A sad day for an inspirational person and her friends and family....

I used to like roller coasters, didn't I?

I guess they never quite felt like this. The drops used to be the fun part, and the climbs brought anxiety. Well I've been on a bit of a different ride since we last talked. We all know how the drops feel for me now, and frankly, I'm not interested in explaining where they came from over the last couple weeks. So let's stick with the climbs.

You've already read about the Huck Cancer tournament, but it deserves another shout out for how well it came off. On top of that, another ultimate friend, "Mo Po", has directed his annual March Madness competition to raise even more money for the Huck Cancer team. See? Badgers aren't so bad after all (of course, they're no "Wolverines").

And bike rides? With no flats? You heard me right. I switched my tires to adamantium belted tires and attached a broom to the front of my bike to sweep away glass. Result? 3 rides, 0 flats (and 2 glasses of wine).

I've also taken a step up on the river by paddling the Gorge last week (Cl 3). Thanks to "Savory Em" and "Laura J" for dragging me along. It felt pretty...well...normal, which is about all I could hope for. I wasn't paddling perfectly, but I hit my rolls when I needed them, and that's what I was most worried about.

Of course, the biggest peak in the last few weeks would have to be the latest MRI (taken yesterday). At a minimum, the results looked basically the same as before - no major changes. Extreme optimism could even argue that they looked slightly better than before (though at this point I'd say hold off on the extremism - don't we have enough of that in this world already?) I also found out that there are ways for me to still travel for long periods of time if I want. Good news all around. Of course, part of the good news was that my recent blood tests looked fine - which means it's chemo week starting tonight. So if you don't hear from me in any form for awhile, you know what my excuse will be.

As for the drops these past few weeks, as I mentioned before, I'd just as soon not explain those. But this recent quote sent to me by "Rat" helps me try to keep perspective:

"Some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity...." -Gilda Radner

One of the best days...

...ever! We just had the Huck Cancer Ultimate Frisbee tournament and post-party yesterday and it was AMAZING! Everyone managed to raise an astounding amount of money to fight cancer - over $40,000! The sun dance worked incredibly well and the weather was perfect. Everyone played with the typical Spirit of the Game, and there was a broad range of skill levels from beginners to some of the best players around. The post-game party was also amazing, and brought in a lot of people who weren't able to play earlier. It also gave me a chance to chat with everyone, and once again I felt incredibly lucky to have such wonderful people in my life.

The tournament and post-game party were incredibly well run and organized. I say this with zero ego because, in fact, it was an amazing crew of friends who actually pulled this whole thing together, and I want to give them all the credit they deserve, and then some. In particular, my friends Ali and Renata spent an amazing amount of time setting up this event, and their organizational skills are truly impressive. But there were several other key helpers, and while I hope I don't miss anyone, I want to give them all (somewhat anonymous) credit. You'll know who they are.....

(And the order is relatively random)

My "Freighbor"
Froddo
Adee
Erin
Eddie
The "Kornman" Cam
Seany-B
"H-Lo"
Adrain
Casey
"Savory Em"
"K-Mac"
Apu
Kari
J-Dubya
"The Mayor"
Geoff
The "Pockster"
Zach
The "Ultimate" Joe
Lara
"Kayak Asia"
Teddy
Elizabeth
The "Sexy Librarian"
Henrik

I also want to thank all of the people who came by as volunteers to help run the tournament! Seriously, it was extremely helpful and much appreciated. Now let's keep the momentum going and spread the word for next year! Imagine if an event like this were to spread across the country...we might finally be able to truly "huck" cancer for good.

Overzealous, underwater....

Chemo Week. I started it last Thursday night with the hope of feeling better in time for the Huck Cancer Tournament. Things started out so well. I had some wonderful new tidbits from Joe about how to reduce the amount of extra meds I was taking. My first few days felt better than ever before. My appetite was pretty strong, and I had relatively good energy. I was even being careful and working from home part-time in order to maintain my rest. After the 5 days had passed, I still felt pretty good. Had I figured out the secret?

Nice try. This morning I woke up, and decided I was feeling good enough to pop out of bed and head into work for a full day. One smoothie breakfast later and I was on my way down the highway. As soon as I exited the highway, my body began to revolt. I rushed to the side of the road and...well...let's just say that smoothie tasted way better going down. I ended up heading into work, but suddenly I felt like I'd been tossed into a washing machine, rinse cycle. I pushed myself too hard.

The frustration is really hard to describe. There are certain key parts of my life that are suppressed during Chemo Week. In fact, if I didn't enjoy sleep, for the most part, it would be every key aspect of my life that is suppressed. Work is one of them. It contains part of my identity whether I want it to or not. And when I feel strained from my ability to contribute, it really hurts.

Yes, I do understand what I need to do, I'm just venting from the bottom of the ditch. I mean, really? I need 12 hours of sleep and then naps during the day? For several days? Really? Yes, really.

The "late" latest

Ooops. Sorry. I meant to update about a week ago. See, here's the thing. I start chemo. I nervously start to anticipate my decline, even though I feel perfectly fine the first few days. I feel the slide begin, and my mood shifts. Eventually, I hit bottom, and start thinking about how to describe what the bottom looks like. What it's like to always have fatigue. To gag every time I look at a pill. To not understand if I'm hungry or nauseous. To not really want to chat or e-mail or write. Anyone. Besides, my computer is waaaay up at the top, and I'm still on the bottom. So I take a serious nap. And then another. And another. Then one time, I wake up, and I feel like I have more energy than normal. My lips start quivering with excess energy whenever I talk. My mind starts racing around the inside of my head. And so I leave the house. I go for a hike, a ride, a walk. I try to meet up with all the friends I hadn't seen for the past week. I e-mail way too much. And I forget to keep everyone up to date on my blog....

Quick Update

Got the MRI yesterday, and basically nothing has changed. This time I actually felt relieved. I started the next cycle last night, so I'm trying to exercise as much as possible in the next few days before I fall asleep. That's about all I got for now. Toodle doo!

If you want to send me information....

...this is the kind of stuff I like to see! And it comes with some fun facts!


In the meantime, my next MRI is tomorrow. I'll let you know how that goes.

Game on!

The "Huck Cancer" fundraising tournament AGAINST cancer is now officially on! If you're interested in playing, watching, partying afterwards, or just supporting, check out the following website which has links to all of the necessary locations. The tournament is supporting the Lance Armstrong Foundation, cause after all, he won a sh-t load of Tours de France.....
http://www.huckcancer.org

And a huge hug to all my friends who basically organized this entire event!

Why can't I take advantage of my degree?

I've studied physics for over a decade of my life. My first college class in particular was on "Special Relativity", or the relationship between motion, mass, and time. That theory demonstrates the simple fact that the faster you move, the faster time passes around you (or in other words, you won't age while the rest of the world will). And yet, whenever I'm on chemo, I move much more slowly, yet time seems to fly past me! The evidence is in the phone calls, e-mails, text messages, and work-related requests that I have almost no time or energy to process.

It's been a pretty frustrating week, but I'm now creeping out of it. I had a great New Years weekend up in Yosemite, snowboarding (or, perhaps, snowtripping?) and hiking. Then on Saturday night I began the chemo treatment, and sometime around Wednesday my body began sinking into the molasses dripping from my brain. Today, after lots of extra naps, I'm starting to feel the beginning of normalcy. While I was spending about half my time sleeping this week, I was hopeful that the rest of the world was doing the same. Unfortunately, now I need to somehow catch up. I'm still too tired to run close to the speed of light, so I think I'm just going to have to reset my clock. And everyone else's.

On a rough note, I did check out the blog of a guy I met at my post-radiation MRI. It was pretty disheartening to read that not all of his tumor is being held at bay by the Temodar. He's pretty optimistic as he starts in on a clinical trial that I hope pounds that part of his tumor to pulp. My fingers are crossed for him and his family.

Nuke-u-ler Magnetic Resonance Imaging (aka MRI)

This week I received my first MRI since I started my monthly Temodar cycles. The hope is that the tumor will, at the very least, remain unchanged with each new image. At the very most it will be pounded down into nothingness, never to be seen again. So...what were the results?!?

Well, Round 1 was a draw. However, since I am the current heavyweight champion of my brain, and we all know that "...in the event of a split decision, the victory goes to...", well, you get the point. Of course, in Round 2 I might want to change over to being Rocky....

Wanna know what the MRI's look like? I thought you might.

This is the original MRI before I had surgery. Now look carefully. Can you see the tumor?

This is approximately the same image taken in my most recent MRI. It shows how nicely the tumor spot has filled back in with actual brain material. Or gumballs. Either way, I'll take it.

This is an MRI from October, right before I started my first cycle of chemo. In the red circle you can see a few white spots and a bit of discolored area. The circle is red because those things are evil.

This is an MRI image from my most recent series, also highlighting that same area. Essentially there is almost no difference between the two images, which is considered very good news. Even better news would be if those spots completely disappeared, but I'm trying to teach myself not to count on that. The sizes and positions of the spots might appear slightly different between MRI images, but mainly that's because the cross-sections are about 5 mm apart, so sets of images taken two months apart will never perfectly align.

In the meantime, I'm starting my next cycle tonight, and will be meeting with my 2nd opinion doctor on Monday.

Ding ding....