What would you like for breakfast today, Johnny? FIYA.

Too soon?

If you haven't already heard, which you probably haven't if you're not a family member, we had a fire in our kitchen on Saturday. This wasn't just your little play fire that you make while cooking flambé; "Ohh mommy, look what I can do!!!" If you didn't catch that MadTV reference, please note that I do not condone children cooking with stoves or ovens, nor do I think children should play with fire. Also, please note that you need to go to Youtube and watch MadTV skits of Stuart immediately. So there I am. It's the afternoon, and I'm sleeping in my parents' bed, because it's warmer, bigger, comfier, and my mom's side of the bed smells like her perfume. I woke up that morning feeling like crap--more on that later--and spent most of the day in bed. All of a sudden, I am woken up by the sound of my mother screaming and then I heard Peanut bark in what seemed like a reaction to my mother yelling, "Nooo!!" To be honest, I thought Peanut was running around, bit onto the bottom of the Christmas tree, and pulled it over, as she tends to misbehave ALL THE TIME/my mom has a tendency to freak out over small things. But then, 0.5 seconds later, I hear this incredibly loud, odd sound. It was almost as if someone took a large bucket of thousands of marbles and dumped them onto a tile floor. I immediately knew something was wrong, so I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. I saw the entire area above the kitchen sink up in flames--it caught me so off guard that I couldn't even think enough to use profanity, which is always my first reaction to pretty much anything that occurs in my life. Well, I guess you could say, I immediately went into panic mode. I couldn't tell you for sure what my mom was screaming, but I'm guessing it was something along the lines of, "FIREEEEE!! FIREEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!" I quickly realized that my younger brother, Mikey, was also sleeping, so I started screaming, "MIKEYYYY!!!!" to make sure that he woke up. So, together, my mom and I probably sounded something like, "FIKKEEYYY!!!!" or "MIIIRRRREEEE" which would explain why it took so long (4 seconds instead of my 2) for Mikey to come out of his room. He probably woke up and laid in bed thinking my mom and I were having an argument in gibberish, as we are wont to do in our spare time. Finally, Mikey ran out of his room shirtless and very obviously shaken up. Later that day, he told me he thought someone got murdered. I bet you were sitting there thinking, "Man, there is NOTHING worse than a home fire!" Uhhh, well, you're wrong. MURDER is worse than a fire. So, I can understand Mikey's shocked and confused face when he ran out of his room. Back to the fire. Okay, so Mikey is shirtless, I'm standing on the stairs right next to the kitchen, and my mom yells, "GET OUT!!!" I sprint to the living room to grab Peanut and turn around to run outside through the garage. In hindsight, the safest way to exit my house from the living room was probably the front door, but I panicked and MY KITCHEN WAS ON FIRE. As I'm running out of the house with Peanut in my arms and Mikey (still shirtless) in front of me, my dad runs into the kitchen from the garage, which are right next to each other, with what I'm guessing was a towel. He runs over to the sink and pulls down the rod that is holding the curtains that are on fire and immediately starts stomping out the fire (with his hand, so technically no stomping occurred). This method definitely would not put out the size of the fire, but it did stall the fire until my mom could get the fire extinguisher from the closet in the laundry room. At this point, Mikey and I were standing on the driveway, him shirtless, I wearing basketball shorts, both of us shoeless, and Mikey was on the phone with 911. I could hear my mom in the background also on the phone with 911. My dad now had the fire extinguisher in his hands. He pulled the pen, and tried to extinguish, but nothing was happening. He shook it, tried spraying and BOOM it was working. He sprayed it everywhere and the fire was finally out. In reality, the whole thing probably occurred in less than a minute, but when the firefighters come to your elementary school and tell you that fire spreads very quickly THEY'RE NOT MAKING IT MORE DRAMATIC TO KEEP YOUR ATTENTION. Another several seconds and I think the fire would have spread upstairs. After my dad put the fire out, we were advised over the phone to not enter back into the house, so Mikey, Peanut, and I went to our neighbors house. I hadn't been inside this neighbor's house since I was oh...I don't know...maybe 11? And I wasn't wearing my glasses or contacts, so I couldn't see anything. The same goes for Mikey. Not only did we look ridiculous in our firefighting outfits of bball shorts and flip flops, we also squinted at people who spoke to us at a foot's distance. Thankfully, our neighbors are incredibly nice and they gave us socks and blankets to warm up. They also didn't judge or make fun of us--at least to our face--and for that I am eternally grateful. Eventually, the several firetrucks and several Fire Chief SUVs realized that maybe they overestimated the backup they would need, especially after they showed up and there was no fire. I'm glad they overestimated and didn't underestimate though....that wouldn't have been good. So everybody leaves and I go back into the house and everything is okay, but we're all shaken up. Except for Peanut. She still wants to jump around and bite everyone's hand. Ya gotta hand it to her though, she really knows how to keep a positive attitude in tough situations.

Here is a picture of some of the damage:

Oh boy, whatta Saturday afternoon. OH WAIT. I forgot. The day gets better! Several hours after the fire, I'm woken up by my dad so he can check my temperature. Lucky me, it's 101.5˚F, and at the beginning of chemotherapy treatment my oncologist told me that if my WBC count is low and I have a temperature above 100.4˚F, I need to go the ER. Guess what my last blood work showed. A WBC COUNT OF 2.1 (this is low). Here I come, ER!!! But oh no, the fun didn't stop there. The doctor needed to check a urine sample, and OF COURSE I walked out of the bathroom with my cup of pee and backless hospital gown to find an old friend that I haven't seen in years who now apparently works in the hospital. You could say she was smiling because she was happy to see me, but I'm pretty sure she was stifling laughter at how ridiculous the situation was. Not to mention, there was a patient hopped up on Bath Salts directly behind us screaming, "YOU BITCH, GET OUT!!!" over and over again. It was the most spectacular of reunions. Hours later all of the test results came back and everything looked okay and my WBC count had gone back up to a safe level, so the fever was not reason enough for hospital admission. 

This would be the part of the blog where I post a picture of the patient that overdosed on Bath Salts, but we all know you shouldn't take pictures of strangers #rude. JUST KIDDING, IT'S COMPLETELY NOT OKAY TO TAKE A PICTURE OF A PATIENT THAT DOES NOT CONSENT TO HAVING THEIR PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN, NOR SHOULD CONSENT WHILE UNDER THE INFLUENCE COUNT AS ACTUAL CONSENT. Children who read my blog, it is best to just never take a photo in a hospital unless it's a close up selfie of your unibrow or something.

Well, in other (small) news. I'M IN REMISSION. As you may have read in my last post, my last day of treatment was December 31, 2013. You may be wondering why it took me so long to write an entry talking about the most exciting part of my journey...well, I was waiting for the fire. I just don't like to leave you guys wanting more and nobody likes reading a success story. Okay, New Year's Eve night. I got to have a big glass of wine with my family at my aunt's house during her annual New Year's Eve gathering. My uncle purchased this really nice Spanish wine made in a southwestern town in Spain, called Jumilla. It was excellent and probably the best red wine I have ever had. If I ever splurge on a bottle of wine, that will probably be what I buy, but it's safe to say I won't be splurging on a bottle of wine for another 10 years or so and have actually have a decent paycheck. Also, this wine was 15.5% ABV. You can never go wrong with that. At midnight, I also had some champagne. I know I probably shouldn't have, and I probably shouldn't have had as big a glass of wine as I did, but whatever. I'm young. I'll bounce back. I mean, LOOK AT ME NOW. 84 days later and I'm in remission. Can't stop, won't stop.

Annnddddddd, I'm stopping. I hope everyone had a great holiday season and is as excited for 2014 as I am!

Fire? I don't care. I am not leaving this house unless I am physically carried out of here. Yeah, you come back to me after you've spent all day chewing up all the socks and eating your own poop. Shit ain't easy.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas...

I meant to post a blog a long time ago, but I've been very distracted with holiday preparation. And by that I mean, I went to my aunt's house and slept on the couch while everyone else baked Christmas cookies. I swear, once you tell people you're battling cancer they're all like, "Oh, sweetie, please don't strain yourself!" and I'm all, "Oh, my cancer hurts. I shouldn't leave the couch. Would you mind making me hot cocoa?" Okay, let's get this update started...

Last time I wrote, it was before my fourth cycle had started. Now, I'm nearing the end of my fourth and last (hopefully, forever) cycle. Finishing the first week of the cycle was quite the struggle. I only had one week between my previous full week and the fourth cycle's, so there wasn't much recovery time. In other words, the side effects of the chemo had a much greater effect during this week of treatment. Rather than feeling nausea and fatigue set in on Thursday, I felt it on Wednesday. I was noticeably more tired than usual and felt overall more crappy. By Friday, the nausea had gotten pretty bad, BUT it all worked out for the best. I almost vomited in the treatment center and the nurse saw me and talked to my doctor about giving me more anti-nausea medication. SO, I spent the rest of the day and all weekend feeling a lot better. After I finished treatment, my dad brought the car to the door so I wouldn't have to walk to get to it, we high-fived and then I cried pretty much the entire ride home. I was so happy to be done with weeks like that. My family took me out to all-you-can-eat pizza and wings to celebrate! It was embarrassing how much I couldn't eat, but the pizza still tasted great. So I have no regerts. See what I did there?

The following weekend was spectacularly eventful. I went to my aunt's house on Saturday to bake Christmas cookies, and like I said earlier, I put a lot of effort forth in making sure those cookies were baked! My aunt probably won't vouch for the work I did, but that's okay. She's probably bitter because my batches tasted better. On Sunday, two of my friends worked in a visit to my house on their way home for Christmas. I don't get to see them very often, so it was awesome being able to spend an entire day with them. They also bought me a tshirt of a tiger wearing a sweat band that says, "No regrets". It's incredibly fitting, in more ways than one. 

On Monday, I had my second bleomycin day. The appointment was changed to Monday because Tuesday was Christmas Eve and the center wouldn't be open. So Monday was my second to last day of treatment and MY LAST DAY at the Radnor facility. My last day of treatment will be in Center City in Philadelphia because I have an appointment with my surgeon whose office is closer to that facility. My friend, Julie, and my younger brother, Mikey, and my mom came to treatment with me. It went by a lot faster having people to hang out with, not to mention, my friend's mother surprise visited me during treatment. At the end of my treatment I said goodbye to my nurses. That was really hard, because my nurses were awesome. I had a really good relationship with both of them, but really bonded with one of them over sushi and Always Sunny In Philadelphia. In fact, I just called her to see what her thoughts were on my white blood cell count and eating sushi today. My mom made both of them Egyptian food to thank them and I hugged both of them goodbye, but what really made this last cycle a little easier was that the nurse, Kathleen (who I talk to about sushi), started tearing up. She said it's always hard when patients leave because of the relationships that are built. I was really touched that Kathleen liked me enough to cry. I thought I was just that annoying kid in the background who wouldn't stop talking about sushi and watching The View at too high of a volume.

Christmas was splendid. I GOT A MOUNTAIN BIKE. AND A FRENCH PRESS. I also had an awesome time with my family. My mother unexpectedly said a very heartfelt pre-dinner prayer, so obviously, I cried (the cancer made me soft), but it was really nice. It's been a very difficult year with everything going on, and though we're thankful for the lessons learned, we are all happy for the year to be over. I have a good feeling about 2014. 

I guess that pretty much sums up the update. I should probably leave you all with a picture or something.

Family Christmas Eve Photoshoot

Some good ol' Peanut lovin'

A picture of a picture: A Christmas Special

Fourth Cycle, Last Cycle and Beyoncé

I guess I should start off by saying that Beyoncé's surprise album drop on Taylor Swift's birthday was genius. That's all I have to say about that.

My fourth and final cycle begins NEXT WEEK. And I am excited to announce that several friends will be joining me in treatment on Monday. It should make the day go by quick, which is great because that day is always the longest. This will be the toughest week I have ever faced since treatment started. Let me break it down for you. I went into my first cycle at 100%. The first full week knocked me down to 50%. Before my second cycle started I recovered to 80%. Then, my second full week knocked me down to 40%. I'd say I recovered to about 70-75%. By my third full week of treatment, I was taking about 3 or 4 naps everyday. I was completely exhausted and it was so much harder compared to my first week. During my first week I read nonstop for the full four hours of treatment. In my third week, I showed up in the morning and passed out until the afternoon, and would go home just to pass out some more. I mean...I love sleeping, but DAYUM, was I unproductive. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that my body is tired and this fourth full week is going to be TOUGH. Which brings me to my next topic...

Exercise.

One of the most frustrating things about my whole situation. After my surgery in September, I had to say goodbye to exercise for a full two weeks. Anyone who tries to stay in shape knows that a dormant two weeks means a complete loss of progress and a walk back to the starting line. So, that was the first frustrating thing. The second frustrating thing is that at my two-week follow-up appointment after surgery, my doctor told me that I wasn't allowed to lift for THREE MONTHS. I'm not jacked or anything, but you know, I had little bumps on my biceps that I was working on. Anyway, they're completely gone now. And so is the rest of the muscle that I had. The third frustration in all of this when it comes to exercise is the fatigue. In treatment this week, my blood results showed that my hemoglobin level was lower than normal. It was a 9.2. To put it in perspective, a value of 8 means the patient needs a blood transfusion. So, I'm still safe, but I'm anemic. Meaning, my fatigue has gotten worse. This is completely expected during chemotherapy, but it makes working out harder. If I could sum up my workouts on chemotherapy in one phrase I think it would be...kiddies, close your ears.

Running is a bitch.

Getting back into shape is a way longer process than would be if I wasn't on chemo. Not to mention, my blood pressure is significantly lower than normal. After runs (which, let's be honest, are barely runs at all), I have headaches on and off for the next day or so. And during my run, every time I try to pick up the pace my heart feels like it's going to explode out of my chest. Thanks for all the pumping, Heart, but if you could do a better job that'd be great. 

And to my last order of business...I was about to post the above as the entirety of this blog post, but my good friend, Sam (featured in previous blog...you know, Oxford Sam), sent me the following Ted talk.

http://www.ted.com/talks/jane_mcgonigal_the_game_that_can_give_you_10_extra_years_of_life.html 

For those of you who don't know, Ted talks are my favorite. This Ted talk is about post-traumatic growth. Throughout the entirety of this crappy situation, I never let myself sit down and dwell in a thought like, "No. No, this is just too much. This is total shit. Why me?" The key word being dwell. Obviously, I've had this thought, but I only sit with it for a second. The reason being that I know my recovery relies MAINLY on resilience. People of the blogging world, you can get through ANYTHING if you are resilient. Life is about getting knocked down and getting back up again. I've been knocked down many times before cancer and I'm sure you have all been knocked down many times too. But cancer has knocked me down like I've never been knocked down before, but, with resilience, I'm going to get up like I've never gotten up before. Cancer is the springboard to my goals. I am now more focused on my targets than I have ever been. I'm going to get into medical school and not only will I be a great doctor, but I will have the experience of being a patient. This cancer, which will eventually be a piece of my past, will help me relate to my patients. So, I believe there is a reason for everything, and maybe this is just one of the reasons why I got cancer. 

IN SUMMATION, watch the Ted Talk because it touches on four resiliences that I believe are what help me get through every day of treatment, even if I've been doing my own version of each of the speaker's tasks.

As I Lay Dying...from stomach cramps

Okay, maybe a little dramatic. Not to mention, somewhat cheap, given that I used the title of a book I've never read to introduce this post. Like I was saying, here I lay dying from stomach cramps. I was sound asleep, having sweet dreams about treatment tomorrow, where chemotherapy came to me in the form of the lollipop guild and we all danced along the yellow, brick road. Then, all of a sudden, I awoke, writhing in pain. I called upon my mother and father and they lovingly fed me Pepto Bismol. Yet, here I am. The residual pains from my cramps leave me sleepless and itching to tell the world. I can only hope the world yearns for my blog posts as much as I yearn to post blogs.

Bad News Bears, Guys...

Friends, family, and random readers who somehow stumbled to this blog and found the title of this post interesting enough to read on: it is settled--I have to do a 4th cycle. I met with my oncologist yesterday to talk about my new AFP level. There were two unfortunate things about this meeting. One of them was that I did not know this result would determine the 4th cycle. I thought I would have another AFP test after my 3rd cycle, but I was wrong. The second unfortunate thing is my AFP level was 2. TWO. I was so close. Anyway, I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. A 4th cycle would heighten my chances of kicking this cancer to the curb for good. So, instead of the 6 days I thought I had left, I now have 27 days. Quite the mental and emotional challenge. It was very hard to stay positive when I found out the news.

My new final day of treatment is December 31, New Year's Eve. In a way, I guess this is the bright side to a 4th cycle. My battle with cancer will come full circle. I can end my year and leave cancer behind me as I start over, new and healthy, in 2014. I also have my follow-up appointment with my surgeon the morning of the 31st, and I'm pretty sure he will clear me to start lifting again. Not to mention, I talked to my oncologist and I am allowed to have a glass (one glass) of wine the night that I finish treatment. This is pretty exciting, as wine is my favorite alcohol. I will be celebrating the year's end and my cancer's defeat with my family at my aunt's house in New Jersey at her yearly New Year's Eve party. It should be a really great time and I am pretty excited. January 1, 2014, can't come soon enough.

Before I end this blog post, I wanted to share a link with you guys. My team, for some odd reason (they must love me or something), started a fundraiser for me. They call it "Funds for 'Fogs - The Julie Mina Campaign". It's actually the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. They will be sending all of the proceeds to my family to help us pay the medical bills for all of this cancer crap. This isn't me telling you that if you don't donate, I'll hate you forever. This is me just posting the link to let you know that it's there if you want to help. Also, if you're in the Ithaca area, my team is holding a benefit concert this Friday night at 10 PM at the Nines on College Ave and my buds, Shannon and Bekah, are playing! I usually take part in these concerts, but since I can't be there to play, Shannon will FaceTime me on stage. Alright, that's enough about me...

Here is the link to donate: http://cwrfc.com/

And here is the link to the facebook page and details for this Friday's concert: https://www.facebook.com/events/204064706445421/ 

Also, if you guys could keep my friend, Mike Judge, in your thoughts and prayers on Dec. 10, that would be great. I met Mike in the treatment center, and if you haven't read any of my previous posts, he is 19 years old and he is battling Ewing's sarcoma. He has surgery to remove the tumor in his arm on December 10 and this is me wishing him luck!! GOOD LUCK, MIKE!!

Good luck on finals, everyone!!! Or whatever else you do with your life...

The Things That Suck

Yes, I know what you're thinking: "Who is this blogger that doesn't post for weeks and then posts twice in two days?" It's me. I'm the blogger. I begin my last full week of treatment tomorrow and I thought this might be a good time to talk about all of the things that suck about full weeks of treatment. If you're reading this and you are looking for something to read that makes you feel jolly about life, please leave now. Also, why would you look at a cancer patient's blog? That's sickening and inhumane. If you're looking to read something while you're down in the dumps about a bad break-up, or your lack of motivation for starting a workout plan, or if you're just curious about cancer, READ ON. I will explore some of the things that suck about the full weeks of treatment of a chemotherapy regimen. Enjoy.

1. I wake up everyday at 7 am. Because of the steroid I get on days 9 and 16, I usually sleep from 4:30 am to 11:30 am. So, you can imagine the misery I feel on Mondays of full weeks when I wake up at 7, having fallen asleep only several hours before. It's almost as bad as the all-nighter I pulled before my biochemistry midterm last fall. Or the all-nighter I pulled before my biochemistry final last fall. I guess they were both equally miserable. The lesson here is that if you can pull off a good grade when saving your work for the last minute, then continue to live your life that way. Wait, no. That's not a good lesson. I don't even remember what I was talking about. Man, I'm glad biochem is over.

2. The treatment center is an hour away. Okay, I guess I have no reason to complain. Some of the patients that go to my treatment center travel 2 hours to get there. I can't imagine their full weeks of treatment...Either way, the travel time REALLY sucks. I'm just so sick of being in cars even though I can count on one hand the number of times I've driven in the past 2 months. My chauffeur also has really bad taste in music. KIDDING. I don't have a chauffeur. Well, if that didn't make me lose a large percentage of my readers, I don't know what will! BADAM CHICK!

3. I spend 4+ hours in the treatment center everyday. Yes, everyday. What do I do, you ask? Well, I watch ABC. First there's "LIVE with Michael & Kelly", which is something my old roommates used to watch anyway, so it's not so bad (shout out to the old roommates). Then there's that cooking/talk show thing with Rachel Ray. While we're on the subject, I really don't think America should have given Rachel Ray a talk show. I just don't understand it. She already had her whole cooking thing going for her. Unless her talk show hosting skills surpass those of Oprah's, then she should have just continued to teach us all how to make meals in 30 minutes, because the talk show portion of her new show just isn't doing it for me. Nonetheless, I still watch it. Why, you ask? Because there is absolutely, positively nothing else to watch on the other 5 channels. After Rachel Ray's gig, there is the View. Sometimes it makes me laugh. Sometimes. After the View I usually pass out for awhile until I'm done treatment. Before cancer, I had never really seen any of these shows. I would like to announce to everyone right now, because I know you have all been wondering: YOU ARE NOT MISSING ANYTHING. I repeat, NOTHING IN THESE MORNING TALK SHOWS WILL CHANGE ANYTHING IN YOUR LIFE. At best, they are background noise. I'm sorry if anyone really likes any of these shows. You can message me and we can battle it out there. Or here. I don't care. I'll stand by what I said. You know, I used to read throughout the entirety of my treatment, but now I'm too tired or unable to focus enough to read for that amount of time. Chemo has ruined me.

4. My inconceivable amount of trips to the bathroom. Yep, I'm being serious. Because the chemo drug, Cisplatin, affects kidney function, the doctor gives me a diuretic to help my body flush out the drug. Not only do I receive a diuretic, but the nurses hang up a big ol' bag of hydration. So I make many, many trips to the bathroom about an hour and a half into treatment. About every 5 to 10 minutes, actually. I might as well just post up in the bathroom with Netflix. Oh wait, I can't because THERE'S NO INTERNET. Oh, I didn't mention that before? Yeah, you might as well just leave me here to die. Ahem, okay. I'm done complaining. 

5. My loss of appetite. During full weeks I usually have a small breakfast when I get to the treatment center, something small when I get home, and then if I even think about food for too long after that I might vomit. So I usually don't think about food. It's been working well for me so far.

6. The sleepiessss. I pass out on and off all day, erryday during full weeks. I become undependable, unreliable, un...awake. Let me put it this way, I probably won't answer your texts or calls. When I do, even my text is slurred. And my texts already don't make sense WITHOUT the chemo. Don't even try to imagine it--you'll hurt yourself.

7. FIVE.LONG.DAYS. Last, but not least. The thing that sucks the most is that even though it is only just a week, it is a long, hard week. And I dread every second of it. BUT, if this is, in fact, my last full week of treatment, this week's end will feel so sweet. So, let's hope for an alpha-fetoprotein level of 0!

Okay, so I couldn't even come up with 10 things. Obviously, my life isn't all that bad.

FINEPRINT: I hope everyone who reads this understands that I am kidding. Yes, chemo treatment sucks, but it is a small price to pay for the good health that will result from it. Not to mention, my family and friends and readers that I have never met have been an AWESOME support system. I use this blog to make fun of the situation I am in and I hope it's fun for anyone who reads it. If at any point you are sick of my fake (real, but I don't want to be annoying) complaining, please do not feel obligated to continue reading. It's not like I've been dealt a really crappy hand or anything. It's not like I'm sitting at home alone with my dog all the time, just waiting for someone to come hang out with me. It's not like I've spent the past 5 weeks on a paint-by-number because I'm not good enough to make my own painting. Yeah, it's not like that. So don't worry, I'll be fine here all alone, by myself, laughing at my own jokes on the blog I write for myself. 

My Third Cycle and, Hopefully, A Roundhouse Kick to Cancer's Face

Wow, it's been awhile since I posted a blog. I guess I've been busy with my cancerous lifestyle, you know, chilling at da treatment center wit mah homies, chillin at home wit mah puppy, paintin and shit. No, just kidding. I went up to Ithaca for a bit and hung out with some of my friends. The last time I enjoyed myself like that I was running up my rugby team's bar tab at Level B (side note: so sad I'm missing formal this semester). I got into Ithaca just in time for my friend's 21st birthday and fishbowls at Level B (because Level B is just so classy), and I flew through the night on the wings of sobriety. I was blessed with the opportunity of watching my friends trade in their good judgment for blue raspberry koolaid mixed with vodka. Later on, after enough fishbowls are chugged and too much money is spent on alcohol, the dancing usually begins. This is my favorite part because you can always spot the girl who is way too drunk and probably too young to be in a bar. This time...oh let me tell you, THIS TIME, that girl had toilet paper stuck to her boot. And she was dancing her crazy ass all over the place. This made for an easy transition back into the college life. So I spent my night living vicariously through the drunk girl with toilet paper stuck to her boot.

Now to what it was really like being back at school for almost a week. For my friends who have taken semesters off before, I hope this is something you can relate to, and maybe we can bond about it over a beer later. Well, to be quite honest, being back at school was weird. I felt like a guest in my own home. I've really grown to love Cornell, and having been away from it for so long has been extremely tough. I didn't really expect that my visit would feel completely normal, but I also didn't think that it would be as hard as it was. As odd as it sounds, I don't think my battle with cancer really hit me until I was back on the Hill, attending class with a couple of my friends. Wow, that makes me sound like the biggest nerd ever. Let me clarify, I was attending class because I showed up in Ithaca in the middle of the week--it was either that or hang out with Netflix for a day. So, I got to U.S. Healthcare Systems, and not only did I decide that I want to take that class next fall, but I also decided that cancer sucks. Cancer took from me a semester that I had rightfully earned. All of these college kids showed up to this 200/300 lecture all giddy and excited about their weekend plans and there I am wishing I didn't have to spend the next few weeks of my life in a treatment center. If you haven't already guessed, cancer really does suck, and speaking as a young adult with cancer, I feel betrayed by my body. My body, which is supposed to work with me, has been working against me and brought me here: cancer. Now that all of my readers have closed this blog due to a very whiney cancer patient who won't stop whining because she thinks she has a right to just whine, whine, whine, I will move on...

My real reason for visiting Ithaca was to celebrate some of my favorite traditional events with my teammates. Saturday night was Jock Jams. This party is only for the elite, and by that I mean, if you don't show up in a good costume you might as well just go home and cry yourself to sleep. So naturally, I showed up in full-body, green spandex. Yes, you guessed it! I was Charlie Kelly's Greenman from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, my new obsession. Well, actually my new obsession is Grand Theft Auto V, but that's for another blog post. 

This is Greenman performing Blue Steel from the movie, Zoolander

This is Greenman with friends, Lee (left) and Sam (right). Fun fact: Sam will be doing cancer research and earning her Masters in Oncology at Oxford next year. According to Sam, I inspired her to choose that path, and I will, from now on, take all of the credit for her achievements. YOU'RE WELCOME, SAM!

On Sunday was our annual Rugby Thanksgiving Dinner. The day where we force all of our rookies to prepare a wonderful Thanksgiving feast and I sit on the couch and make fun of everyone and everything. And that's exactly what I did. It was just like old times. The only difference was that now that I have cancer, I was no longer an "asshole" for not helping. I plan on milking this cancer thing every single second until I am in remission.

This is the team with all of the food we made. Surprisingly, not every dish is featured in the above photo.

Speaking of remission, I find out the results of my alpha-fetoprotein level within the next few days. If you saw in my last post, my level was 14 and I need that number to go down to 0. If I only have to do 3 cycles, then my last day of treatment will be December 10. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS....just in time for the holidays! I'm already thinking about all of the wine I'm going to drink once I'm finished with chemo. 

For the remainder of this blog post, I would like to pretend that I am a wise, experienced, young woman and give some advice to my readers. Here it goes...

1. Choose your friends wisely. You never know when a study Sunday turns into an all-nighter in the Emergency Room and you need people to take care of business while you battle cancer.

2. Let yourself relax. After having spent 3 years at Cornell and working pretty much every single second of every single day, relaxing isn't an action that is often performed. And when it is performed, you can bet your ass you'll feel incredibly guilty about it. So when I started this semester with nothing to do, I kind of panicked. A couple months later and relaxing is all I do! Actually, I don't know how I'm going to make it through the spring semester because I'm pretty sure I don't know how to read anymore. Nonetheless, everyone needs time to themselves if they want to be successful.

3. Write blogs. The thought of starting a blog crossed my mind early on in treatment, but it wasn't until I met my 19-year old fellow cancer patient, Mike Judge, in the treatment center that I thought seriously about publicly sharing my journey. Now, I'm less than a dozen posts in and I have more than 10,000 views. Pretty amazing, if you ask me. Check out Mike's story here: http://thebiggestgame.blogspot.com

Okay, I've decided to save the rest of my advice for later posts/I've run out of advice because I've actually learned nothing about life from this experience. BUT STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT MY NEW ALPHA-FETOPROTEIN LEVEL.  I hope everyone had a fantastic Thanksgiving!