Progress!

I just have to make note of my Hair Tracker progress. What a difference a month makes. Although Cody has been retired for quite some time, her work is truly done.

Cleaning Cancer Out Of My Apartment: An Initiative

In continuing to make this remission thing more official, I recently un-medicalized my apartment. No government leaflets about "Cancer and Me." No excess pill bottles. No patient binder. What we've affectionately dubbed the Apothecary Table has been eradicated.

Part symbolic measure, part need to clean my dusty apartment, the moment I cleared this table I knew it meant something. In fact, I deemed it so meaningful I decided to put everything back on the table to take a picture so I could share the "before" and "after" with you all. 

And since I am a self-proclaimed pack rat, I didn't feel like I could just throw all this stuff away. It's  been banished to a box simply labeled "DO NOT OPEN." Enough said.

The Cancer Dancer dances on this June!

 
   Join Zephyr Dance for our 20th Anniversary Concert

in the looking

June 24, 25 and 26 at 8:00pm

Epiphany Episcopal Church
201 S. Ashland in Chicago (map)
Tickets are $20 for adults,
$15 for students and seniors
For tickets and information, visit our website. 

...And don't forget to sign our birthday card!

Welcome back...

Behold my calloused, filthy gems:

I've been extra cautious about the welfare of my feet throughout treatment. They've been heavily guarded by the ever-durable Target sock (perfect thickness and warmth for a marley floor) for fear that I'd manage to slice my foot open while doing some treacherous pas de bourrées.

But the weather's getting warmer, and unless I can shuffle around in my dingy old J. Crew flip flops something is truly missing from my spring/summer self. Plus, Zephyr's annual Illinois Wesleyan Tour de Dance Appreciation class is upon us. And my turquoise socks ARE NOT considered nice rehearsal attire in any sense of the word. (Check out the neglected ones heaped in the corner...)

Oh bare feet, I've missed you so very much.

In the name of millimeters...

Four more treatments to go...the end is in sight. Not quite plain view, but that point when you're driving southbound on the Edens and you get that first shadowy glimpse of the Sears Tower. I've certainly taken better care of myself this time around. (Translation: not drinking so much that my veins disappear. Even Chemo Girl gets to have a little fun!)

Another test is upon us. Tomorrow I visit the friendly radiology department at NorthShore for a CT Scan. Though February's PET Scan showed that there is no more abnormal uptake (the cancer is not active/spreading), my lymph nodes were still enlarged. And by enlarged I mean centimeters. These nodes have been seriously cramping my lung capacity's style for far too long, so I'm really excited to see the results of tomorrow's photo shoot.  Not only am I excited, I'm sure that they've shrunk. Considering my sizable knowledge of the medical field,  here are several reasons why I might be the most optimistic (or delusional?) girl you know:

On Monday, I was doing a pretty intense pectoral muscle stretch during rehearsal and discovered that I was able to breathe easily in the position for the first time IN THREE YEARS. The reason that was my first foray into that particular stretch in awhile is because during Zephyr's usual Monday yoga routine I typically feel like falling down. Recently, however, I'd compare my energy level to that of the Grinch when he lifts the sleigh over his head. Serious power! So not only does my strength and energy level continue to dramatically rise, but I actually feel like I can understand the clues my body gives me.

Time to drink a really awful concoction no milkshake will mask in the name of measurement. Millimeters and such....

A Wedding of Wigs and Wicks

So I'm hoping that you are all very slow readers. I've been immersed in wedding hoopla and can't seem to jump back in to writing about cancer. Go figure! But really, who am I helping by looking at the 37th blog filled with inspiration boards and DIY projects for a glamorous backyard shindig?

Last weekend, I was unbelievably thrilled to partake in one of my oldest and dearest friend's wedding. I was super honored that Jessie asked me to be her maid of honor and spent the last nine months obsessively asking how I could help with the planning. So when this business popped up in December, I had plenty of concerns. I wanted to participate in the same capacity but was unsure of how I would feel and (yes, I'll admit it) look. It's a moot point. Who's looking at the maid of honor? Well, I wanted to keep it that way and opted to bring along my new friend Cody for a bit of support.

I will say this: I've worn "Cody" (the blonde-choppy counterpart to my otherwise scantily clad head) maybe 7-8 times, and I still can't decide if I'm sold. For the record, Jerome Krause names their wigs, not me. I'm not sure whether anyone was fooled, but she stayed intact all night. Even through my own personal rendition of "Thriller."

(If it weren't my 4th day after chemo I swear I'd crop out the lower 

right corner of this pic. You get the idea regardless.)

 Bottom line, we all had an amazing and sentimental weekend. Certainly I could have gone without splitting my dress up the back, but I blamed the steroids and some dance floor lunges and moved on. 

In terms of feeling up to the trip, I am positive that the excitement leading up to last weekend helped me fly through the usual chemo side effects. Amidst concerns about my weakened immune system, I was prescribed a 3-day neupogen injection to boost my white count while we navigated one too many germy airports. I was nervous that the brief treatment would be painful, but I made it through with just a bit of jaw pain.

In conclusion, (it feels like time to be conclusive)...

Although this routine is getting pretty old, attending Jessie's wedding/taking a mini-vacation/discussing the sustainability of salt licks(?) in a toast to 120 people briefly made me forget that this business had ever been an issue.

Ripping off the Band-aid

As bewildered as I've been by this whole hair loss/head shaving debacle, it's over. I decided a while ago that sharing this facet of my experience was particularly important. I wonder if I had stumbled across a similar blog posting a few months ago I would have dealt with it differently. Special thanks to Matt's crafty editing work and my fantastic stylist Courtney Engel's serious abilities with clippers. Although it's not featured in this particular video, her work with thinning shears is also incomparable.

An Inspiring Story

This is sportswriter Rick Reilly's tales of spending time with Denver Nugget's coach and current cancer patient George Karl. His treatment sounds much more intense and invasive than mine, and I admire his open attitude and spirit. Thanks for sharing, Matt!

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/news/story?id=4997277

Support the American Cancer Society!

Help our friend Bryan Kappy raise money for the American Cancer Society. He's taken on the unenviable task of running Chicago's annual Shamrock Shuffle. (The sheer thought makes me hyperventilate.) Go Kappy Go!!!

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/DetermiNation/DNFY10Illinois?px=14175880&pg=personal&fr_id=25051&fl=en_US&et=XVj27bXWBgTGUiwvI0fAMA..&s_tafId=469704

The Adventures of Chemo Girl!

Her special power? In moments of sheer exhaustion, Chemo Girl surprises her fiercest foes with sudden bursts of energy: jumping in heels during a rare night out, dancing through the nausea in company class.

Every one of these startling instances is her opportunity to deliver a time bomb to these vicious invaders. Her energetic optimism is just a reminder: your days are numbered, cancer cells.

And she wears a cape.

Stay tuned! Tomorrow Chemo Girl meets her fate at the PET scan...

But I'm a Leo!

...So you can imagine my surprise, bewilderment and confusion when after 26 years of looking to that bold, fierce symbol for any novelty fortune-telling needs my horoscope indicates that my birthday now falls between August 23 and September 22.

Through six months of self-diagnosis, internet "research," useless doctor visits and a skin tone that quickly faded from healthy to ghost-like, cancer never for a second entered my consciousness. Not once. Even as I sat in the hematology lab telling the 85th intern to ask that I DID NOT remember experiencing any fevers recently I was still convinced it was just pneumonia.

The 95% certainty of my doctor that it was Hodgkin's got through to me the next morning. So after a brief three minutes of being scared out of my mind I started fighting cancer.

Because my birthday is July 30.

The idea to post "The Cancer Dancer" came to me not long after receiving that life-altering information. (Catchy title, inspiring story...read: book and movie deals.) I had immediately considered the implications to my dance career: as an artist, an athlete and as an adult who has to make money. My crazy dance life will be back soon, and this will be the chronicle of how it returns.