A Letter to Myself

A Letter to Myself on the Day I Found Out I Had Stage 3 Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

Dear Self,
Today feels like the hardest day of your life. Every single thing you thought you had planned for yourself just got thrown up in the air and you don't even know if you'll be alive to celebrate your next birthday, so celebrating this one that's coming seems stupid. How do you celebrate your birth when you can't stop thinking about your death? But that's the thing, isn't it? Death. That's the thing no one wants to talk about and the thing that brings tears to everyone's eyes when you tell them you have cancer. The fear that you're working so hard to control is screaming at you through the eyes of everyone around you as they tell you to fight. They say they're sure you'll beat this, but their tears and their wide eyes betray their doubt. How are you supposed to cope with that? How do you hold your friends as they cry and tell them it'll be okay?
Here's how. Today, you will make the most important decision of your life. For your life. Today, you will think about all the options and everything that could go wrong, and you will decide to smile. Today, you will talk to God like you haven't before and you'll be angry and confused, but then you'll smile. If you want to survive this, you have to decide today to smile every. single. day. No matter how far into hell you feel like you've been thrown, you're going to smile.

I wish I could tell you that today is actually the hardest day of your life, but it's not even close. Get ready to cry, and buy your Kleenex at the Costco cause you're gonna need them. That's okay, though. You have to let yourself cry because I'm pretty sure if you bottle all this up you're going to explode like a bottle of Coke filled with Mentos. For reals. Cry it out. But after you cry, every single time, smile. Even if you have to force yourself to smile, do it just so you remember how it feels.

Want to know what's coming? You sure? It's not all roses and teddy bears, even though you will get some pretty legit stuffed animals as gifts. One even sings! Anyway, back to the whole glimpse of the future thing. You're going to want to stay in bed all day every day, but don't let yourself. People need you, and you need people. If you let yourself be sick and stay in bed, you're going to forget why you're fighting. So every morning when your knees feel like they forgot how to bend, your head feels like it's going to explode, your feet feel like someone set them on fire, and you can't even look at food, take it one step at a time. One painful step and then another. And then, after a while, the pain starts to fade. The bad news is that as soon as the pain fades and you start to feel human again, it's time for more chemo and you're kicked back to worse than you were before. But you'll get out of bed every morning and no one but you will know how much of a victory that will be. Because every time you get out of bed, you're taking control and the cancer loses a little bit of power - one painful step at a time.

You're going to feel sick. You're going to lose your hair, and you're going to realize how much your hair meant to you. You'll be okay though, because really, you're super sexy without hair. Where dem boys at?!? People will stare at you in the grocery store and say insensitive things and you'll cry. One day, you'll end up covered in vomit in your car outside of the chemo clinic calling your dad and sobbing and asking him to come and get you because you literally won't know what else to do. But guess what. That won't be the worst day of your life. I'm not going to tell you what the worst day will be, because guess what, you'll get through it the same way you'll get through every other day - one painful step at a time.

Cancer is going to do some crazy things. It'll rob you of so much that you'll feel like you have nothing left. Start taking pictures of happy moments and things that speak to your soul. You have to keep your soul alive and strong because right now, your soul has to carry you through as your body tries to kill you. Cancer brings out the true colors of the people around you, and I can't prepare you for that. There's no way to prepare you for the late night conversations with friends when you can't really tell them how bad you feel because you know it will terrify them. There's no way to prepare for your best guy friend from college to abandon you because he can't deal with the fact that you might die. "We'll be friends forever, right?" ...Or until cancer comes and they stop calling. Stop texting. Stop asking how you are. Some people can't deal with it, and you can't prepare for that heartbreak. But you'll get through it - one painful step at a time.

Guess what else I can't prepare you for. All the wonderful things that will come from fighting cancer. I know that right now, that sounds ridiculous. Wonderful things? But it's real. Cancer won't make you strong. How you choose to fight will make you strong. Stronger than you ever thought you could be. Not because you had cancer, but because you had cancer and chose to smile and keep walking with your head held high. THAT will make you strong. As soon as death stops controlling you with fear, you'll finally start living. Life isn't about being afraid and giving in when you're in pain - it's about love and happiness and growth, and when cancer strips you of who you thought you were, you'll find all of those things. Love - you'll be 132% overwhelmed when you realize how many people truly love you and support you. It will change how you treat strangers on the street and kids in your classroom and the people you've known the longest. Happiness - you're going to learn that no one and no situation controls how you feel. That's one thing you are always in charge of and you can always choose to smile. Growth - failure won't scare you anymore. Once you've gone through hell, your whole life revolves around finding heaven. You'll learn to take time for yourself and to try new things. Fighting cancer will let you appreciate what you have because you'll learn that it could be taken away at any moment. You'll stare at the sky a little more, smile when the wind touches your face, and wear dark lipstick just because you feel like it.

The next seven months are going to be awful, but you'll make it. One painful step at a time. But just know that every one of those painful steps is bringing you closer to August 16. The day that you'll finally hear the words, "You're cancer free." It will feel like every bit of light in the world rushes into your heart as you walk out of that clinic, and I promise, every painful step will be worth it as you call your best friends to tell them it's over. You'll cry and laugh and hyperventilate a little bit - but in a good way. You'll speed back to your school and tell your coworkers and principals the good news and they'll cry and hug you and you'll know that you've never been alone. You'll film a silly dance just because you want to, and you'll stop wearing hats because your twinkle will finally be back and you won't give a darn what people think anymore. You're alive! Every day now, when you wake up, you won't take painful steps. You'll take steps filled with purpose and hope and strength, and nothing will take that away from you. Cancer will try to weaken you. It will try to convince you that you aren't strong enough for this, but you are. You have God and the best people in the whole world on your side, and you've always been stubborn, so you won't let it beat you. When you walk out of that clinic, finally cancer free, you're going to realize something. Cancer didn't really take anything from you, because everything and everyone that matters can't be changed or stolen by some stupid tumors. You're more than that. You're more than your cancer, more than your tears, and more than your doubts. You are freaking awesome, and you're gonna make it - one painful step at a time.

Love,
You. The future you. The CANCER FREE you.

Now What?

Can I get some kind of HALLELUJAH for chemo being over?!? It's a pretty great feeling to have survived 6 months of feeling like the walking dead.
But it's actually pretty confusing trying to figure out how to feel. Because even though I'm done with chemo, I don't know if it worked or if I'm cancer free, so that's still scary. It's one terrible, miserable chapter closed, but there might be more terrible, miserable chapters ahead. OR I could be done and move on. It's just this crazy fork in the road, and I won't know until I have my PET scan in a few weeks. *Cue emotional wreck for the next few weeks.* Add to that the fact that I'm trying to plan my school year without having any idea how I'm going to be feeling. It's a good time.

BUT we celebrate when we can, right?!
I told my mom that I didn't really want to do an end-of-chemo party or make a big deal out of it because ending chemo doesn't mean the cancer is gone, but, like any good mother, she didn't listen and planned a party anyway. I love that lady.

I got all dolled up for my last chemo! The nurses and doctors have gotten used to my crazy wigs and hats, so they were all excited to see what I'd bring for the big last day. I think I did a pretty good job... my rainbow mohawk rocked it, even if it was too tall to comfortably fit in the car. And my shirt was a hit - it said "My oncologist does my hair." My doc took a picture to keep because he liked it so much/because I'm his favorite patient, I'm pretty sure.

Mom and Michelle came to chemo with me, and mom brought flowers and purple cupcakes! It was legit!
Chemo took longer than usual because my port had to be flushed out due to blood clots - those nasty little things. But as soon as I finished my injections, in came all of my favorite people (minus David)! They walked in to the clinic wearing matching shirts that said "Lymphoma Lost" on the front and "So just dance, dance, dance" on the back, and they had balloons, and I might've cried just a little.

Dad, Joseph, Erin, Drew, Becky, Cassie, and Brenda had all taken time out of work and life to come and support me and celebrate and it was just the best moment! I'm 100%, for real, the luckiest lady to have these people as my support team, and I know I can't ever repay them for how much they've loved and supported me. When I first realized I might have cancer, I called Cassie from my car and I just cried and told her how scared I was. She was a red-headed angel and cried with me and told me it would all work out in God's plan. A different time, Drew knew I was at my parent's house and came all the way over just to give me a hug before I left for Salt Lake. And so many times, Becky calls me just to check up and talk about life, and makes sure I have everything I need when I pretend I'm a hobo and sleep on her couch. This is the kind of high quality friends I have, folks. I'll tell you all about my amazing family later, but they're gold-medal worthy, too.

It's a cancer tradition (apparently) that you get to ring this bell after your last chemo to symbolize finishing and all that jazz, so we gathered around the bell and I rang it like a champ! Only I didn't expect it to be as loud as it was, so that was a bit of a shock. Good times.
We then headed to the office supply store to stock up on their 1 cent items for my classroom, and then came home and had wonderful food and happiness. Then I took a nap, because even though it's my last chemo, it's still chemo - so it still sucks.

So...what happens now?
Well, tomorrow I'm taking a mental health day and spending the night at a fancy resort. I'm super excited because #1: hotels are my favorite thing, and #2: I need some time to process, so why not do that in a complimentary bathrobe or mineral water hot tub?
It's been the craziest 6 months, and a lot of what I thought made me who I am has been taken away. So many things that I thought were important to me, like my freaking sexy hair or my energy, were suddenly gone. I can't describe what that's like, but it's hard. I've had to really evaluate who I am and what I want, and I'm taking some time to get used to the changes. Plus it's an excuse to wear a fluffy bathrobe, so really, it's a win-win, right?
Then, just to take the relaxation to the next level, I'm spending some time in a cabin far away from blogs and hashtags and oncology appointments.
And thennnn it's back to real life, and I'll have my PET Scan. It will show if the cancer is gone or how effective the treatments have been. The next day I'll meet with a radiologist to review the scans and go over the options. Hopefully (let's all pray!) the cancer will be gone and I won't need radiation, but it's still an option because it lessens the chance that the lymphoma will come back. It's not a great option, though, because the tumor where I'd be most likely to need radiation is nestled right between my heart and my lungs. Little brat. So we will see. If I do radiation, it will be every. single. day. for 4 weeks. So that's exciting.

So that's the 4-1-1. The down low. The scoop. The headlines. All that jazz.
Cheers to making it through chemo! Fingers crossed that radiation doesn't have to be a thing!

Being bald has its perks, I mean, look how great I look as Darth Maul.

A World of Pure Imagination

Sometimes people say things to me like "Wow, only two more rounds of chemo! Piece of cake!" And a little part of me wants to smack them in the face, but a bigger part of me is glad that they don't understand how awful chemo is. Two treatments is still a huge obstacle. As of yesterday, only one more. Something to celebrate, but also still scary and hard.

A lot of people have been asking me what chemo is actually like and what actually happens on chemo days. It's like this big mystery. Somebody gets cancer, and we all know they are getting chemo, but we don't actually have any idea what the chemo is or what it does to them. Soooooo I decided to give you a glimpse into the world of my imagination as we take a journey through a typical chemo day -- told through my thoughts.

Tina's thoughts on a typical chemo day:

Ughhhhhhhhhhhh it's chemo day.
If I just go back to sleep, we can pretend it isn't chemo day, right?
Right.
Ughhhhhhhhhh a text message. Probably someone checking to see if I'm awake.
Yep. If I don't message back, we can pretend it isn't chemo day, right?
Nope.
Ughhhhhhhhh fine I'll get up but I won't be happy about it.
I need to eat something or I'm going to throw up.
I'll eat a healthy breakfast.
All I want for breakfast is butterscotch pudding.
...I have cancer. Butterscotch pudding for breakfast it is!
Why does pudding take so long to make?! Doesn't it know I'm freaking starving?!?
Oh look, the 5 minutes is up. Pudding's done!
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
That was a solid decision. Nailed it!
Ughhhhhhhhhh I have to get dressed.
...It's chemo day...sweatpants it is!
Man I love sweatpants.
I gotta find me a man who loves sweatpants.
And also he has to love bald chicks. That might be harder.
Psh, totes whatevs, I'm rocking this bald head look.
Oh hey there, sexy lady in the mirror, fancy meeting you here!
Nope, didn't work, still kinda ugly.
I'm so going to throw up.
Welp. I'm dressed.
I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I hate this.
Look, a text.
Well here come the tears, that text was exactly what I needed.
Friends always know. Man I have the best friends.
Maybe I can do this.
OH CRAP I forgot to put my numbing cream on!   [[Side note: Before each treatment I put numbing cream on my surgically implanted port so that when they jam a giant needle in my chest it doesn't make me see stars. But it only works if you remember to put it on...]]
Dang it, Tina, get it together!
Well better late than never, I guess.
We don't have any seran wrap, so I'll just cover my port in this press-and-seal wrap. That's probably fine, right?
I can't do this. I so can't do this. I can't do this.
Ugh I need an ativan or I'm going to throw up. Or faint.
Dang it, Tina, where did you put the medicine??
Oh, right. On the bookshelf. Because that makes perfect sense.
I wonder if Michelle is ready to drive me to chemo.
Oh look, she's dressed and ready. Dang it. That means we have to leave.
Let's stop at Walmart for some chocolate. I deserve chocolate.
Mmmmmmmmmm chocolate.
I should probably go for a jog.
I'll go for a jog tomorrow.
Today I'm eating chocolate. Get over it, you super fit people.
We're totally going to be late to chemo.
We could just keep driving and pretend chemo doesn't exist.
for reals.
Let's just go to the airport and catch a plane.
Fiiiiiiiine I'll go to chemo and live or whatever.
I still might throw up.
Oh look, we're here. Great.
Smile at the other people in the waiting room like we're not all waiting to get poisoned.
It's the polite thing to do.
Time for the weigh in and vitals.
Stupid blood pressure cuff is going to rip off my arm.
Oh good, my heart's still beating. Woot woot!
I hate when they put the needle in my port.
"Little poke!" Yeah, how about I give YOU a little poke, nurse? Hmm?
Just kidding I would never do that. Probably.
Oh good, they just took like half of my blood.
Can ya make sure you took the blood with all the cancer??
Hahaha I'm so funny.
And now we wait.
Oh hey, doctor, let's talk about how miserable last treatment made me.
Yes, I was nauseous.
Yes, I was freaking exhausted.
Yes, my feet hurt and I couldn't feel my fingers.
Yes, my appetite was cray-cray-crazy.
Yes, my skin has random dark spots.
Yes, my nails are dying.
Yes, I have bags under my eyes.
Yes, my muscles are embarrassingly weak.
Yes, my balance is off.
Yes, my brain doesn't work and I forget words all the time.
Oh, that's all normal and expected?
GREAT.
Welp, my blood levels look awful...just the usual...let's pump me full of poision again!
Breathe, Tina, this is just the first two bags, the steroid and the anti-nausea.
These bags are your friends!
Maybe I'll just go to sleep.
Crap, the first two bags are empty.
Time for the real fun.
I might throw up.
Here comes the Bleomycin.
This one's not so bad at first - just causes all the side effects.
Stupid bleomycin. Why'd I ever name my stuffed leopard after you anyway?
Crap, The bleomycin's done.
Time for the red death...Adriamycin.
Oh shit, here comes the chemo taste.
Swallow, Tina, swallow.
Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up.
Where's my bubble gum?! I need my bubble gum.
Okay, I almost can't taste it through this bubble gum.
Maybe I can do this.
Let's go on Facebook and look at pictures of cute boys.
Distraction....might work.
Nope, not working.
Here comes #3...Vinblastine.
More chemo taste.
Chew the bubble gum, Tina.
Close your eyes and block it out.
Ugh, not working.
Oh good, we're on #4...Dacarbazine.
This one lasts an hour, but doesn't taste as bad.
Now I can try to sleep for an hour.
Ugh, the guy next to me is snoring.
There goes the sleep option.
Maybe I'll text that cute boy.
Oh yeah, great idea, Tina, and say what? "Oh hey, just hooked up to chemo and thinking about you?!"
That's a great opener. Not.
No, nurse, I do not want a cupcake.
Unless you want me to throw up that cupcake all over you.
Which you probably don't.
Sorry for thinking that, nurse.
I'll try not to throw up on you. Or on me.
Oh good, I'm done.
Now let's see if I can walk straight.
Ughhhhhhhhh I feel so heavy and gross.
Probably the 3 pounds of poison I have running through my veins.
Okay, Tina, focus on walking. And not falling over.
Just make it to the car.
Made it.
Breathe, Tina.
Chew the bubble gum.
You made it.
Only one more to go.
Get ready to be sick and hate life for the next 4 days.


So that's it. That's a typical chemo day. Not the best, not the worst. Almost the worst.
I have one more treatment planned. Prayers are always appreciated!

Oh, and here is a hauntingly beautiful picture of me taken by the AMAZINGLY TALENTED Kynsie Rife. She captured the pain and hurt and loss that cancer has brought into my life, and I'm in love with the pictures she took. Enjoy. :)

Good Spirits!

Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you're part of a team! Everything is awesome when you're living our dream!

Sorry for the Lego Movie Song moment that just happened there. #sorrynotsorry

It's legit though! This week we moved into our super adult, super beautiful house that Michelle bought with her very own money. I'm in love and I never want to leave my room because it's beautiful. That's a true story. And there are ducks everywhere outside, which makes leaving my beautiful room worth it. Living the dream.

With a new house comes a new ward and church location and all that jazz. Today was my first time at the new ward because I was sick from chemo last week when the roomies went to church. I went to the meeting for new ward members like a good child, and when I told them that I have cancer (which nicely explained my super sexy black Audrey Hepburn hat they kept staring at), one of the men said, "Well, you seem to be in really good spirits!" And I was like, "haha, yeah I guess."

But then I realized something crazy: I actually AM in really good spirits! Which is crazy! Because really, if I think about it, my life is kind of super lame right now and I sort of hate it. I still have 2 treatments to go, I have to wait a month after my last treatment to find out if it even worked so I'm going to be an emotional mess for a month, I'm pretty much narcoleptic and sleep all the freaking time, and I more closely resemble a potato than a real person. Not exactly the best time of my life, but screw it. Because today I'm happy. 

Today is AMAZING. Today I'm just, like, giggling-to-myself-for-no-real-reason happy. Today I feel strong and I can do anything. Today I feel beautiful. Do you know how long it's been since I felt beautiful?!? Today I am excited for the future. EXCITED. I'm excited to see what happens and what doesn't and how life is going to work out! I don't even remember the last time I was excited about the future! Mostly I've just been worried and scared - but not today. Today I'm just stoked out of my mind because life is freaking wonderful! Today I'm smiling because my new ward seems awesome, because a cute guy helped me find Jupiter last night, because my makeup was on point today, because ducks crossed the road in front of my car this morning, and because of so many other silly, little, ridiculous reasons. It's a great feeling. And I know that this excitement and this little emotional high I have going on has an expiration date because I have chemo on Friday, but that makes it even more special because I realize how rare it is. It doesn't even matter why I'm happy - It just means so much to remember that I am even capable of feeling this happy. I'm really good at smiling for people and I laugh all the time, but how long has it been since I've laughed and smiled when I'm alone, just because I'm honestly feeling it? Way too long. 

Anyway, I just wanted to document this happy day so I can look back on it when I'm feeling like a lumpy little potato on the couch. I'm going camping this week and I'm going to look at so many stars and write my novel and sketch and just generally love my life. See ya later, gater!

And just in case you missed it, here's my super-not-redneck chemo hair from last week. 

What, No Unicorns?

If you are someone whose life is going 100% according to plan, you have absolutely no worries, and you're currently riding on a unicorn eating rainbows, this is not the post for you. So just go sit on your unicorn and be happy in the corner.

BUT, if you are someone whose life is maaaybe going like 62% according to plan on a good day, and your mind is full of all kinds of worries, and you've never even seen a real unicorn, you might need this post.

Listen up, little camper. I don't know your life. And even though you read my blog religiously, you don't know my life. You aren't there when I'm crying because of how people look at me at stoplights. You don't know what I'm feeling in the mornings when every step feels like little garden gnomes are kicking my knees. You haven't experienced my pain when I can't remember a word or phrase that I know shouldn't be difficult. You can't understand how intensely sick I get just thinking about chemo. But, like most things, it goes two ways, folks. I'm not there when you're up at two in the morning stressing about your love life. I don't know what you're feeling when you go to a job where you aren't appreciated. I haven't experienced your pain when you find out that you aren't pregnant. I can't understand how worried you are not finding a job. Like I said, you don't know my life, and I don't know yours.

Guess what, though? I don't think that really matters. Not in the long run. It's hard and it's sad to experience things like that, and I wish there was a magic antidote, but there just isn't. I'm really sorry if this is a spoiler, but life can suck and so far I haven't seen any unicorns. Guess what I have seen? People. People who make every sad, hard, difficult thing worth it because they are magical and beautiful and *cough* even better than unicorns.

My 7th graders read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton at the end of the school year. If you haven't read it, you've spared yourself some tears but you're also missing out on an amazing book. There's a part in the story where a boy reads a letter that was written to him by a friend before this friend died. In the letter, he reads, "There's still a lot of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows."

There's still a lot of good in the world. 

That one sentence has been stuck in my mind for months, and it's kind of become my new mantra because it's freaking awesome. When I'm sitting in the chemo chair trying to forget where I am, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I focus on making it through those few hours. When I wake up and can't think of a reason to get out of bed and try, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I buck up and find something to do. When I watch the news and just want to slap everyone in the face for being stupid, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I want to slap them a little less.

We have to focus on the good. There's so much bad in the world and in our lives that it clouds out everything else. It makes it so hard to find happy moments and reasons to keep going, but the good is there. The bad in the world tends to yell and shove itself in your face. The good is quieter. It's always there, behind the hurt and the sadness, but it doesn't broadcast itself. We don't hear about good on the news everyday and it's not blowing up our Facebook feeds. Why? Because so often the good that gives us the strength to keep going isn't some huge, newsworthy event. The good parts of life come to us in little moments, little glimpses when we can see just how wonderful life can be. Moments like driving through a field of Aspen trees and loving the wind on your face. Moments like hearing a song that somehow matches exactly how you're feeling. Moments like laughing with a car full of friends because they hate laundry too. Moments like buying 7 things of shaved ice and spilling them all over the car on the drive home. Moments like flirting with a drop-dead gorgeous man. Moments like laughing uncontrollably at stupid internet puns. Moments like eating half a watermelon with a fork. Moments like looking around at a family barbecue and realizing you're so lucky that these people are yours. Just moments. Those little things that make you smile and make your heart beat a little faster - look for those moments!

It's okay to have hard days. It's normal to have worries. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one whose life is going maybe 62% according to plan. I can't know and can't take away all of your hard times. Heck, I can't even do that for myself. But what I can do is tell you that there's still a lot of good in the world. Keep going. If you didn't find a happy moment today, look for one tomorrow. Call a friend who makes you smile. Read your favorite book. Watch a Will Smith movie. Jump into a pool. I can't promise you'll find unicorns, but I do know that you can find the good if you look hard enough. Find the good. And once you find it, help someone else find it, too, because maybe their good is hiding behind a wall of bad. We can't let each other forget that the good is still out there. Who knows? Maybe you can be the good in someone's day. Be the person who reminds them that there's still good in the world. There's always a reason to smile and there's always a reason to keep fighting. That's pretty magical. Maybe even more magical than a unicorn.

Here's a picture of us eating watermelon. Just, ya know, for your viewing pleasure. Also, I do not have a unibrow - that's just my glasses mocking my lack of eyebrow hair.

Just keepin ya up to date!

Break out your party hats, you happy people, because we are almost done with chemo!! I've completed 9 treatments and have 3 more. For those of us that aren't into the whole math scene, that's 3/4 of the way done! Can I get a WOOT WOOT?!? Isn't that wonderful?? I'm super excited because, come on, only 3 more treatments?! I got this in the bag.

After my treatments are finished, which should be July 29, we have to wait a month and then we will do a PET Scan to see if the cancer is gone. And we're just gonna bank on the fact that it will be gone and then we'll be done! :)

Hots and Colds

Life is like a freaking roller coaster! It's SO exciting and SO scary and SO wonderful and SO crazy all wrapped up in one crazy adventure!

I don't really know how I'm feeling about cancer right now, because I'm so up and down about it. It just depends on the day. Or the hour. Or the minute. It's normal. Don't believe me? Here are some highs and lows. These are real things, people. Real. Things.

High: Rocking my Audrey Hepburn hat and getting alllll the likes on the social media. Talk about validation, amiright?!
Low: Looking in the mirror at my bald head, scars, bags under my eyes, and my pale skin, and legitimately feeling textbook-definition-ugly for the first time in my life.

High: Everyone constantly saying how they love you and will always be there for you.
Low: Not wanting to call anyone when you're crying at two in the morning because you can only ask so much of people.

High: Accomplishing a whole lot at school!
Low: Trying to take out the trash, not being able to lift it, and collapsing in tears on the floor.

This is not a picnic. Or if it is, it's the worst freaking picnic ever. I've learned a lot about life and people, though. That sounds like a total cliche, and maybe it is, but it's also totally true. I've learned that sometimes the people who you thought would always be there for you flake out when you need them most. The people you thought would have your back don't even return your calls, and that's really, really, really hard. But on the opposite side, I've learned that sometimes people surprise you. The people you haven't been the best friend to come out of nowhere and give you support and love you couldn't even have imagined. Your real-life BFF's don't give up on you even when you're sad and no fun, and they cry and laugh and call even when you don't want to talk. Your family reaches out and makes sure you aren't ever really alone. People are genuinely GOOD inside, and that is awesome and something that cancer can't take away. I've also learned how important it is to have a purpose and something to fight for. When you're told that you actually have to fight for your life, you kinda wonder why. For me, at least, it made me step back and think about what matters to me and why I love living. Again, sounds cliche, but 100% real. Maybe one day I'll let you in on what I decided about my purpose in life. If you're lucky. ;)

It's a tough ride, people. But guess what? The school year is almost over and I am finishing the year with TWO AND A HALF UNUSED PAID DAYS OFF. This is big. This is like my-pride-and-joy big. When I was diagnosed, I was so worried that I would have to take a leave of absence from teaching because first year teachers don't have short term disability. I had already used one of my sick days, and I used like 4 more on tests and surgeries before treatment even started. That meant I went into chemo with only 9 paid days off I could take. If I used those, I could take a few unpaid days off, but then a leave of absence was really the only option. But guess what, I'm a freaking rock star and I only took one day off after each chemo treatment! And I have no idea how I did it. I do know that pretty much every day since the beginning of chemo I have fought with myself to get out of bed, fought through the day at work, and then come home to take a bath and go to sleep. But I did it! I made it through with paid days to spare. DAYS TO SPARE, PEOPLE. Not to brag, but like, that's super impressive. I'm pretty impressed with myself about that, and I think that's okay, because when you're legit too weak to lift a pickle jar, you gotta find something to be proud of. Suck it, lymphoma.