You know that radiant, effervescent feeling you get on a sunny stroll through the farmer's market? Your face is warm and the air smells earthy like days of long ago. Or the feeling of sheer awe when you first glimpse the colors of a brilliant sunset and your breath catches at the impossible beauty. Or the moment of accomplishment at the end of a daunting task which was certain to fail but didn't and you're euphoric with jubilation. The past month of my life can be described as far exceeding the combination of all these.
It began with my eyes blinking in disbelief as a smile parted my lips and spread across my face… and over all the land. This of course was my reaction to the Mayo doctor's explanation of the surgery he can perform that will give me, in his words, "a long life." My head detached like a child letting go of a balloon and it floated into the sapphire sky; smile permanantly affixed. Amazement mixed with elation and I time-lapse bloomed into a new person at that very second. My future was returned to me. I will live.
After my balloon head euphorically floated throughout the galaxy for 24 hours, the attached string was nabbed and brought gently, lovingly back to the best place on Earth, Brown International Elementary School. It was revealed to the Brown community I've been working on this little cancer thing for a bit now and without blinking an eye: ACTION!
A party.... for me???? Surely you jest.
Jest they do not and PAR-TAY we did! Drahota Lives grew overnight from a miniature seedling to a colossal beanstalk. Nicole and Steph, you are magical. You two are like the (good) witches in Practical Magic. I'm totally on to you! The things you're making happen are supernatural and brilliant. Thank you for stretching your light, love, energy tentacles out into the world and wrapping them around me.
Lead by the talented and ever so cool DeWayne Even, Edgewater Live rocked the party. A silent auction with weekend getaways to Breckenridge, Broncos tickets, Nuggets tickets, art by the ridiculously talented Barth Quenzer, plus tons more captivated even the young ones who guarded their merch in an effort not to be outbid. Good work Kalie and Kenzie for snatching up my painting! The massive food spread kept everyone nourished and the volunteer bartenders got 'em saucy. The evening was a HUGE hit in so so many ways. Money was raised, laughs were shared, smiles radiated, hugs were given out by the droves, we danced and sang. This is what life's about, sharing a miraculous evening with phenomenal, illustrious humans.
As I said that night, I was not going to cry. I should have been a blubbering idiot at the sight of everyone who came out to help me. I simply couldn't cry; I was happy. I felt hopeful for the first time in a LONG time. The evening was magical. The life-extending news from Mayo and my adventure since is magical. Besides, I have cried far too many tears about this ordeal. I've been in the black trenches of agony/grief/suffering and I will not return. I recall one particularly heavy night I couldn't stop the tears... just days after my second chemo treatment I was trying to hid out when mom came to check on me. My attempt to wipe my eyes so she didn't see was futile. I had to fess up, "I'm just feeling sorry for myself." Talk about a dramatic shift in perspective. My mind is working overtime to contend with the torrent of emotions and information it's been slammed with over the past year. And now the pendulum has swung the opposite way and I'm inundated with joyous emotions. Sure there are days when I awake in the fog of reality and sadness creeps in. Those are the days I think back to my party, hug my friends, laugh with my students and it's instantly better.
I choked up when I had a moment alone with Shelley and told her, "You realize we're friends forever, right." Shell played an integral part in organizing the party... and in being right by my side through this whole journey.
And the tears came when this happened: two years ago I had a student we'll call "I." "I" was, for lack of a better word, challenging. I'm laughing just thinking about it! I love good challenge and I love "I" to infinity and beyond. His aunt, whom I got to know very well during "I's" tenure in my class tells me, "'I' has been working very hard and saving his money. He has something he wants to give you." He handed me a brand new one hundred dollar bill.
The past weekend was dedicated to "Helping Lindsey Lick It." Basha's brainchild started Friday evening at the local ice cream shop, Little Man Ice Cream. They sold ice cream and kids came out to carol in their pj's in my honor. I desperately wanted to join but my body decided to remind me what all this is about and I was quite ill Thursday evening. I missed work on Friday and the Christmas party I was supposed to attend as arm candy (sorry, Bets).
They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and Saturday proved this to be true with the weight of the moon. Not only did Niya, without having met me, donate the space in her rad establishment, Local 46, she told me she stayed up all night reading my blog. (I'm calling for an end to this blog causing a loss of sleep -- that goes for you too, Jenny!). Niya, thank you! I'm so lucky to have a new friend. Trent dressed as Santa and Artivore showed up to take pictures with the kids. A huge layout of breakfast foods filled our bellies and the kids sang songs. There was another silent auction. I put Lola Drahota down for the opening bid of $5 on a 2014 "Cat Lovers Against the Bomb" calendar (Cat Lovers Against the Bomb- what? hilarious). She won! I'm still laughing at Nicole announcing the winner by meowing into the microphone.
A few students spoke. Lucy read the poem she wrote for me. (I hope you don't mind I'm sharing, Lucy, this is too angelic to keep to myself.)
Just try and keep a dry eye, I certainly couldn't:
Feeling scared and unprepared are the feelings we all share.
And whatever you do I'll always be there for you.
You mean a lot to me.
And you make me feel like I am who ever I want to be.
I love dogs and you're a crazy cat lover, but that doesn't matter.
Miss Drahota you are a determined, hekava good teacher on a mission to amaze everybody.
You are awesome, strong-hearted, and beautiful.
I love you Miss Drahota you are my favorite teacher ever.
I have the best job in the universe.
Saturday afternoon in the Highlands, while doing a little shopping and grabbing a chai with Vivek, I walked out of a store and exclaimed, "That's me!" I was staring at the "Help LINDSEY Lick It" poster hanging in the storefront. As we strolled down the street, we discovered this poster adorning many of the boutiques' windows. I constantly struggle with the words to express my deep and ever-growing gratitude, I will never find them to express how it feels to have your name on posters all over north Denver. Stunning, unbelievable, humbling, wild, stirring. That's a start.
Basha, you better be resting in bed! I demand you sleep. You have far exceeded the call of philanthropic work with all the events of last weekend! Thank you for taking on my cause, you extraordinary, enchanted woman!
The weekend ended at Jolene's house where the masses convened to have their jewelry cleaned... and I'm sure the wine lure a few too. Monica and Jolene, tirelessly returned the sparkle to the diamonds that adorn the women of Brown so they can shine even brighter!
I'm not a natural receiver, so taking in all this attention, concern, and money (especially the money) is a new development for me and I'm really trying. I work every moment on processing the monumental outpouring of love I've received over the past several months. I'll be processing and applying it for years to come. I will ride this love tsunami right over cancer's stupid head and beyond.
I'm loving my life full of yoga, acupuncture, painting, writing, reading, juicing, friends, new friends, family, school, love and happiness.
I'm missing names and I'm sorry. I don't know the extent of who has done what. Please know that your dazzling display of kindness will not go unnoticed. I will pay every cent and good deed forward. I've got a few ideas about how to do this. I might have the doctors clone me so I can make it all happen. They can do that at Mayo, right?
Olive Branch
After riding high on the rainbows and moonbeams of what has been the past month and probably the best of my life, I'm on the verge of full-on Godzilla mode (again).
It would seem as though I have developed a vendetta against medical professionals but this is not the case. Doctors who a) speak to the wrong person during my cancer treatment consultation (see Bananapants) and/or b) decline to write me a referral quickly from my favor. I've favorably mentioned a certain Kaiser surgeon several times in this lil blog o' mine. I can no longer do so.
It all started Tuesday morning when I put in a little call to Kaiser. I assumed it would be quick and relatively painless.... I should have known better (dang my internal optimism). I was inquiring into the status of my referral to Mayo for my surgery, which is slated for January 8th. Everyone I've spoken with is certain a referral will be denied but sheer refusal to write said referral??? That was completely unexpected. The aforementioned surgeon, without giving me a heads up, noted in my file that no referral would take place because he thinks they can perform the surgery I need at Kaiser. The answer is no, you can't. Mayo has been doing this for years and pioneered the treatment for my type of cancer. I need a neuroendrocrine expert. This has been my mantra for months and I'm not going to stop chanting it now. The hospitals with neuroendrocrine expertise are Mayo and John Hopkins according to my research. Mayo wins because it's closer than the east coast. Kaiser and UC Hospital ruled out live donor liver transplant (down the road), Mayo put it back on the table. Mayo will ablate the liver tumors, Kaiser chemoed them before and without concern for the primary tumor in the pancreas. Everything they say at Mayo makes sense. It is clear, concise and precise. It's what I've craved all along.
The Kaiser surgeon talked me into an invasive surgery, the Whipple, that would have completely altered my life. Both UC Hospital and Mayo agree that is not the best treatment. Both UC Hospital and Mayo agree the primary, pancreatic tumor is in the body of the pancreas and can be saved in part. The Kaiser surgeon repeatedly explained it's in the head of the pancreas and must be fully removed.
A few tears, massive stress, and one zillion phone calls later.... Mayo is sending the request for the surgery referral. Victory! A measly victory but a victory nonetheless. I'll take them any way they come! Plus, I've been winning a lot lately so this little bump in the road isn't going to impede my army as we continue the march into battle.
After Mayo sends the request, Kaiser can approve or deny it -- something I thought was already in the works. At least the process is now started. If we're denied we can appeal. Since Kaiser is an HMO, a fantastic idea for health care until you get a rare cancer, they will probably not cover my surgery. We called the Mayo business office and asked for an estimate on my surgery and subsequent hospital stay. They quoted numbers that don't exist in Teachersalaryland where I live. We are to walk in the door with an amount that is well above what I make in an entire year or I will be turned away. Okay, laugh it off. Whatever happens will happen. Plus, my army is on fire right now and they are rocking the fundraising house!
(Quick side note: Every ounce of my being rejects any idea of anyone giving me any money. This is probably the hardest part of having cancer, honestly. I'm learning that receiving the gifts people are willing to sacrifice from their own hard work is a lesson in deep humility and gratitude. My fruitless search for the words to thank everyone continues in amplitude. They will come someday, somehow, someway.)
So, Godzilla transformation adverted (again). I don't hate doctors or the surgeon referenced several times in this post (see other posts for info about him, Mayo, and all things Lindsey/cancer related). I'm simply trying to get cancer out of my body. I'm not on the warpath against surgeons, Kaiser, or the medical system. Although, it would be a lie if I said I hadn't thought about it a time or two or twenty. My motives are to figure out how to have cancer. How do I cope with this entity in my body which causes me daily discomfort and pain? I've learned there is no clear process or list of procedures. All I can do is listen to my body/heart/soul/mind. They say Mayo is the best place for me to receive the treatment and surgery I need. I will listen as I have done before.
I'm just a girl who wants to get better.
It would seem as though I have developed a vendetta against medical professionals but this is not the case. Doctors who a) speak to the wrong person during my cancer treatment consultation (see Bananapants) and/or b) decline to write me a referral quickly from my favor. I've favorably mentioned a certain Kaiser surgeon several times in this lil blog o' mine. I can no longer do so.
It all started Tuesday morning when I put in a little call to Kaiser. I assumed it would be quick and relatively painless.... I should have known better (dang my internal optimism). I was inquiring into the status of my referral to Mayo for my surgery, which is slated for January 8th. Everyone I've spoken with is certain a referral will be denied but sheer refusal to write said referral??? That was completely unexpected. The aforementioned surgeon, without giving me a heads up, noted in my file that no referral would take place because he thinks they can perform the surgery I need at Kaiser. The answer is no, you can't. Mayo has been doing this for years and pioneered the treatment for my type of cancer. I need a neuroendrocrine expert. This has been my mantra for months and I'm not going to stop chanting it now. The hospitals with neuroendrocrine expertise are Mayo and John Hopkins according to my research. Mayo wins because it's closer than the east coast. Kaiser and UC Hospital ruled out live donor liver transplant (down the road), Mayo put it back on the table. Mayo will ablate the liver tumors, Kaiser chemoed them before and without concern for the primary tumor in the pancreas. Everything they say at Mayo makes sense. It is clear, concise and precise. It's what I've craved all along.
The Kaiser surgeon talked me into an invasive surgery, the Whipple, that would have completely altered my life. Both UC Hospital and Mayo agree that is not the best treatment. Both UC Hospital and Mayo agree the primary, pancreatic tumor is in the body of the pancreas and can be saved in part. The Kaiser surgeon repeatedly explained it's in the head of the pancreas and must be fully removed.
A few tears, massive stress, and one zillion phone calls later.... Mayo is sending the request for the surgery referral. Victory! A measly victory but a victory nonetheless. I'll take them any way they come! Plus, I've been winning a lot lately so this little bump in the road isn't going to impede my army as we continue the march into battle.
After Mayo sends the request, Kaiser can approve or deny it -- something I thought was already in the works. At least the process is now started. If we're denied we can appeal. Since Kaiser is an HMO, a fantastic idea for health care until you get a rare cancer, they will probably not cover my surgery. We called the Mayo business office and asked for an estimate on my surgery and subsequent hospital stay. They quoted numbers that don't exist in Teachersalaryland where I live. We are to walk in the door with an amount that is well above what I make in an entire year or I will be turned away. Okay, laugh it off. Whatever happens will happen. Plus, my army is on fire right now and they are rocking the fundraising house!
(Quick side note: Every ounce of my being rejects any idea of anyone giving me any money. This is probably the hardest part of having cancer, honestly. I'm learning that receiving the gifts people are willing to sacrifice from their own hard work is a lesson in deep humility and gratitude. My fruitless search for the words to thank everyone continues in amplitude. They will come someday, somehow, someway.)
So, Godzilla transformation adverted (again). I don't hate doctors or the surgeon referenced several times in this post (see other posts for info about him, Mayo, and all things Lindsey/cancer related). I'm simply trying to get cancer out of my body. I'm not on the warpath against surgeons, Kaiser, or the medical system. Although, it would be a lie if I said I hadn't thought about it a time or two or twenty. My motives are to figure out how to have cancer. How do I cope with this entity in my body which causes me daily discomfort and pain? I've learned there is no clear process or list of procedures. All I can do is listen to my body/heart/soul/mind. They say Mayo is the best place for me to receive the treatment and surgery I need. I will listen as I have done before.
I'm just a girl who wants to get better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)