong has given me a way to bond with other people who've experienced the same struggles that I have. They get that there are days when all you can eat are pretzels and chicken broth. And they get that cancer flips your life upside down. I'm the middle child in my family (aka, the problem child). At the ripe age of 24, my parent's were pretty thrilled that I'd finally gained financial independence. I was getting paid to do research and go to grad school. Three days into classes, I found a lump on my neck. And only a couple months later, I was Tinder's most eligible bachelorette: age 24, living with my parents, unemployed, and bald. Even during treatment, I was itching to get back to exercising. Pre-diagnosis, I was a rower doing two-a-days, 6 days per week. During treatment, I'd steal guest passes from my neighbor when I was feeling well enough. My mom spotted a flier at the Y for Livestrong and just days before my last treatment, I met Cathi [one of the Livestrong instructors] at a Body Pump class. Now I get to see Cathi and Barry every Monday and Wednesday afternoon. They complement each other so well -- a personal trainer and a survivor. While I'm not where I want to be physically right now, I've seen incredible improvements since I started in January and am headed in the right direction. I couldn't have done it without the rest of my cancer club and financial support from the Y. So thank you. *thunderous applause*
The Y also interviewed and featured me in their newsletter a few weeks before they asked me to give a speech. I think they picked me because I'm not a regular cancer patient, I'm a cool cancer patient. Jk, it's probably because I'm a millennial. But they've been nice to me, so I'll gladly be their poster child.
Other life events
I got to chat on the phone with my old OKC teammate which was AWESOME. The last time we spoke was Canadian Henley last year, so it was very nice to catch up. Wishing her and all the peeps at OKC and PBC luck tomorrow as they head into Senior Trials! In other rowing related news...Lanie was invited to Lightweight U23 quad selection camp! If you hadn't already heard the news from me, you probably heard from my dad. He's been bragging about her non-stop since he found out. Lanie, good job. I'm very proud. But I'd also be proud if your 2k PR was a 10:14. Dad, just remember...I beat cancer. Be proud of me too. #MiddleChildSyndrome Jk, Dad. I know you're just excited for our Little Lanie Lou. I am too! Regarding bread baking adventures, I'm attempting sourdough now. I tried making 2 starters (one quick starter and one natural starter) the other day. The quick starter quickly failed. The bread was so bad that I threw it out. Now I'm waiting another 3ish days for my natural sourdough starter to finish starting...or whatever it does. Will keep you posted... My mom mentioned that I haven't written on my blog in awhile. But I don't feel like writing a full post yet. Just know that everything's hunky-dory. In the meantime, please enjoy this video of little Willow from dog sitting awhile back. While on a walk with a dog I was dogsitting, this man on a bike shouts, "ON YOUR LEFT, SIR!" Made me sad. I then realize I have a dog and he doesn't. Makes me vengefully happy. Man proceeds to dismount his bike when confronted with a tiny hill, not even attempting to bike up it. All I can think about is how this poor man confronts life's other difficult situations, I don't know. Anywho, it's been a busy couple weeks for me! And I say that in the best way possible! Last week my bud, Mary, had surgery and needed someone to watch Queen Grandma Hazel and Baby Willow the Weenie. This was immediately followed by another dogsitting job with the Goodest Girl in the Whole Wide World, Josie. Needless to say, it's been a good week. Mary's surgery went smoothly and is back home recouping like the beast she is! Read all about it here. It's a good one! But then again, is she capable of writing a bad post? Probs not. While I didn't get a crazy, new, innovative surgery due to a spinal cord injury, I found this post particularly relatable as she wrote about Mommies giving blood thinner injections and asking good questions and awesome docs and self-advocacy. Did I mention self-advocacy? Self-advocacy. Been thinking about self-advocacy a lot as a friend's fiancé was diagnosed right after I finished my last treatment. These people invited me to an Israel birthday party in college my freshman year and were involved in Challah for Hunger, a charity that sells bread to raise money to combat student hunger. I was a frequent customer because if you didn't know, I love bread. Anywho, this poor couple has been having a rough time. His stomach hasn't been handling treatments very well and they had to return to the ER several times because of stomach pain. Let me clarify something. They went to the ER. Were discharged. Then went back to the ER. Then were discharged again. Then went back. All in the course of a day. Turns out his tummy wasn't just hurting. He had an infection. They knew something was up and were persistent. I can't imagine how frustrating that must've been. Well...maybe I can a little... But like I said, you learn about self-advocacy big time through big medical issues. So please be thinking of this wonderful couple as he heads into his second to last treatment! Sending lots of love their way! Updates: As of now, I am not eating dairy. And I haven't had diarrhea for a couple weeks. So I'm not saying those two things are related because I'm really hoping they're not. But I've been doing well living my almond-cashew-pea protein milk life! My stomach has mostly calmed down. DEFINITELY eating a lot better. I am working part-time for a boat club and a small publishing company. I have an apartment all set up in Arlington. My roomie is already there, and I move in *fingers crossed* after Easter. Livestrong: My mom and I volunteered at this XC race in a very muddy field in the hills of southern Chester County the other weekend. We worked registration and right next to the registration tent was a Livestrong tent. While I went to the port-a-potty to pee, my sneaky sneak mom struck up a conversation with the people at the yellow tent. The lady at the tent is a survivor. While she was talking about how many treatments she had, I turned to my mom and saw her eyes start to well up as I felt a lump at the top of my throat. I think hearing how many years of treatment she has had to go through (and I'm pretty sure is still going through) carried a different weight than it would've six months ago. My mom and I both know how much I struggled with just four treatments. And I can't imagine having even one more than that. I finally decided to tell her how much I'm loving the Livestrong program at the Y, revealing I'm part of the cancer club too. I'm so glad I did. We exchanged funny appointment stories. I shared how I would get asked the name of my child since I was assumed to be the mom of a patient. Meanwhile, she would bring her mom to appointments with her and the doc would address her mom as a patient. She also told me about this really cool organization called First Descents which helps connect the young people's cancer community via outdoor adventure. There's a variety of trips: local, domestic, and international. She went rock climbing in Colorado. How cool is that?! I'm definitely going to apply. To echo Mary's blog post, thank goodness for moms. Hilarious and random anecdote: If you haven't noticed, I have a "CONTACT" heading under "ABOUT" at the top of my website. Why do you ask? Oh, I'm not really sure. But right now, I'm so thankful that I put it there. I guess having cancer has increased my blog's traffic just enough so that on occasion random people miiiiiight stumble upon it. Well. This person filled out my contact form. I won't reveal his name (1) because I don't know them and don't want to get sued and (2) because I'm about to make fun of them. We will call them B. I'll let you read B's message for yourself: Funny part is I was just hired in a "design" capacity for this small publishing company. Not that I think that my graphic design is particularly good in general or specifically on this website. I do post a fair number of poorly executed photographs. Not to mention, I cannot for the life of me figure out how to change the color of my name on the homepage. Things B might know how to do. Let's move on to the part about advertisements. Maybe he thinks that since he stumbled upon this blog, it gets enough traffic to attract advertisers. I can assure you, it does not. I also like how he asks what kind of work I need on a "regular basis." Dude. I don't have the motivation to post on a regular basis with my heaps of free time. So to answer your question: on a regular basis, I actually need nothing. But now that you mention it, I'd love to see your portfolio. Just for funsies. Also, let's just take a moment and think about this. B obviously does not read my posts. If he did, he'd know that I'm a grad school drop out, living with my parents, and have no money. The steady income went out the door when the diagnosis arrived. He'd also know that I'd make fun of him in a blog post if he read my blog.
B was very polite in his inquiry, so feel free to think I'm a terrible person because I'm making fun of him. If you're B, don't feel bad. I'm actually very impressed with your ability to reach out to random people on the internet with confidence in search of a job. That takes gumption. And if this was a money making giant of a website, I would definitely consider hiring you for your ever so appealing "fixed monthly fee." I hope you found a client who won't roast you on their blog. Love, Emma. First of all HAPPY THON to everyone at Penn State this weekend! Dance yo little booties off! If you don't already know, Penn State THON is the largest student run philanthropy in the world benefiting families affected by pediatric cancer. A year's worth of competitive fundraising among Penn State clubs and organizations culminates this weekend in a big dance marathon. Go check out their website! It's a great cause! Second of all, it has been way too long, my peeps! My bad. Let's back up a bit. In mid January, I met with the hematologist who was treating my blood clot. No more blood clot! However, I was originally prescribed blood thinners for a 3 month period ending on February 15th. So they wanted to continue the meds for the prescribed period of time just to be safe, but I was no longer down with the injections and all the bruising that came with them. Long story short: they were able to switch me to an oral blood thinner which I was going to start after getting my port out. The next day, my dad and I met with a doctor at Penn about getting my port removed. The CHOP anesthesiologists would not treat me since I'm technically an adult. My dad and I thought we were lost when we arrived on the whatever floor of the something building because there were signs indicating it was the gynecology and breast cancer floor, and the doc I was meeting with treats people who have pancreatic cancers. Anywho, we were in the right place and were seen right away which was a nice change from the typical all day appointments at Georgetown and CHOP. The doc said that he didn't expect any issues with removing it but had to meet me before scheduling the surgery because my port was inserted at Georgetown. He suggested the following Friday. In unison, I responded "How about tomorrow?" as my dad said, "how about today?" Thanks for having my back daddy-o. I was SO SICK of that port. Typically you can get them removed immediately after you last cycle and scans. About a month had already passed since I had my final scans. Patience is a virtue I do not possess. The doc's scheduler/insurance magician was awesome and able to squeeze us in first thing the next morning! Yay!! The next day, my dad and I go in for the port removal. I remember it being pretty uncomfortable getting it inserted because they don't put you to sleep. During insertion, I was awake the whole time. They just give you some local anesthesia and anxiety meds so you don't freak out while they cut you open. About 15 seconds in to the port removal procedure, I just start crying. The doc and anesthesiologist ask if I'm ok, and I shake my head no. They ask if I'm in pain, and I nod yes. They must've shot me up with a lot more drugs right then because I don't remember anything after that. Beforehand, the anesthesiologist and I bonded over how she did her residency in Georgetown, and afterwards, she wouldn't even look me in the eye. Oops. But it's OUT!! Yay!! About a week later, I started getting really sick to my stomach and having diarrhea. History taught me that calling the doc office for diarrhea and stomach pain wasn't very helpful. I got through about a week and a half of peeing out of my butt hole before I finally broke down and emailed my oncologist and scheduled a GI appointment. I stopped my blood thinner and switched to a strictly pretzels boiled chicken, and wint-o-green Lifesavers diet. Things improved enough for me to go to Penn State for a weekend escape with some friends. It was supposed to be a XC skiing trip, but there was no snow. We hiked Mount Nittany with Livesavers and pretzels in tow. I got a little sick during the day. My friends were very understanding when I had to take a nap. Then they even suggested we order in food instead of going out just so I would be more comfortable. Have I mentioned I have great friends? Luckily, I was able to pull it together to hit up some of our old favorite spots: Cafe 210, the Phyrst, and Champs. We danced, played pool, and I ordered ginger ale or water at every bar we went to. Went the whole night without issues! I ran into some old teammates from crew and gymnastics club which was awesome! My friends were super jelly they don't know people still in school. As the night progressed, I got hot and decided to take off my hat. I rocked the full on bald/peach fuzz look. Let me tell you...drunk people are not subtle. You know when you see a cute guy at the bar and you whisper in your friend's ear to look behind them but be cool about it. And then they do this. Well I was getting a lot of those subtle looks that night. I'm just gonna pretend it's because they're admiring how nicely my eyebrows and eyelashes are growing in. Which, may I mention, is a very itchy process! My eyelashes are at about half length, so I was able to goop on some mascara without it just emphasizing how few eyelashes I have like that last time I tried going out with Mal and Zach in Philly. Twas a lovely weekend! Now I'm back home and have started working! I'm coaching rowing a few days a week at my sister's old boat club which has been awesome! They've been very understanding as I try to resolve these last tummy issues which seem to come and go as they please. And the kids are so kind and disciplined. Very, very impressed. I'm switching to an inhaled antibiotic instead of the pill I'm taking now which can be harsh on the stomach. However, I have to go in to Philly to get the inhaled version. I can't just take it at home. But if it stops the tummy pain and liquid coming out of the wrong places, then I'm totally down! The words "lactose intolerance" have been tossed around as well. Not cool. I've been avoiding milk which has helped a bit. Cancer is actually the devil if it means I can't ever drink milk again as I probably got 40% of my calories and 80% of my protein from that stuff pre-cancer. Still not convinced the lack of milk in my life is a permanent thing though. During our Penn State getaway, me friends mentioned how crazy it is that even post treatment, I'm still dealing with side effects and "cancer crap" as I like to call it. One of the most scaring moments of my life happened post treatment, just the other week: having to collect my poop in a container and scoop it into little vials to be sent away for testing. They came back negative by the way. So still no consensus on what's causing the tum tum to revolt. Let me just say, life right now is a lot better than during treatment, but I am very thankful that Ron, my Gtown adviser, convinced me from the beginning that taking the full year off instead of just a semester was the best course of action. The other day, I got a letter from the PA DMV saying my license needs to be renewed soon. I sent in my renewal paperwork for my last licence before my 21st birthday, so it's still vertical. I finally get one of those fancy, big girl, horizontal licenses! I was so excited for about 30 second. Then I realized that renewing my license means taking a new photo. A nice, new, bald photo. Boo. I'm actually very proud of my current license photo. It's probably the best photo I have of myself. I'm not a particularly photogenic person, but this is a great photo, is it not?! Oh well. My mom suggested I just "lose" my license in a couple years. I might just do that.
Cancer lesson by Emma: A big thing I learned during this whole process is not to compare your struggle with others. I'd be struggling with chemo and side effects and then think about how I shouldn't be mopey just because there were other people in that hospital who were struggling more. I was talking with one of my Livestrong friends and telling her about how mine was "only stage 2" and how I was "lucky" and all that other bullshit that you tell yourself. Then she pipes up and says, "Well mine was stage 0! I didn't even know there was a stage 0 until the doctor told me that!" I found myself immediately consoling her and telling her that it doesn't matter what stage it is. It's hard in it's own right. All this stuff that I should've been telling myself as well. Just because someone else is going through something difficult doesn't mean that your own struggle isn't also difficult. She had breast cancer, had surgery, and is now struggling with chest tightness and all the other crap that came along with that terrible experience that I did not have to go through. Then she went on to tell me how my situation was particularly upsetting because I'm so young. To which I responded, whether you're 8 or 80, it's hard! I think there's this expectation that you're "supposed" to get cancer when you get older. Nobody is supposed to get cancer... Unfortunately, a few people have told me or my parents that they've found this blog "helpful." All I can say is, if you're one of those people, I'm so, SOOO sorry. Some people have started reading this blog as an Emma T cheerleader and ended up reading it as a patient themselves or a close family member of a patient. Soon after I finished treatment, a friend contacted me telling me her significant other just got diagnosed. She called the DAY AFTER their FIRST oncology appointment. I was a MESS after that appointment. I was impressed how together she was, to which she was responded, "I'm just trying to be strong for [name]." It makes me think about when I got that phone call with my diagnosis. I balled my eyes out and my mom just calmly hugged me and spoke to the doc for me. I don't know what I would've done without my family being there for me during this whole ordeal. Yes, I can vouch for how difficult and terrible treatment is. But also realize that the caretaker's job is freaking HARD! It's ok to be sad or pissed or both. I asked this one nurse I had why she liked working with kids. She responded that they bounce back so quickly and don't complain as much as adults. I got kind of annoyed. Yes, kids are AMAZING like that, and yes, it's impressive, and yes, pediatric cancer is a TERRIBLE thing. Like I said. Every struggle is valid. But also...I didn't complain to nurses (because I have a blog to complain...totally kidding...sort of...) because my parents took on that burden for me. The kid doesn't have to spend 3 hours on the phone trying to get a medication approved by insurance or schedule appointments or manage their medications. Those roles usually fall to the caretaker. Or in adult patients who don't have a 24 hour caretaker, the actual patients themselves who do have to advocate for themselves. So moral of the story: during this THON weekend, please play with all of the kiddies and let them escape the terribleness that is treatment. But also, for me, give a parent a hug and chat them up for a bit. I'm sure they'll appreciate talking to someone who isn't a doctor or a nurse. They'll try to tell you that their struggle isn't as difficult as their child's. You tell them that every struggle is difficult. |
AuthorI'm Emma. I love food more than anyone will ever understand - specifically cheese, chocolate, bread and pretty much every fat & carb combo you can think of - apple cider donuts, ice cream, the list goes on. Fats and carbs just go so well together. Don't you think? Why is it that when I'm tasked to describe myself, I always talk about food? Anywho, I'm a grad student and rower training studying and training in DC. Here's to having no free time and loving every minute of it (jk...I'll tell you the bad stuff too)! Archives
July 2020
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