Fifty Shades of Kevin: A Dramatic Reading

My friends and I have been renting a cabin at Cook Forest in Clarion for the past few summers.  We stay for a long weekend, and get into as much trouble as we possibly can.  The first year we went, I was undergoing immunotherapy treatment for stage 3 melanoma, and I was shocked at how much fun I had despite the side effects.  The fatigue and other symptoms were mostly forgotten, and for the most part I could keep up with the festivities.  This year, we were at it again.  It just so happened that this time around one of our friends brought along a copy of 50 Shades.  Since none of us have age-appropriate maturity levels, we couldn't help but to pass the book around for dramatic readings.  Mine starts off in Standard American i.e. Shakespeare, and quickly deteriorates into a bad Dustin Hoffman from Hook.  Watch my personal interpretation of a passage from the book below.

Bloggers Unite! Post Your URL's Here

So, I just transferred my blog to my Google+ account, which turned out to be a huge pain.  And, in the end, I lost all the blogs I was following.  I'd like to reconnect with all of you, so if you could, please comment with your blog and URL on this post.  I want to bring together a better sense of community to discuss issues in the area of young adult cancer, cancer, and the state of healthcare in general.  Let's all band together, and we can start by following each other and lending our support.

P.S. I feel like this is today's equivalent of dropping my phone in the sink and losing all my contact info.  Oh, first-world problems.  Even so, I think good things could come from it, including a better sense of togetherness.

We can do it, just like some kind of weird elephant orgy.  

Photo Credits: Top -- Joris Louwes via Flickr; Bottom -- Robbert van der Steeg via Flickr

Holiday Cheer, With A Little Death Mixed In

I realize I would have thrown up this morning, had I let myself.  This morning, all of last night, and probably all of yesterday had I not been occupying my time playing video games.  My mother came down at eleven to say goodnight.  “Are you going to bed?” she asked.  I told her I would.  “Are you worried?” she asked.  I blew up in her face, because I’d been marathon-ing Skyrim precisely so I wouldn’t have to think about how worried I was.  It was some time before we were able to settle the issue and she went to bed.

This morning was six days after the stuffing, the cranberry sauce, the turkey coma, and the mashed potatoes with the butter poured in the middle to dip in.  Six days after I’d made all the pies: an apple, a pumpkin, an apple dumpling, and a mighty scrumptious pumpkin cheesecake.  I’m still home for the holiday.  My girlfriend left on Sunday, and I wasn’t able to go with her.  We found a mass Wednesday night, just before Thanksgiving.  I had been diagnosed with cancer in 2011 at the age of 25, so I kept my potential recurrence to myself through the holiday, since I’d seen the effects of this kind of news firsthand, and I didn’t want to ruin the festivities for everyone.

This morning was also four days after the champagne toast my mother arranged to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the completion of my cancer treatment.  “What’s the best kind of champagne?” she’d asked me just days before.  “Can you get some cheap?”  I’d learned from a college roommate that Korbel was the best cheap champagne and I told her so.  I immediately knew something was up, because she only asks me questions like that when she’s getting me something.  And I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why she would be getting me champagne.  Cancer was that far from my mind.  Then I found the mass, and I had felt like a fraud, clinking glasses, smiling around the table, knowing full-well that I might once again be actively dying.

No matter the outcome of the poking and prodding that was to come, I was once again faced with the knowledge that I had had cancer, and that I’d had three surgeries and an awful, year-long treatment to prevent it from coming back, all in my mid-twenties.  And that being so young, I had significant reason to think it might rear its ugly head sometime down the long road ahead.

There was a New York Times article about this over the summer.  The quoted findings, from Dr. Alex J. Mitchell at the University of Leicester, stated that 18% of young adults remain severely anxious about their experience with cancer two to ten years after being diagnosed.  In couples, that number rose to 28%, with 40% of spouses reporting above-average levels.  The anxiety is real.  I feel the complete set of fears rise up in my neck, the pain of every hair on my body standing sharply at attention, whenever I think I might have found something suspicious poking out.  And that will never change.  I feel guilty every day because I’m in a happy, healthy relationship with someone I truly care about, and what all this must mean for her.

Studies also suggest the same is true of depression, though I’ve personally avoided the brunt of that.  Aside from a stint with chemical depression induced by my immunotherapy treatment, I’ve been my father’s son -- an unfailing optimist.  When I was first diagnosed, and during the ensuing year of treatment, which some refer to with such cavalier terms as “battle,” “struggle,” or some other equally obnoxious buzzword, I went to therapy regularly to work through a healthy episode of PTSD.  According to a study done by Dr. Mary Rourke at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, I’m not alone there either.  By evaluating one hundred eighty-two survivors of pediatric cancers, she found that 16% had PTSD.  Dr. Rourke concluded that young adult cancer survivors experience more psychological problems than the general population.

It’s no wonder then, sitting over my healthy serving of dark meat, watching my family laugh and drink, watching my girlfriend for any obvious signs of hating my family, that I felt a sense of dread underneath it all.  What if I don’t have many more occasions like this?  No more holidays, no more fun times with the family, no more hoping my girlfriend will get along with the craziest, most inappropriate members of my clan.  Looking around the table at the smiling faces, I asked myself, what if I don’t have any more holidays at all?

This morning I had an ultrasound at the local hospital in town.  My family doctor doesn’t have the little stick thingy or the gel at his office, so they made me wait while the hospital took forever to schedule an appointment for today.  To my (pseudo) relief, the tech didn’t see anything unusual.  My Physician Assistant best friend reminds me that techs are not doctors, and the official results are still pending.  I am not fully relieved, nor will I ever be.

I am now 28 years old, and this is what I’ll be doing for the rest of my life.  I love my family, and my friends, and I hope to have a long, prosperous life in a career that satisfies me, with a partner by my side who complements me and fills me with joy.  There is a dark cloud that lingers above me, threatening to take it all away at a moment’s notice.  I willingly pay it no mind when it’s unreasonable to do so, but that only means that when I have a legitimate scare, it comes back in full force.  It took a long time to come to terms with this pattern, but I realize that it will always be a force in my life.  Only at times like Thanksgiving, when I can sit around a table with the people who are most important, laugh, play games, and drink cheap champagne, that I realize how lucky I am to have had any of it at all.

Another October Down, Yet Cancer's Still Around

Now that another October is in the books, the pink's all been stuffed away and will be gathering dust until fall of next year.  While October's awareness campaigns are important, it's equally important to remember a few key points.

1.) Pinkwashing is still a huge problem.  Make sure to do your homework.  A lot of organizations flash the pink and expect you not to ask questions.  There's a lot of questionable people out there who engage in questionable business practices.  Be careful and pay attention.  Be certain you're donating to a cause, and that the majority of your money is going to said cause, and isn't serving to inflate someone's wallet instead.  This is true of all charitable donations.  Charity Navigator is a great resource that can help you find out which organizations are worthy of your money.  And there are resources available that deal specifically with pinkwashing, like Think Before You Pink.

2.) Even legitimate fundraising attempts don't always target the right areas.  Fighting breast cancer is a great cause, but as others have pointed out, the funds raised in October overwhelmingly go toward funding prevention and treatment for those in low-risk categories, and leave the majority of patients high and dry.  Metastatic disease benefits only marginally from the month's fundraising campaigns, which isn't the most logical, since metastasis is what actually kills people.  

3.) Cancer doesn't end with breast cancer.  Here's a fact that I'll bet most people don't know: lung cancer is the leading cause of cancer deaths in women.  In fact, lung cancer is responsible for the deaths of more women annually than breast cancer, ovarian cancer, and uterine cancer combined.  While I'm happy to report that breast cancer is pulling in tremendous support from all corners, it's upsetting to realize this fact, and even more upsetting to have to point it out.  Cancer really shouldn't be so isolationist.  It's important to create an atmosphere where all of us have the same access to treatment, support, and the benefits of extensive fundraising campaigns.  

Cancer sucks, period.  It destroys lives, rips apart families, and takes people for the proverbial ride.  It's a disgusting truth that there are those in the world who would use it for personal gain.  But it's happening, and awareness months are no exception.  Be vigilant when donating, and know that it's worth the extra fifteen minutes to research the facts behind the cause.  At the very least, look for infographics that provide financial breakdowns like this one from the American Cancer Society.  

Happy donating, and let's kick cancer's ass all year-round.  

Image credits: Middle -- Leading Cause of Cancer Deaths (2007), via Junk Charts; Bottom -- Where Does Your Money Go? via the American Cancer Society.