I am: Terminally Fierce.

I suppose the next logical step in my journey was to start a video diary of my cancer experience, especially now that I am unable to write as often as I use to. I’m sure all my non-reading friends/family/strangers prefer videos as well. So here is my first video. [I promise, the other videos shouldn’t be as long as this one.]

Be Kind to One Another

Sometimes, more than others, I am weary of life. There are different reasons why I feel this way, various contributing factors, but a lot of the time people have a lot to do with it. Often, we have encounters with others that are unpleasant, and I have come to realize that even as someone who is battling terminal cancer, I am not suddenly immune from being the victim of other people’s attitude’s or problems. No matter what role you play in life, even if you are the sweetest, most giving person in the world — at some point people are going to crap on you, even when you’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve it.

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Chapter III

Skull Valley, La Noscea, 1568

Vyne glanced up and down several times, looking between the strange terrain around her–vibrant formations of crystal and rock with senseless, clashing textures and colors assaulting her eyesight and making her cringe–back down to the map clutched in her gloved hands. She had studied and read plenty of maps, but actually following one was something entirely new. She had rarely been far from home, and even then she usually had her parents or an escort of some variety to accompany her.

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Regaining independence, one step at a time

Well after having numerous emotional breakdowns over the past few weeks, we (My medical team, Mosha and my parents) have decided that its best for me to try to regain some independence. Relying on other people for every little thing has taken a toll on me in many ways, and while I cannot control other things, such as how I may feel physically, I can control how much help I receive from others. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not on an ego trip nor do I plan on being unwise when it comes to asking for help; I know my limits and when I need to reach out. However, constantly having someone who needs to sacrifice aspects of their life to be my caretaker has never sat well with me. In the end, it ultimately adds more stress to my life, which makes me sicker than I already am.

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Horticulture therapy

After yesterday’s emotional ups and downs, my mom and dad suggested that each day I do something positive each day, like crafting, drawing, writing, reading, etc. Today, I did just that, and decided to start getting my garden ready for planting season. I also decided that I wanted to move my hanging planters from the backyard to the front yard, where they would get more sun and add to the overall look of the house that I’m trying to achieve with all the vines and plants. Continue reading

Radiotherapy, Day One

Today was day one of radiotherapy. For those of you who don’t know, radiotherapy uses radiation, such as x-rays, gamma rays, electron beams or protons, to kill or damage cancer cells and stop them from growing/multiplying. It’s a localized treatment, so it only affects the area where they direct the radiation. Unfortunately for me, the leukemia is so widespread and near so many of my vital organs that directing the rays can get difficult. You definitely don’t want the rays to hit your kidneys or liver or other important organs.

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Something I didn’t want to hear

The worst feeling is when your doctor suggests that your parents aren’t suited to be your caregivers. Its not for lack of willingness, but because mum herself is ill, and I worry for her health. I get stressed about her well-being and feel guilty when I know she isn’t feeling well but is slaving away to make sure that I’m fed and looked after. Continue reading

Even tough people crack

Everyone has an idea of what makes them them, and for me, I have always been someone who likes to think of themselves as strong. When faced with adversity, I choose to state at it emotionless, in the face. Sure, I might be terrified, but I don’t like to show it. I feel the need to be “strong” despite however I might feel inside. But sometimes, I don’t have the energy to be strong.

Writing because I have to

I’m having a hard time finding the will to write. Sometimes I don’t feel physically able and other times its because I feel like I have changed. When I pick up my pen or laptop, I find myself unable to put anything of substance down. Nowadays, not a lot matters. The days just pass me by. I wonder when I will be on the other side of this. When will I begin to look like myself again?

A moment of emo-ness

My pain has grown so much over the last few weeks. I mostly stay at home now, doped up so I can make it through the day. I barely have any interest in anything. I don’t have an appetite most days. I feel a lump perpetually in my throat. I tend to dread going to bed. I’m almost always exhausted, but lying in bed in the dark means there isn’t anything to distract me from the pain and my overarching situation. I get angry, frustrated and exasperated easily. I’m waiting for the day when it all gets better.

Renewed vigor, for the moment

So its been apparent to me that I’ve been a little more angry than usual. I feel like it was bound to happen at some point. Although the drugs account for a large portion of my mood swings, I also have to take ownership for my lack of patience and increased resentment over the past few weeks. I mean, I’ve been pretty good at controlling my emotions regarding cancer, but as of late its been tougher to do so. But today…today I woke up with a renewed vigor. I am determined to conquer this — not just cancer in general, but all of the nasty stuff no one every sees or talks about. I won’t let it change who I am, not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

Patient X

In the patient restroom located on the second floor at the Cancer Treatment Center of America (CTCA), I saw an alarming amount of dried blood on paper towels in the waste basket. The sight made me experience a wide range of emotions, from sadness to anger to relief. It makes me wonder what that patient was experiencing to make them bleed like that, and how scary that must have been. I haven’t personally had an experience like that, losing blood from anywhere (other than good ol’ reliable Aunt Flow), hence my feelings of relief that it wasn’t me.

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Dear Cancer, Part II

I am disgusted, saddened and angry that you impact so many lives, every second, every minute of every day you are being introduced to someone new. “Hi, my name is Cancer, and I’m going to put your life on hold for an unspecified amount of time; So please mark your diary as ‘full for the unforeseeable future.'”

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Stem Cell Transplant — Complete!

An update for everyone —

I received my stem cell transplant today. It was a rather grueling day: seven straight hours hooked up to various machines getting pumped full of different medicines and eventually, someone else’s blood. But, thankfully, it is over, and procedurally, everything went well. Now we wait to see if my body takes the donor’s cells as my own, which can take anywhere between a few weeks to a year, but hopefully we will begin to see something within a month and a half to two months. For now, I am being watched for the next 48 hours around the clock, and I have daily checkups with my cancer team until further notice.

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That odd sensation

I wish I knew how to describe how this feels. Each time is different, and I think that’s part of what makes this horrible. You never know how it will make you feel. They do their best to anticipate what will happen so before they ever even administer the chemo drugs they pump you full of saline, pain meds, antihistamines, antinausea meds hoping that one or all will minimize the negative effects of the chemo, but it’s never the case. You still end up feeling some odd, surreal feeling.

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Almost asleep

I hate sitting in my room, in the lap of luxury. I look around and it’s like the walls are eating me, it’s like some disease and I can’t scratch it off my skin. I drag my nails over goosebumps and hate being here. I shake and cry cold and silent tears in a too big house and wish that I could just have a crawl space where the ceiling didn’t tower above me like the sky and the walls didn’t echo their emptiness. I’m not claustrophobic. I want the stagnant air to close in on me, and I want the city to burn…burn the black creeping into my room always. There’s just no lamp big enough to light the shadows and make my empty bed seem like home.

Moments.

Ever had a moment when you just don’t know how you do it? How you keep going? How you made it this far? Ever looked back and cringed at all the years taken from you by depression and thought, oh god, it’s no wonder I don’t know how to function. I didn’t for so long, I’m still getting back on my feet. And that’s okay, it doesn’t make me incompetent and it doesn’t make you weak to have relearn how to live after spending so long not wanting to.

Matthew 11:30

I love this #braincancerawareness #bracelet. It’s a gentle reminder that even when I don’t feel #brave, God is with me supplying me with courage and strength. | Matt.11:30 | #ilovejesus #chemotherapy #cancersucks

Ladies’ Night at Mora Italian

Yesterday I decided that I wanted to have a ladies’ night out with my mom and Stacey, a night where we could dress up fancy and get dolled up to enjoy ourselves. While thinking of what we should do, I remembered that my favorite chef Scott Conant (known for his work as a judge on the Food Network show Chopped) recently moved to Scottsdale and opened up an Italian restaurant in Phoenix last month called Mora Italian. I went to their website and there was an open reservation at 8:30pm, 8/31, so I went ahead and booked it, informing my mom and Stacey to be ready to leave my house at 7:30pm. I didn’t tell them where we were going — only that they should pamper themselves and be ready to eat good food.

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Chapter II

The Valentyne Manor, East Shroud, 1568

The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the parlor, save for the occasional shift of papers each time the teenage Vyne turned the page of the book she held above her face, reading sprawled out over the sofa. Her mother sat in the arm chair nearby, busy mending a busted seam in one of the girl’s gowns.

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Chapter I

The Valentyne Manor, East Shroud, 1561

The door slowly shoved open, a pair of wide, purple eyes the color of amethyst peeking in through the crack a few ilms wide, a button nose set beneath them, and under it a pair of soft lips. Through the small opening she could only see a forearm and a hand covered in bright white scales clutching a pen, busied without writing upon a parchment spread out across the desk. Just a little more… She pushed the door open a little wider, cringing as a loud creak broke the near silence, drowning out the sound of pen scratching over paper. Had he heard? The hand suddenly halted in its writing, and there was a pause before a voice calmly answered.

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Plans & Pneumonia

Hello people!

It’s been a hectic few days. I worked most of Friday, and my last two appointments were for Nay Nay & Lee Lee, so after we finished they treated me to dinner at Cherry Blossom Noodle Cafe. I was looking forward to our dinner all week because I am currently obsessed with their Chicken Katsu and Potstickers. Dinner was worth the wait because the food was delicious as usual. On our way home we stopped at Zia Records, and I purchased a pack of coloring postcards (Daydreams by Hanna Karlzon), a Color-In’ Book — Retro Summer, as well as a TMNT toy for Andrew. I crashed shortly after getting home as I was tired and not feeling too great.

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