A Post Written at the Beach
It’s been about 2 months since I had a procedure to melt one of my tumors off of my liver. It was successful, yay! The recovery wasn’t super fun but it’s over now & I’m back to living life normally with very infrequent moments of noticing slight discomfort (due to scar tissue that hopefully my body is already breaking down).
It’s great that this was a success. But… it only got rid of about 50% of the tumors I’m carrying around with me. Now the game is waiting to see who grows next. Depending on where they are I’ll get another ablation or, unfortunately, have to go through drug treatment again.
For those of you who were around in 2016-17 you probably don’t need reminding of how weak I got, how weird I looked- with my swollen face and eyes that didn’t work and cradling my 64oz Hydroflask at all times. And for those of you who’ve met me since, I’m glad you didn’t have to see that chapter. When I did that first treatment it was supposed to be “easy” on me, I was expected to be able to continue working and living life like normal during the year long drug trial. But my first dose turned my immune system in to the Hulk and the side effects kept coming and kept changing and lasted and lasted. The idea that this process might be on the horizon again is very…. frustrating, scary, saddening, and inspiring. It reminds me that I need to stay “healthy” (maintain a weight that works for my body and keep working out), actively work to enjoy myself and to love big and deep and loud.
I’m in Jamaica right now, on another solo trip in a new country. I never imagined this is what I’d be doing in my late 30s but it’s pretty rad, ya know? And who knows what the hell I’ll be doing in my late 40s- how many cancer treatments I’ll have to go through in the next decade, what my daily life look like, who will I love then and will I still be traveling solo? I don’t know, but I know I’m going to do it all with tumors slowly growing in/on my liver and that’s just a fact that I carry with me every day. Living with cancer is weird. But, as I promised my Unlce Mike and my dear friend Ken, I promise to keep going and not let it get me. Time to go swim in the beautiful ocean, with my tumors and also with my joy.
