tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65682292024-03-12T16:09:04.094-07:00life is goodA personal blogMarcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.comBlogger1638125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-43973538006743950842024-02-18T17:52:00.000-08:002024-02-18T17:52:05.383-08:00moving on?<p> I don't really know how to think about this current stage of cancer treatment. The really intense phases of active treatment-- chemo and surgery-- are done. As far as we can tell, the cancer is gone. Yet I'm still taking meds to treat it/prevent it coming back, and will be for years. It's not quite active treatment, or not the way chemo was, but maybe...passive treatment? It's still...something. It's a weird time (then again, everything about cancer has been weird). </p><p>During chemo I was getting infusions of two chemotherapy drugs (taxotere+carboplatin) and two her2 targeted drugs (herceptin + perjeta). We think my cancer is all gone, but there's always the risk of stray cancer cells floating around my body, waiting to come back (some people call this state "schroedinger's cancer"), which is why I'm still continuing with more meds. I started back up with herceptin (by itself this time) a few weeks ago, and will keep those up every 3 weeks through about July. I didn't notice any side effects from my first herceptin-only infusion, and hopefully that'll keep up. I'm not a huge fan of returning to the infusion center again, but it's at least a much shorter, easier process than full chemo was.</p><p>Last week I also started my endocrine therapy, taking Tamoxifen which blocks breast tissue from absorbing estrogen. The plan is to take it for 5 years and then we'll reassess. If I'm tolerating it well I may continue taking it for another 5 years, or there may be new data that informs our decisions at that point. I've been a little nervous about taking this drug... many people have no side effects, or mild/tolerable ones. But I've also seen stats indicating that as many as half of the people who start it, stop before finishing their 5-10 year courses because the side effects are too severe and uncomfortable. It's a bizarre experience to be taking it and waiting to see how it affects me. </p><p>One of the stranger aspects of processing this whole "I had cancer" thing (still getting used to using that past tense), is figuring out how to even frame the story in my head. There's a part of me that tries to minimize it.... Like, yes, I had cancer, I went through chemo, it was kinda horrific, my breast was amputated, BUT I was only ever stage 1, my cancer was always highly curable. I wasn't <i>really</i> in danger of like, <i>dying</i>, right? My case was so much less severe than so many other people's. I have the luxury of putting cancer treatment behind me eventually, and objectively speaking I have good odds to not have to go through any of this again. It was just a thing, I got through it, and now I'm ok. No biggie. Right?</p><p>And then another part of my brain is like HOLY FUCK, I had <i>FUCKING CANCER</i>. And it could still COME BACK?!?!? What the fuck do I even DO with that information?? I don't know that I'll ever fully wrap my head around all this. </p><p>Fun fact: depending on what studies you look at, what factors are accounted for, etc, my risk of recurrence over the next 5-20+ years seems to be somewhere between 5% and 25+%. Those numbers could certainly look a whole lot worse, but they're still far from comforting. Especially when my brain plays funny games like "well you already had the statistically unlikely thing happen, what's to stop that from happening again?" Also, whether rational or not, while I don't think cancer is going to kill me in the short term, I have much less of an expectation of living till old age. That doesn't necessarily feel scary to say, it just kinda feels like a pragmatic take? There's the risk of my cancer coming back, plus the increased risk of other things (other kinds of cancers, cardiac issues, etc) that are increased somewhat by the meds I'm taking to keep the breast cancer away. </p><p>Anyway. So, yeah. It's a weird time. Sometimes I feel close to back to "normal," and other times I very much do not. I feel so much better than I did a few months ago, but I'm also still tired and in some sort of pain/discomfort a lot of the time (my joints feel like they aged 30 years all of a sudden). There are still weird chemo side effects that are lingering, months afterwards. I'm trying to be patient with myself about it all, knowing that this sort of healing takes a long time and is often non-linear. </p>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-87733399384578810312024-02-16T13:47:00.000-08:002024-02-16T13:47:57.163-08:00and then I randomly brought home a new cat<p> So we have a new kitty, her name is Maya and she's goooorrgeeeoussssssssss. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PLJaP9rUlbmT_aEbTe9LAJfZjRgV9qzUpQP4CdtWPT8vZsN6WYVZ21d76Yr8uVDogXe3itHS3OcK7yD2W6N8pvNWJv3ZPRu2twc42XfuL_WthuOvJmMG50FcpgXOpqECWvtXO38LRzTkLE_JXuI7bUMvbvsXXkPaRoGRDggku5MRUoDSfrUc/s3500/IMG_7792_VSCO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3500" data-original-width="2573" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PLJaP9rUlbmT_aEbTe9LAJfZjRgV9qzUpQP4CdtWPT8vZsN6WYVZ21d76Yr8uVDogXe3itHS3OcK7yD2W6N8pvNWJv3ZPRu2twc42XfuL_WthuOvJmMG50FcpgXOpqECWvtXO38LRzTkLE_JXuI7bUMvbvsXXkPaRoGRDggku5MRUoDSfrUc/w470-h640/IMG_7792_VSCO.jpg" width="470" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I've had the equivalent of baby fever but for getting a cat, for months. Fairly intensely. Part of it has been legitimately missing having a multi-cat household. It's been over two years since Sierra passed away, and then we got our dog Cocoa and he took up a lot of time/space/attention. But he's now almost 2 years old, and I've really missed the feline energy (especially since Nev tends to be more aloof these days anyway). </span></div><p>(Also, I think I really wanted more cuddly animal comfort and entertainment during the hard months of chemo)</p><p>I at least knew better than to bring home a new animal while in the actual middle of chemo. So what did I do instead? I waited till I was just barely over a month past my mastectomy, and a few days after my mom (and all her assistance) had flown back home again, to bring home this little darling. What can I say, I saw her photo on a rehoming group on facebook and couldn't quite help myself. In my defense I think when you've had cancer you're maybe allowed some irrational impulse decisions. </p><p>In my dreamy-eyed state I had very optimistic expectations for how easily she would adjust to life in her new household. She had been calm, confident, and very outgoing when I met her in her previous home, I figured she'd enjoy the novelty and more playmates here. I set up a room for her to be in separate from the rest of the house, brought her home, let her out of her carrier, and watched her promptly slink under the dresser. That much was expected. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKsJ5U5wGx-wClSxusIgYOcwutcalUBVyQL2R2htjzRqPe0psqzMeMqtWbyZ3Rz_d558020cL8VLm7FCDnseSsfX7neTEDJf8K82PNtB2QLGp74xBDlbzBOF91W_SBpUdbxQPVM3gvEDonSV9JqwcnUHcMY8yE6_mn0fGEnvLKWd78F_4Gq9Lr/s916/FullSizeRender_VSCO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="828" data-original-width="916" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKsJ5U5wGx-wClSxusIgYOcwutcalUBVyQL2R2htjzRqPe0psqzMeMqtWbyZ3Rz_d558020cL8VLm7FCDnseSsfX7neTEDJf8K82PNtB2QLGp74xBDlbzBOF91W_SBpUdbxQPVM3gvEDonSV9JqwcnUHcMY8yE6_mn0fGEnvLKWd78F_4Gq9Lr/w400-h361/FullSizeRender_VSCO.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>What I hadn't anticipated, was her proceeding to spend 95% of her entire first week hiding out under that dresser or in the closet. As the days dragged on and she continued to seem to nervous, I started to worry. She was warming up to me, but ran and hid if she even heard anyone else. Was she too stressed out in our household? Was I doing enough to help her adjust? Meanwhile, I was also adjusting to getting back into "normal" life. With my mom returning back home, I picked back up on a lot of the household tasks and responsibilities she'd shouldered during my recovery. In some ways I've been very glad to return to a more normal routine and be able to do the things. But also, it's been... a little overwhelming, and exhausting. I had read so many others talk about this aspect of cancer recovery, and was still somehow surprised by being faced with it. And I'd chosen to add on to it the complex task of helping a scared kitty adjust to a house with more people and animals than she'd been used to for her previous 4 years of living. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFks6KAnQjQHTZnKaajUGeH57dTG7md-vmbFvpkyXknNZ66iepYulviYfxhLP0WUHqXAvS0tVK978LI3-SrMwaHUOgN2KntP1IjIk1xEVaxeHhzzjtmAKIuLaUqGetCi33IYeJLSsLgWG8WmrfH-6Rv2qBj5clWogs_PfGEKnagtuOPxP63avO/s2664/76AC9E1C-5A19-4B29-B9A3-B78431B7DDCA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2664" data-original-width="2664" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFks6KAnQjQHTZnKaajUGeH57dTG7md-vmbFvpkyXknNZ66iepYulviYfxhLP0WUHqXAvS0tVK978LI3-SrMwaHUOgN2KntP1IjIk1xEVaxeHhzzjtmAKIuLaUqGetCi33IYeJLSsLgWG8WmrfH-6Rv2qBj5clWogs_PfGEKnagtuOPxP63avO/w640-h640/76AC9E1C-5A19-4B29-B9A3-B78431B7DDCA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>I started to wonder if maybe I had rushed things and made a mistake. And yet, I felt like she kinda belonged here. The other day I walked into her room, and she immediately ran out to greet me and ask for pets. That melted my heart into a neat little puddle. She has since turned a corner, seeming much more comfortable and brave. She likes me a lot and has even curled up in my lap several times. She no longer runs and hides at the first sight or sound of any other members of my household. She's even had a few encounters with Cocoa (separated by a gate) where she kinda hisses at him but stands her ground and doesn't run off to hide (Cocoa, meanwhile, stands still, his tail wagging at 60mph, really, really wanting to play with this new friend but he knows, through his experiences with Nev, to give her some space). </p><p>Nev seems unbothered and only mildly curious about this new inhabitant. I'm in no rush, wanting to give everyone plenty of time to get used to each other. Maya is still mostly confined to her separate room, and we'll slowly start letting her venture out more and have more interactions with Nev and Cocoa. I think she will be a sweet and fun addition to our household dynamics once she's used to everyone and everything. I'm looking forward to that. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIaycq4VvUfBdBiP1-f43SoPHdldy4LUEshuri8eIjaF1rany00lMd_pXKhiXfpLFsfGEbUblCQNNF7LdNaTg79yD_MAEgluHd4VySf3ocqoDi9x8hJlsrEbiIrMYWmwnfxABF8gAMW8VokHjNrUAwib2Byvz88qg-FzeAD7kF_tTIarjOa2b/s3030/IMG_7819_VSCO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3030" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIaycq4VvUfBdBiP1-f43SoPHdldy4LUEshuri8eIjaF1rany00lMd_pXKhiXfpLFsfGEbUblCQNNF7LdNaTg79yD_MAEgluHd4VySf3ocqoDi9x8hJlsrEbiIrMYWmwnfxABF8gAMW8VokHjNrUAwib2Byvz88qg-FzeAD7kF_tTIarjOa2b/w640-h638/IMG_7819_VSCO.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuQKDifXTC3g1BiJ-mPM5RLuBGLPF6KqHK-ijqxDzEXayMyKWWbkbJturrrK2cmH3XtYYLyG-ofNtS5GB1w1LungPaGNXysb7PAJOD07pHdLh5W9Q3nl-zWRECqOTdunt_IA9wZ1smof6ALt3ZWKjYc46pF6FbBvIt4NovuNNr_fETLIZAFON/s3475/IMG_7830_VSCO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3475" data-original-width="3008" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuQKDifXTC3g1BiJ-mPM5RLuBGLPF6KqHK-ijqxDzEXayMyKWWbkbJturrrK2cmH3XtYYLyG-ofNtS5GB1w1LungPaGNXysb7PAJOD07pHdLh5W9Q3nl-zWRECqOTdunt_IA9wZ1smof6ALt3ZWKjYc46pF6FbBvIt4NovuNNr_fETLIZAFON/w554-h640/IMG_7830_VSCO.jpg" width="554" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtstzy4ycXz2f-TKh0TEhoVukbXtPdT0EBQciutumJj1tPOGGGTJrbI_XSfRP2UHnfHh7ySfP7g5WLb5Afb0GQepZrVocXFl4txQPnsqkWxNcCuKeeh7IXX9c7L5Us8oOI2CYEz5qD63nU3ppDiiuA4D6VdvEgpvcGOOb8MlRb29OPfS71rePe/s3088/IMG_7763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtstzy4ycXz2f-TKh0TEhoVukbXtPdT0EBQciutumJj1tPOGGGTJrbI_XSfRP2UHnfHh7ySfP7g5WLb5Afb0GQepZrVocXFl4txQPnsqkWxNcCuKeeh7IXX9c7L5Us8oOI2CYEz5qD63nU3ppDiiuA4D6VdvEgpvcGOOb8MlRb29OPfS71rePe/w480-h640/IMG_7763.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-66491324888459193282024-02-15T13:40:00.000-08:002024-02-15T13:40:07.147-08:00when a sidewalk access cover looks like something from a studio ghibli film<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbja_KucrVwMdgiJDnjweSj64Qe0SheBqZ7fIZmXvMgnIVuBjb0QACkkPcf0y8YNkvhIwK_oAqO_rtAMgy2wbvJEDbG4x5e9wttaMDVXfj3mJJaeyD3gtW4SmLdp9qkcaX8ITMeByk-4QM55XN8zofj0HfJ3EF7SMXrbiuHGNVZnALJa0PLmWw/s3029/IMG_7784_VSCO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3029" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbja_KucrVwMdgiJDnjweSj64Qe0SheBqZ7fIZmXvMgnIVuBjb0QACkkPcf0y8YNkvhIwK_oAqO_rtAMgy2wbvJEDbG4x5e9wttaMDVXfj3mJJaeyD3gtW4SmLdp9qkcaX8ITMeByk-4QM55XN8zofj0HfJ3EF7SMXrbiuHGNVZnALJa0PLmWw/w638-h640/IMG_7784_VSCO.jpg" width="638" /></a></div><br /><p><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-72917491757513775402024-02-10T12:59:00.000-08:002024-02-10T12:59:53.541-08:00how I found out I had breast cancer<p>I vividly remember the exact moment when I started to worry about the lump I'd found in my right breast. It wasn't, oddly, the moment I first found it, a couple weeks before, while sitting on my sister's futon in Maui watching tv surrounded by her cats. (At that time I wasn't even convinced I'd really found anything worth noticing, and told myself I'd call my doctor if I still felt it in a few days or a week) </p><p>It wasn't even when I went in for a breast exam and the nurse practitioner recommended getting imaging done. She seemed a little out of her depth and it seemed standard to get it checked out, whatever this was. </p><p>The next day I was driving when I got a phone call. I saw the number pop up with the "healthcare" label, and I knew it must be Kaiser calling to schedule my the mammogram and ultrasound, and immediately pulled off into the nearest parking lot to answer it so I could safely look at my calendar. We settled on a date and time (for about a week from then) and it was as I ended the call that suddenly the dread and anxiety dawned on me. Shit, ok. I had something worrisome enough to get imaging done. And, I was either getting better at finding the lump, or it was getting bigger (or both), because it felt more noticeable each time I checked to see if it was still there. </p><p>(I drive by this parking lot all the time, and think of this moment every time I pass by it)</p><p>I hadn't mentioned the lump to anybody yet. I didn't want to tell anyone, because that would mean it was Something To Tell. Plus, I didn't want to worry people in the very likely event it turned out to be nothing. </p><p>But... I also realized I kinda needed to tell someone. </p><p>Now, something I'm learning about the ways my emotions sometimes work is that, for better or worse, I can do a decent job of just kinda putting my worries/fear/anxiety/etc into a box and setting it aside when I need to. I don't know that this is healthy (particularly when I don't realize I'm doing it)... however it certainly is useful, especially when I have people I'm taking care of, for whom I need to stay calm and collected. During that week or so between the scheduling call and imaging appointment, I still felt relatively calm, at least on the surface... but I could feel this tension and worry below the surface, not really prepared to deal with it but knowing I would need to eventually. And I think I realized I needed at least someone to provide some support, to not be alone with this feeling. </p><p>I had plans to visit a couple of dear friends, and as soon as I made the decision to tell them about this, I could feel the damn beginning to burst. I managed to hold it together just long enough to get out the words, "So a couple weeks ago I found a lump..." and then promptly I burst into tears. Bless their souls, they held me and let me talk and cry and get it all out and were the exact kind of support I needed right then. They did a lot of that over the coming months, and I'm eternally grateful for that space and support. </p><p>Confession: at this point I wasn't even really thinking about the C-word (at least not consciously...see above about putting my fears in a box to not deal with them). Sure, I knew that was a possibility, but I also knew that the vast majority of lumps that get imaged and even biopsied are benign, and it seemed really, really unlikely and not worth (consciously) considering. What I kept thinking about instead was the <a href="https://mightymarce.blogspot.com/2012/11/warning-moving-to-new-hampshire-may-be.html" target="_blank">desmoid tumor I dealt with</a> a little over 10 years ago. That wasn't technically cancer, but it was an aggressive growth so needed to be cut out, and ensuring good margins meant cutting out a decent chunk of my ab muscles leaving a noticeable concave spot. So I kept thinking about that happening to my boob, which wasn't terribly ample to begin with, and having a big scar, and just feeling scared and overwhelmed about possibly needing surgery and recovery, and of my breast being deformed as a result. </p><p>Is it weird that I was worried about vanity instead of, like, properly fearing for my life? Was that my brain protecting me, not letting me go go there and face the actual scary shit? I don't know. But that's where I was at. </p><p>When I went in for my mammogram, they had these like one room dressing room stalls where they had me change into the cloth gown, and had me wait inbetween things. I did my mammogram, which was normal enough (as far as I could tell, it was my second ever), then I went into the room to wait a bit. Then they took me to a small dark room to do the ultrasound. </p><p>They checked the spot with the lump, and then they spent a lot of time looking at something in my armpit which confused me because that's not where my lump was, but I didn't ask about it. Eventually a doctor came in and said that they wanted to do a biopsy of the lump, and of one of my lymph nodes. I asked if I needed to make an appointment for the biopsy, and she said, "No, we're going to do it now, today." </p><p>I still didn't know to be scared. I thought that was maybe standard practice. </p><p>I went back into the little waiting/changing room and sat there for a long time, I don't know how long it really was but probably close to an hour, maybe more, just sitting there in my gown, mindlessly browsing on my phone, while they scrambled to find someone who could perform a biopsy on me because it was, apparently to them (but unbeknown to me), <i>that</i> urgent. They did keep coming back to check on me and reassure me that the biopsy was "just to be safe." I believed them. </p><p>Finally they led me to yet another room and had me lie down, and injected me with the numbing shots which hurt like hell for about 30 seconds and then blessedly didn't feel like anything at all after that. The same nurse had been with me for all the things that morning and she was very sweet. The doctor explained what he was doing and why and went through all the things, and at the end he asked if I had any questions. I almost said no, but then I built up the courage to ask the question I'd been refusing to freak out about... "So, is it common to take a sample from the lymph node, as well? Is this a bad sign?" </p><p>The doctor paused and looked at me and said, "It's not uncommon, but I'm going to be straight with you. The lump and your node both look pretty suspicious. I think you should be prepared for it not to be good news." </p><p>Well, fuck. </p><p>The very sweet nurse handed me a tissue. </p><p>I thanked him for his honesty. I appreciated it, really. I'd rather just know the hard thing and move on to figuring out how to deal with it. He put some steri-strips on the biopsy sites (which ended up bleeding through and onto my bra, lovely), I dried my eyes, thanked them for everything, got dressed, and made it back to my car before I sobbed, finally opening up to the reality that I Might Have Cancer. </p><p>I think it was after that that I went home and started googling everything I could find about breast cancer (which is usually not advised, but honestly information calms me so it mostly helped...? I also wanted to know what they were talking about when they called with biopsy results). I also finally told Zach. Before that point, I'd wanted to keep this worry separate from my normal daily bubble as much as I could. But suddenly, the probabilities were different than what I'd believed that morning, and if this biopsy came back positive he and I had a lot to prepare for and deal with. </p><p>Here's a funny thing about the story, and part of why I appreciated the biopsy doctor's candor. After that biopsy I was about 80% convinced I had cancer, and that it was in my lymph nodes, which isn't awful but makes for a trickier prognosis. So when I got the call a couple days later confirming that yes, I had cancer, BUT!!! my lymph node was clear, it honest to god felt like a relief. The worst was confirmed, except it was slightly better news than I'd been expecting. Expectations make such a difference sometimes. </p><p>I first felt the lump sometime in late-ish June. The imaging and biopsy happened on July 10. I got the call just two days later, July 12. I met with my surgeon and oncologist just over a week after that, to talk about tests and results and chemo and surgery and what decisions we would make when. I had an MRI, another biopsy, port install, so much bloodwork, and then started chemo on Aug 1, just under three weeks from the day I got the call with my diagnosis. Looking back, it all happened at lightning speed... At the time, of course, the whole process felt like it took an eternity, waiting for each piece of new information and trying to figure out just how bad this was going to be. I'm grateful for the speed and efficiency of the whole process, and how every doctor, nurse, and tech I encountered were all kind and helpful and patient with my questions. They helped make a shitty time a bit more manageable. </p>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-7286444597992791712024-02-07T10:16:00.000-08:002024-02-07T10:16:46.518-08:00seeing the world through a lens<p> One of my favorite things about a photography habit is the way it changes how I view the world. When I'm regularly taking photos, my eye naturally looks for interesting details and compositions to shoot. This sounds sappy, but it makes me appreciate the small beauties as I move about the world. It also becomes this great feedback loop, where the more times I notice something pretty/cute/unusual/whatever and stop to take a photo of it, and like that photo, the more I'll notice those things, and so on. </p><p>The past few years I kinda stopped taking pictures. I'm not really sure why. It turns out that same feedback loop works the other way, too (at least for me)... I stopped taking pictures regularly, and it started feeling harder to "see" pictures I wanted to take. It's like a muscle that weakens with disuse. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEge6ClJxDBlnV4WC6u05sDu3t_-ikr2TZcR9HxVKbpUJKLyDCjIOeO2B6OWw_AuRjCv_y7TPEkVTJdgj898SXhbbzCUewdwQOLazbHMv3wNG2YTM9XglRxP8UDE4KTs12hKLerwidseodFQnaSSrJF1iykT89m8XQNE4mkPC47atKDtUfyCBj/s3029/IMG_7618_VSCO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3029" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEge6ClJxDBlnV4WC6u05sDu3t_-ikr2TZcR9HxVKbpUJKLyDCjIOeO2B6OWw_AuRjCv_y7TPEkVTJdgj898SXhbbzCUewdwQOLazbHMv3wNG2YTM9XglRxP8UDE4KTs12hKLerwidseodFQnaSSrJF1iykT89m8XQNE4mkPC47atKDtUfyCBj/w638-h640/IMG_7618_VSCO.jpg" width="638" /></a></div><br /><p>I've spent a lot of the last six months stuck at home, thanks to cancer treatment. One piece of advice I kept hearing was to exercise through chemo as much as possible, to help the body recover. This felt laughable to me when so much of the time just walking from my room into the kitchen felt kinda like the equivalent of running a marathon. However, the days I did feel up for going on even a 10 minute walk around the block, felt kinda glorious... just getting out of the house. I made a point to go for a walk on the days when I felt up for it. Walking has also been my main form of exercise while recovering from my mastectomy, aiming for a solid 20+ minutes walk most days. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5oywF5n3_SL-z0itpbp7tCWaOxOSzXnAtzS4wd4VRLgKP33N5skFeNqB6udXCg8xyMYReLVMmWV-5h4LGFE27Ihvl5H-PC67gePSVX0VvSGIHPISKLWRkZsmRmPugrCw_-QoUTWW83DCqXFZt4Jw3fyGPv61CT9evCnDoTl4lE3TyJh4emxCz/s3024/25CB6708-2655-40B3-971A-93CBC3018167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5oywF5n3_SL-z0itpbp7tCWaOxOSzXnAtzS4wd4VRLgKP33N5skFeNqB6udXCg8xyMYReLVMmWV-5h4LGFE27Ihvl5H-PC67gePSVX0VvSGIHPISKLWRkZsmRmPugrCw_-QoUTWW83DCqXFZt4Jw3fyGPv61CT9evCnDoTl4lE3TyJh4emxCz/w640-h640/25CB6708-2655-40B3-971A-93CBC3018167.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>On those walks I've usually had my phone in my pocket. And, I started finding myself pausing here and there to snap a photo. I've felt particularly drawn to spotting plants growing in unusual places (through a fence, in a crack of the sidewalk), feeling inspired by their ability to grow and flourish despite the challenging environment. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMxcIoWY2Ym1JFVX4M-woLD8GfqiKzjoG6cpz4CrjqBfYKUYs6XNefRijsYiRMa2H1bwUnyhmUUKb0VY16Fk4jKBmhXuWeGvYG63Gs5PbwBp7qm-uCN8OPwMbmP1hWHPkkpcyyvLCGk-lAKd_PKjjj2kxVGloEaK4T10ugBDlKoyjt1iWIL24/s3029/IMG_7491_VSCO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3029" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMxcIoWY2Ym1JFVX4M-woLD8GfqiKzjoG6cpz4CrjqBfYKUYs6XNefRijsYiRMa2H1bwUnyhmUUKb0VY16Fk4jKBmhXuWeGvYG63Gs5PbwBp7qm-uCN8OPwMbmP1hWHPkkpcyyvLCGk-lAKd_PKjjj2kxVGloEaK4T10ugBDlKoyjt1iWIL24/w638-h640/IMG_7491_VSCO.jpg" width="638" /></a></div><br /><p>I have always both loved and felt a little frustrated by my phone cameras. Though in their defense, what they lack in ability to control settings they definitely make up for in convenience and ease of use. And that's gotten even better with apps, using apps like Focos or VSCO to play with depth of field and filters. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvQrH2UayP_kl1YMJGAEsD-g6UfwIwjImh77oNQLR1dGXjgO5FemaZV1MVydUudC1u3mhvc8sEh2TjxnSdzAzfyFaRUyC60xRJVo8jVwfJ75u35YMYFyC9DSjsla_1OqMZ6DwJuL1weg7-BWlXAfeTRZ7Tt8wrJxCFPKv-VdfyLS5PRHSZIvX/s1920/BC73E162-A1F3-40B9-91ED-1E1CFD71C290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1917" data-original-width="1920" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvQrH2UayP_kl1YMJGAEsD-g6UfwIwjImh77oNQLR1dGXjgO5FemaZV1MVydUudC1u3mhvc8sEh2TjxnSdzAzfyFaRUyC60xRJVo8jVwfJ75u35YMYFyC9DSjsla_1OqMZ6DwJuL1weg7-BWlXAfeTRZ7Tt8wrJxCFPKv-VdfyLS5PRHSZIvX/w640-h640/BC73E162-A1F3-40B9-91ED-1E1CFD71C290.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>It feels really good to get back into a photography habit... and, particularly, to notice that side effect coming back, of noticing the way I'm seeing things be different and feeling more inspired. </p>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-84103945014585379012024-02-05T13:50:00.000-08:002024-02-05T13:50:34.424-08:00in praise of solo travel<p> Last spring I took myself on a solo weekend trip to Washington, DC. It was sort of on a whim... Zach, the boys, and I had been in DC in 2019 and touring the museums with them was great, but the boys have less stamina for that than I do (even when cool dinosaur bones are involved), and I wanted to go back. I realized I had never taken a trip completely by myself, for myself-- not to visit family or friends, or for an event/conference, but just because I wanted to go someplace and where I got to decide my own itinerary. </p><p>The trip was everything I hoped it would be. My airbnb was adorable, in the cutest of neighborhoods, with great options for walking and getting around easily. I ate great food. The weather was perfect. I got to decide exactly what I wanted to, when I wanted to do it. I spent a whole day at the Museum of Natural History (the first solid half of it just geeking out over the Hall of Fossils, not having to worry that anyone else was bored or wanting to do something else). I visited the museum of Native American history, and several of the art museums. I spent time thinking and journaling and processing some things I hadn't given myself space for before then. I felt inspired in ways I hadn't in years. It honestly felt healing and soul-nourishing. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2NPIxrOM1EYi3J_gMKqy2PRoP9J89Y7WeY2k-VDhbSBaH-Le81ddSI2cnWtr8d4xz8mJ_wO2W4SSqB__tBYLJd0pCcnyUz3F1eli-7w9mmVQM3jFwRXOOLcxRm7MMGet6nMzL_6uY-Jx1wgDc0BDyVeSm4ErF2oUSz05fcL6dZ7X_nRy-dkg/s3093/F965F3B2-63E0-487F-89CA-08F1BE07D200.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3093" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2NPIxrOM1EYi3J_gMKqy2PRoP9J89Y7WeY2k-VDhbSBaH-Le81ddSI2cnWtr8d4xz8mJ_wO2W4SSqB__tBYLJd0pCcnyUz3F1eli-7w9mmVQM3jFwRXOOLcxRm7MMGet6nMzL_6uY-Jx1wgDc0BDyVeSm4ErF2oUSz05fcL6dZ7X_nRy-dkg/w626-h640/F965F3B2-63E0-487F-89CA-08F1BE07D200.jpg" width="626" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4M1q-TQmGchjjRFfQHZ8RmwRi5JrAUdCGnyMmuBSfnMydtB0VG8OL4yf4jyPZ-jt4COkagKiwTtvbhsM682LVxe4nAwYKehASbqEvB9PgHWkeXINk8JlnOoUOd7zKnnYakcW046YbYEk0_VBiA3VV2_9wUmfS5g0ekURNEkli-2iPQlRrMmF/s4032/CCD8381F-28A4-41C9-B667-E5AA083E4997.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4M1q-TQmGchjjRFfQHZ8RmwRi5JrAUdCGnyMmuBSfnMydtB0VG8OL4yf4jyPZ-jt4COkagKiwTtvbhsM682LVxe4nAwYKehASbqEvB9PgHWkeXINk8JlnOoUOd7zKnnYakcW046YbYEk0_VBiA3VV2_9wUmfS5g0ekURNEkli-2iPQlRrMmF/w480-h640/CCD8381F-28A4-41C9-B667-E5AA083E4997.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Qe3IEZULj3EI4lDz7VaV-RTpnI5nsKpZu5jU7SBf-w7EY_7YV8FSWWm21cR_KtJ6hZhCN3XG-RF27uLVwmbCawnUEqQSoRe8YL4S7kGnpnsDJoPJcVICrpU38BQP0o3WcfKK5kM7SbZ_AjYK_qHK6PcSCBREm0WXcnzJs086EldWHMisi_Kn/s4032/EEAE74C6-05B8-45C3-8345-F9770DDC637C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Qe3IEZULj3EI4lDz7VaV-RTpnI5nsKpZu5jU7SBf-w7EY_7YV8FSWWm21cR_KtJ6hZhCN3XG-RF27uLVwmbCawnUEqQSoRe8YL4S7kGnpnsDJoPJcVICrpU38BQP0o3WcfKK5kM7SbZ_AjYK_qHK6PcSCBREm0WXcnzJs086EldWHMisi_Kn/w480-h640/EEAE74C6-05B8-45C3-8345-F9770DDC637C.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbE5G3G75szppRllHG1bxFYOdU1_BSTuq3pMm_WV2w52kAZZHkpn9v21WxyvJEnltt1iaiGX1z-ye3vGfAGGDN3k8E9tvzbvHeqSWP5UGbFjNIy8csQCZYoBdDETMWIFHUZskbZNI_mZ2eLy4b5rRNDG0mOf0s93U_oNyFEEIOQyKXh142iCC6/s4032/23668006-166A-42B5-A4AC-1149F205A8C2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbE5G3G75szppRllHG1bxFYOdU1_BSTuq3pMm_WV2w52kAZZHkpn9v21WxyvJEnltt1iaiGX1z-ye3vGfAGGDN3k8E9tvzbvHeqSWP5UGbFjNIy8csQCZYoBdDETMWIFHUZskbZNI_mZ2eLy4b5rRNDG0mOf0s93U_oNyFEEIOQyKXh142iCC6/w480-h640/23668006-166A-42B5-A4AC-1149F205A8C2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>A few weeks after I got back, my sister reached out asking if I wanted to house-and cat-sit in Maui while she and her girlfriend were out of town (she was having trouble finding anyone who had the time and availability, and was asking increasingly wider circles of people). I felt guilty even considering it... I'd <i>just</i> taken a fun solo trip, could I really go away again, for five days just a month later? It felt selfish,. But thankfully Zach and a few others gave me a swift but gentle kick in the pants and permission to accept the offer, since I would be helping her out after all. I was even able to use miles to buy my plane tickets. It's like it was meant to be. </p><p>So I went, and I spent several glorious days enjoying more great food (including the best breakfast sandwich I've ever had), beautiful weather and locations, and hanging out with sweet cuddly kitties. It was a really, really great trip. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQekd7EotyuhG_r3dDEMTfVFWYOsVxuS70FUofasTS17g_g7B8U7DOAEGih_7JntWWL1XtlOrj6eXw9HS6ZSW115T7NDrcfexqCrA2KSpphnwuVeRV5dyxkQeLYBtYxQBEEpoGBpXMstccFyDpEHbB-ZXTFPVWNytpFvRclZXvayb5_aniACRn/s1440/7B539263-C12F-4420-9B05-44DB6DBF2188.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQekd7EotyuhG_r3dDEMTfVFWYOsVxuS70FUofasTS17g_g7B8U7DOAEGih_7JntWWL1XtlOrj6eXw9HS6ZSW115T7NDrcfexqCrA2KSpphnwuVeRV5dyxkQeLYBtYxQBEEpoGBpXMstccFyDpEHbB-ZXTFPVWNytpFvRclZXvayb5_aniACRn/w640-h640/7B539263-C12F-4420-9B05-44DB6DBF2188.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6kf0ngi1gfM25w1bd3uXfDY32qEGOzt-Y3-6UWm0079q1o9O1fkDuGG2rV5FNjIM7KorUzlk_aUAKQg0FdNei62dpVNxIORos_cTysa72qMohSHzxNfVvK_9qYvLcISQhQToIGOkOg_VA90Z975wrsLRLbS4SWMEmIKcaywe4Mh5ZgALzpFE/s1440/68192CCF-D708-4AA8-B0DC-7E023CA8235E.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6kf0ngi1gfM25w1bd3uXfDY32qEGOzt-Y3-6UWm0079q1o9O1fkDuGG2rV5FNjIM7KorUzlk_aUAKQg0FdNei62dpVNxIORos_cTysa72qMohSHzxNfVvK_9qYvLcISQhQToIGOkOg_VA90Z975wrsLRLbS4SWMEmIKcaywe4Mh5ZgALzpFE/w640-h640/68192CCF-D708-4AA8-B0DC-7E023CA8235E.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHtPSwK-mMJCYxMecfhLGdKDBPTfmXrC6b2qdATQGZe8UEVNHrU7b86FFG53-B1dE5pcxsDoJPwpeZxVMl1o0xzVse4rMczIseFHEAmCPu3ii4B1p3b7ztZVjTKvIaDSHc8LhFU6LrHyg1n0KtPWbWk3X-jQf5QMrUAZYL-9bl1f8SnoLZlrdL/s3107/6E622A4D-E8C3-41A8-9927-CAF53642A122.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3107" data-original-width="3107" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHtPSwK-mMJCYxMecfhLGdKDBPTfmXrC6b2qdATQGZe8UEVNHrU7b86FFG53-B1dE5pcxsDoJPwpeZxVMl1o0xzVse4rMczIseFHEAmCPu3ii4B1p3b7ztZVjTKvIaDSHc8LhFU6LrHyg1n0KtPWbWk3X-jQf5QMrUAZYL-9bl1f8SnoLZlrdL/w640-h640/6E622A4D-E8C3-41A8-9927-CAF53642A122.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I know it's a huge privilege to get to go on these vacations. I think part of what felt significant and healing about these trips was simply the fact that I said yes to them and (mostly) managed to quiet the voice that told me to feel guilty about them. As a caregiver it's often been hard to prioritize myself, and especially for things that can feel like frivolous "wants." </p><p>Life is strange, and sometimes you get weird twists. About a month after getting back from Maui, as I sat in a room with two doctors explaining my breast cancer and discussing options for chemo and surgery, realizing the ways my life was going to be completely turned upside down for the next months or years, I felt very, very glad that I took advantage of those opportunities for fun and leisure when they came my way. </p>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-18196595918484151872024-02-04T13:05:00.000-08:002024-02-04T13:16:48.886-08:00hello, old friend<p>It's been over four years since my last blog post, and close to 10 years since I blogged with any regularity. That's...a long time. I've missed it. There are many reasons why I stopped writing, some of which I can blame on things like the death of Google Reader (I'll always mourn you), and life changes that meant that the sorts of things I'd be driven to write about were no longer topics I felt comfortable talking about publicly (eg. kids getting older and suddenly those parenting stories feel like more of a violation of their privacy and autonomy). </p><p>Then last summer I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and there have been so many things about dealing with this diagnosis that have surprised me that I feel a drive to a) write about it as a way to process my emotions and experiences, and b) do so publicly to share my perspective in case that's useful to anyone else. I've often believed in making the invisible visible, it's a big part of why I wrote so honestly about parenting when my kids were little, and I'm feeling a similar impulse now. I've always appreciated reading other people's honest stories. It inspires me to put out into the world more of what I want to see. </p><p>(I've also been taking pictures a bit more again, and may share those here as well in addition to instagram)</p><p>Over the past 6 months I posted updates about my cancer treatment on a <a href="https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/marcyh/journal">Caring Bridge site</a>, which was useful for that time but I think now I'll port those posts over here for the sake of continuity. Going back to "old school blogging" (it pained me a little to type that) feels a bit quaint and outdated, but I've got such a soft spot for it and, regardless of how many people read this, I like having this written record here. </p>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-62671117751306965902024-01-12T14:06:00.000-08:002024-02-04T14:08:41.168-08:00Ding Dong the Cancer's Gone (as far as we can tell)Cancer update: as far as we can tell, I don’t have any anymore 🙌🏻 squeewooooot!<br><br>
I had my mastectomy just over a week ago. I’m healing well, resting lots, getting a bit of walking and movement in here and there, got my drain out today!!! Having a bit of pain/discomfort but a lot less than what I’d feared. Very grateful.<br><br>
Pathology report came back and showed I had a complete response AKA there was no cancer left in my boob, the chemo killed it all! Which is awesome. The hell of chemo was worth it. Statistically this means my chances of recurrence are that much lower.<br><br>
Since I had a mastectomy + clear lymph nodes + complete response, I don’t need radiation (yay!).
I still have more treatments ahead of me… I’ll keep doing infusions every 3 weeks, though of only Herceptin from now on which should have few if any side effects. I’ll meet with my oncologist in about a month to talk about hormone therapy (which may have more side effects but I’m trying to stay optimistic). Also, surgery left me with limited range of motion in my right arm (expected), so I’ll soon start PT to get that back.<br><br>
But, the hardest parts of active treatment (chemo + surgery) are behind me. I’m proud of myself for getting through it, and I never, ever want to go through that again. I’m slooooowly starting to feel a tiny bit more like myself… I have fuzzy hair starting to grow on my head, and teensy baby eyelashes peeking out on my lids. Energy levels come and go but slowly improving. I’m eager/anxious to get back to some semblance of “normal” (or a new normal, after all this) and also a little overwhelmed by how much it will likely take to get there. But, hey, one step at a time.Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-26234488786271105322024-01-01T14:02:00.000-08:002024-02-04T14:06:28.185-08:00Hello, 2024I'm filling this first day of the year with activities I want to do more of in 2024-- a short walk with the dog; taking myself out to breakfast + journaling; a hike with pretty views, taking pictures along the way. This afternoon will probably involve some quiet reading on the couch and probably a nap, because a 3 mile hike might have been a bit ambitious (considering that very recently, a walk to the end of the block felt like my equivalent of running a marathon). Though I'm damn proud of myself for having done it.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEf4UTCuE9I_muT1-Yi4guZQj9p-_Ujw9HKtOfrMX2LhzJIYjYCkkq5A9Awso6w2UxViCRPAH0050gnBBtnVEP8m2aFjUwXuRGehfM8qLz4IgovQXewGI4sbMbmkGzv1Vq9VXOaDm8msasX5LiNsFBgXxF4XTO-drCXsqFNbNX5uu22Tes-tAC/s300/fe8e65ce-a28d-3341-9fea-d0576adc71f4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEf4UTCuE9I_muT1-Yi4guZQj9p-_Ujw9HKtOfrMX2LhzJIYjYCkkq5A9Awso6w2UxViCRPAH0050gnBBtnVEP8m2aFjUwXuRGehfM8qLz4IgovQXewGI4sbMbmkGzv1Vq9VXOaDm8msasX5LiNsFBgXxF4XTO-drCXsqFNbNX5uu22Tes-tAC/s16000/fe8e65ce-a28d-3341-9fea-d0576adc71f4.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>It's a strange day with a lot of strange feelings. My surgery is tomorrow, and I can't really put my feelings about that into words other than to say that the whole thing feels just... utterly bizarre. I feel such deep gratitude about just being up for doing the things I did this morning, after months of feeling so shitty and having no energy. And yet there's also a part of me that is so sad that such simple activities like going for a walk and out to breakfast feel like milestone accomplishments. It's a far cry from the me of 6+ months ago.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tXab8N_9QrJ76fVhiQfgQBYOqxlggz88yV_fZUeMwpeUeJ2yaOGI2KowKcORGHQ5FBtDak78nWCvLw9TmM4UF9zyYX9Hq4sfaW-vgkKLkZw40RJ-2kVoYCtjNWAUqe-JG5Pko7fA4zizH4gnj5iSSYfxpVMiKq9WdZSN3ICelOd63Fq1BP-T/s300/d568149a-4a7b-3f7e-9033-c00dae24c0bd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tXab8N_9QrJ76fVhiQfgQBYOqxlggz88yV_fZUeMwpeUeJ2yaOGI2KowKcORGHQ5FBtDak78nWCvLw9TmM4UF9zyYX9Hq4sfaW-vgkKLkZw40RJ-2kVoYCtjNWAUqe-JG5Pko7fA4zizH4gnj5iSSYfxpVMiKq9WdZSN3ICelOd63Fq1BP-T/s16000/d568149a-4a7b-3f7e-9033-c00dae24c0bd.jpg" /></a></div><br /> Many things can be true at the same time. I'm holding space for the grief I feel about all this, while also allowing myself to celebrate the legitimate milestones on this path to recovery and figuring out my new normal. Here's to a lot of grace and patience in the year ahead.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipfMMov2zUYUOMOUvCATJyQthy8XHZwd8nO46E-BuuIX3PgB3Hy5Sd7CNReuTTXhlfAcxaT8GgfA3CW1R-Qsu8f-NE1NSGhuzaQHhO3jztYvw2SIxT9jbiLpWe0c53p366MBhs3Wer6NKL9OcRkuB8zj_rEdfi1SPTxWOiBU0oved6prIPou6R/s300/8ede0ebc-896f-3da4-b6f2-d3185e4c5374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipfMMov2zUYUOMOUvCATJyQthy8XHZwd8nO46E-BuuIX3PgB3Hy5Sd7CNReuTTXhlfAcxaT8GgfA3CW1R-Qsu8f-NE1NSGhuzaQHhO3jztYvw2SIxT9jbiLpWe0c53p366MBhs3Wer6NKL9OcRkuB8zj_rEdfi1SPTxWOiBU0oved6prIPou6R/s16000/8ede0ebc-896f-3da4-b6f2-d3185e4c5374.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-91285628732990724822023-12-05T13:59:00.000-08:002024-02-04T14:02:30.484-08:00DONE with chemo! Next up: mastectomyI finished chemo about two weeks ago (!!!), and am feeling surprisingly good already afterwards. I'm still having some mouth/taste weirdness, but energy-wise I feel better than I think I have in a while? I'd expected to be more worn down by the cumulative effects of chemo but maybe my body is just so happy to be done with it and not have to go through any more cycles.<br><br>
And, great news-- the chemo did its job. My tumor has shrunk so much that it's not detectable by breast exam or ultrasound, which also means it likely killed any stray cancer cells that may have been floating around anywhere else. <br><br>
On a mental/emotional note, one interesting aspect of everything is that dealing with all the chemo side effects kinda forced me to be micro-focused on getting through each moment/day, one step at a time. As I've started feeling better and putting chemo behind me, it opens up space in my head for thinking about the bigger picture and what all comes next, which can be a little overwhelming. The next big step ahead is surgery. I've been trying to mentally prepare for that the past few months but all of a sudden a lot of big feelings have been coming up about it... about the surgery itself, about what the recovery will be like (how painful, how long will it take to do normal things, etc), about what it will be like to get used to what my body will look like afterwards. <br><br>
I met with my surgeon today, and am actually feeling a lot calmer. He was very reassuring and optimistic, easing a lot of my fears. I'll be getting a mastectomy and sentinel node biopsy in about a month (Jan 2nd, 2024). About a week afterwards I should get the surgical pathology report back, which will tell us things like if any lymph nodes had any evidence of cancer, and if the tumor really is all gone or if there were any residual living cancer cells left. That information will then guide my next treatment options. <br><br>
In a way I think this next month ahead, waiting for surgery, will be a strange space to be in. Part of me wants it to hurry up and just get it over with already, rather than spending the next several weeks anticipating and thinking about what-if's. But I'm also glad for a month break from treatments. I'm brainstorming ways to really make the most of this time... I want to take advantage of not being so exhausted all the time and get to do the things I've had to put off these past several months. And, hopefully, staying busy will keep me from overthinking about surgery too much... Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-41733795238733209702023-11-02T13:55:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:59:36.345-08:00Three Month ChemoversaryI started chemotherapy 3 months ago, yesterday. I honestly can't remember if I even mentally marked the 1 or 2 month marks of chemo, but this one stands out to me for some reason. I think up till recently I was so focused on looking forward and trying to get through the chemo, and just didn't (bother? want to? couldn't?) look backwards to mark the passage of time behind me. <br><br>
A lot of survivors mark the day of hearing their cancer diagnosis as their cancerversary. I think for me finding out about having cancer felt like it came in trickles (first finding the lump; then the imaging and biopsy where the doctor didn't exactly come out and say "it's cancer" but warned me to expect not-great news, so that I left that appointment already beginning to process the worst; and then finally the phone call that confirmed it two days later). But August 1st, the day of my first chemo infusion, is a date that sticks in my mind. For one thing, it's an easy date to remember, but also it marks a stark Before vs After in a way that feels more visceral and real than even hearing the biopsy results. I suspect it's the date I'll note each year as it passes. <br><br>
I have some complicated feelings about the usual "battle/warrior" cancer metaphors. It's a little difficult to envision yourself fighting some brave battle when most of what you're doing is...lying on the couch. It seems more true to say that the drugs are doing the fighting for me, while I passively try to reduce the damage and discomfort in whatever small ways I can, and focus my little energy on resting and passing the time. <br><br>
These days I feel like I'm crawling towards the finish line and it's finally in sight... while knowing full well that the finish line for chemo is only one milestone I need to reach, with still others after it to follow. My final chemo infusion is in two weeks (!!!!). A couple days before that, I'll meet with my surgeon to plan my mastectomy, which will likely be towards the end of December. That pathology report will help determine what further treatment I may need moving forward (for example, radiation). I will need to continue some form of immunotherapy, plus figuring out what kind of hormone therapy I will take and for how long. There's still a long road ahead. But I have no qualms in saying chemo has kinda kicked my ass, these past 3 months have felt like a whole lifetime, and I am very, very relieved to be so close to being done with it.
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-53943616681417857552023-10-15T13:53:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:55:45.247-08:00Along came covid...This week we had a new fun wrench thrown into things… Quinn, Zach, and I all got covid. <br /><br />
Quinn succumbed first, but he had just gotten his cold and flu vaccines a few days before so at first I thought it was side effects from the shots. I finally tested him on Monday, Zach tested positive on Wednesday, and then me on Thursday. So far Donovan, my mom, and my dad have stayed in the clear, and hopefully will remain that way as we try to isolate and mask when around each other. <br /><br />
Zach and I got on Paxlovid pretty quickly which has definitely helped with symptoms. Zach is getting to find out what chemo mouth is like (the paxlovid metallic taste is very similar). Quinn is just about back to normal, and hopefully thanks to the meds Zach and I soon will be, too. <br /><br />
Because everything must always happen all at once, this past week was also when we started a long-awaited project to fix the foundation on our house, which has meant that while we’ve been sick and quarantining at home, we’ve been serenaded by the gentle sounds of jackhammering and drilling… <br /><br />
It’s been a little rough feeling trapped at home, first by chemo exhaustion and now with covid. I’m really missing having more normalcy in my life, and feeling some fomo/jealousy about friends going out and doing fun things with other people, etc. I’m really focusing on getting through each day, and making that an accomplishment in itself… and that’s been helping a lot, actually. Along with journaling. The weekend has also provided a nice break from construction, and the weather has been perfect to spend a lot of time in the yard which is a nice change of scenery from all that time in bed.
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-33025313993867376702023-09-25T13:51:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:53:36.542-08:00halfway(ish)I think I can safely say I'm now at about the halfway mark with chemo. I had my 3rd round of chemo on Sept 14, about a week and a half ago, and I'm emerging out of the chemo fatigue and entering my window of "good" time (when I feel closer to a normal human vs one being willingly poisoned) for a bit of time before going in for the next go-round in a little over a week. I've been keeping a log of the side effects each cycle, to look for patterns and help me know what to expect for the next ones to come. <br><br>
Something I read in my pre-chemo researching was that many of the chemo side-effects can actually lessen with each cycle, but the fatigue tends to be cumulative. So far this is proving true. Whether because of my body adjusting, or just learning what tricks/meds/etc to use to prevent/manage them, some of the side effects that were most bothersome after the first chemo (like the mouth sores that had me eating a diet of smoothies and cold mashed potatoes for a week) have been MUCH milder or not a concern since then, thank goodness. <br><br>
However, the fatigue has also definitely deepened each time. I'll be pretty wiped out starting from Day 1 (day of chemo infusion) and for the next few days following. It's a deep physical and mental fatigue unlike anything else I have experienced, not even pregnancy tiredness (which I thought had been pretty all-encompassing)... where really all I can do some days is lie in bed and stare at the wall.<br><br>
There will then be a day when the fatigue lifts-- I can think more clearly, and instead of lying in bed all day I actually feel like getting up and moving about, and don't get totally exhausted from small things like fixing myself a bowl of cereal or taking a shower. It's a damn great feeling, to have energy again. <br><br>
After the first chemo, that day came on Day 5. With the next cycle, it was Day 7. This last time, it wasn't till Day 10. It's...not an encouraging pattern, given I still have 3 more cycles to go.
I thought with each cycle I would have about a week of being laid-up, and then two weeks of feeling more ok, but that balance is shifting and so are some of our plans. <br><br>
Thankfully my mom's schedule and travel plans are flexible enough that she's able to spend as much time here with us as needed, and we're taking advantage of that, with her being able to stick around longer to give me more time to just rest. Nothing about cancer is convenient or easy, but I have to marvel at how well many things are set up for us having to deal with this. I'm so grateful for my mom's help, and for my boys being the ages they are and being so independent, and just how much support we have that allows me to focus on doing what I need to and knowing everyone else is well taken care of.
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-39939423036282431762023-09-06T13:46:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:50:31.903-08:00Approaching my birthday not unlike how one might approach a possibly rabid raccoonI was <i>so excited</i> to turn 42 last year. I celebrated my birthday by booking a cute little airbnb surrounded by redwoods, bathing in the beauty of solitude and light filtering through the trees and taking pretty pictures of the nature around me. I think it's my favorite way I've celebrated a birthday. I had every reason to feel happy and hopeful about my birthday….my 40s had been great to me thus far, and 42 -- the answer to life, the universe, and everything, after all-- was bound to be a good year, right? <br /><br />
Welp. Right about then I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease (<a href="https://www.hss.edu/condition-list_undifferentiated-connective-tissue-disease.asp#:~:text=Undifferentiated%20connective%20tissue%20disease%20(UCTD,RA)%2C%20lupus%20or%20scleroderma.">UCTD</a>). As I grappled with the reality of having a chronic illness, I then found I had skin cancer (smack dab on my forehead, no less). And then-- the pièce de résistance, apparently-- came breast cancer.<br /><br />
To be fair, there's been a lot of really great stuff this past year, too. But, man... it's not been what I expected. <br /><br />
As I face my upcoming birthday next week, what I feel is reminiscent of when we were approaching New Years Eve at the end of 2020. There's one part of me that wants to shout "GOOD RIDDANCE, 42!" And another part of me that doesn't want to jinx it, who feels fairly apprehensive about what 43 might bring... What new ways might my body find to betray me? <br /><br />
[This is also where I have some complex feelings about the whole "cancer warrior/battle" metaphor. The odd thing about cancer is that, unlike a threat like covid or bacterial infections, etc, the enemy isn't some outsider who invaded and is wreaking havoc where they shouldn't be... my cancer is made of me. I am fighting myself. It's me, hi, I'm the problem it's me]<br /><br />
I don't know what the year ahead has in store for me. Well, ok, I know that a lot of the next several months is gonna suck. Though I trust/hope there will be good stuff, too. It's feeling a little hard to trust that there won't be other ways that the rug gets pulled out from under me yet again. I'm trying to embrace a cautious optimism, along with an awareness and deep appreciation of the good things I have and feel and experience, and being present in each moment because you just never know what surprises-- good, or not so great, and everything inbetween-- may be around the corner.
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-20782943447657806932023-08-31T13:40:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:45:10.471-08:00bald facedI felt fairly self-conscious about going out in public with my buzzed hair for the first couple days, and then got more comfortable with it. That following week I started noticing hair shedding, which has happened in spurts and stops since then. A popular tip on the cancer forums is to use a lint roller on your head to easily grab the loose hairs as/before they fall out, and it's surprisingly effective... there have been times when I filled multiple of the sticky sheets with stray hair just rolling it around my head.<div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzj9YzqvSpjti4QdKF3ICvAIwaAGpC3cwtkL4RoKmQOm6A0GrGi974dKAE8oK1XVA5WWT1PSUgSzvPz54geYr6t2pJ-FgM7TYx8qJ8Vn3Fi0ZuxWuGmY5TPJDcL0qD0oBnniElFng4BVYQTg4D04hn631TAAKv3hrl5PdSPYqpc7KZnlRivsm/s400/fb182169-0b7e-3df0-8f83-16d459af064b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzj9YzqvSpjti4QdKF3ICvAIwaAGpC3cwtkL4RoKmQOm6A0GrGi974dKAE8oK1XVA5WWT1PSUgSzvPz54geYr6t2pJ-FgM7TYx8qJ8Vn3Fi0ZuxWuGmY5TPJDcL0qD0oBnniElFng4BVYQTg4D04hn631TAAKv3hrl5PdSPYqpc7KZnlRivsm/s320/fb182169-0b7e-3df0-8f83-16d459af064b.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>Something you don't often hear about is that your scalp actually gets tender and sore as hair falls out. For me it was mostly on the top of my head, and as short as it was anything that moved the hair I did have, would hurt. So eventually I asked Zach to shave it down with clippers, which almost instantly made my scalp feel better.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_ReKcjONxADr5aJ2tcCQxk560-07D1dQx-UZbWLXUDOORZLa3YS90WWLMbdcg5m1Nu-J-0ikLPF3rDXy5R7iigRXS6oiQjGElzw6c3ET6efLdU9NJSjdh1SjfEG-61O2xkSqMjiK5NvaYrVxPtacXLuc9B6eNBg__PMRVHFCUQQhuwyoD7Id/s301/ea54b3e0-a980-318f-8896-b586543a05f4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="301" data-original-width="300" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1_ReKcjONxADr5aJ2tcCQxk560-07D1dQx-UZbWLXUDOORZLa3YS90WWLMbdcg5m1Nu-J-0ikLPF3rDXy5R7iigRXS6oiQjGElzw6c3ET6efLdU9NJSjdh1SjfEG-61O2xkSqMjiK5NvaYrVxPtacXLuc9B6eNBg__PMRVHFCUQQhuwyoD7Id/s1600/ea54b3e0-a980-318f-8896-b586543a05f4.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><br /> This look is taking a bit longer to get used to... It's weird looking in the mirror and thinking "Whoa, I look like a cancer patient." Followed by, well, acknowledging that that's exactly what I am right now. <br /><br />
The hair loss is a strange thing to observe. I'd estimate I've probably lost about 50% of the hair on my whole body, in a way that leaves some areas patchy and otherwise just...thinned out. I'm building up a collection of hats and beanies, for comfort, sun protection, and also just warmth-- turns out not having hair means your head gets cold way more easily. I also have a handful of fun costume wigs on loan from a friend that I may play around with from time to time. <br /><br />
I've also noticed that without hair, I'm gravitating much more towards using a bit of makeup, earrings, even painting my nails. I think it's part having so much more focus on my FACE when there isn't hair to help share the spotlight, a bit of self-pampering, and also just wanting to reclaim a bit of femininity. An effort to maybe not totally look like a cancer patient, and sorta "own" the look a little.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-18003086576567166042023-08-20T13:37:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:40:33.383-08:00the short and long of itTo say I've learned a lot about cancer (in general and breast cancer specifically), treatment options, etc, in the past 1-2 months would be... an understatement. I've been surprised by a lot of the information I've learned. One of those surprises is that I had this idea that, ok, cancer sucks, and going through chemo and surgery sucks, but if you catch it early then you just you fight it, beat it, and move on, right? <br /><br />
Well, yes and no. I've been surprised by the many much longer term affects that will stay with me for a long time. An obvious one, of course, will be losing one or both of my breasts. Once I get through active treatment (my 3-4 months of chemo, surgery, plus probably continued chemo/targeted therapy infusions of some sort for several months after that), then I'll go on hormone therapy for 5-10 years after that, launching me into early menopause and all the fun things that come along with that. Breast cancer surgery often involves removing some number of lymph nodes, which depending on how many will put me at risk for lymphedema in my arm and hand for years afterwards. <br /><br />
Also, most cancers, if they're going to recur, usually do so within the first five years, which is why 5 year survival stats and disease-free anniversaries are such a big thing. But ER/PR+ and HER2+ cancers like mine can also recur later, even 10-20 years in the future. It will be a much longer timeline before I'd be considered "in the clear" (if ever).<br /><br />
Now, it may turn out that none or few of these things even affect me. The usual recurrence and survival statistics are outdated because many of them were collected before many of the newer drugs and targeted therapies became common (Herceptin and Perjeta are, apparently, quite the wonder drug for her2+ cancers and has dramatically improved outcomes. <a href="https://www.clinical-breast-cancer.com/article/S1526-8209%2823%2900076-9/fulltext#:~:text=Human%20epidermal%20growth%20factor%20receptor,many%20developing%20incurable%20metastatic%20disease.">One review I found</a> showed that recurrence rates without targeted therapies for HER2+ cancers were 30-50% in the first 10 years, and with them it goes down to 25% or lower depending on different factors). I feel pretty confident about my odds of going through treatment and emerging cancer-free at the end of them. That said, while recurrence rates are relatively low, they're still a bit high for comfort. It's hard not to feel like I'll spend the next few decades looking over my shoulder waiting to see if it will come back. <br /><br />
I'm grateful that we caught this early. I have a lot of reasons to feel hopeful and optimistic. And yet, it's a bitter pill to swallow to accept that not only is breast cancer turning my life upside down for the next 6-12 months, but that there's also a list of ways that it will stay with me for years and decades to come.
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-7289615911069244262023-08-14T13:34:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:37:12.166-08:00Chemo round 1: side effects<p> It's been two weeks since my first round of chemo. For the following 4 days I basically slept like a cat, probably 14+ hours a day. I also felt so mentally exhausted that even watching tv felt like it required more energy to focus than I had available. Thankfully I never felt much nausea, I was pretty proactive with taking meds at the first sign of anything. Heartburn was definitely an issue, though.</p><br />
I started feeling a bit more alert starting on day 5, though then things switched and I started having trouble sleeping. My nose and mouth started feeling really dry. Unfortunately the dry mouth then turned into sores that made it difficult to eat anything other than very soft, bland foods for about a week but that's finally been getting better and I have a better idea of what to do to help prevent it being as bad next time (hopefully). I haven't experienced the metallic taste people talk about, but food as tasted weird/different at times and generally somewhat more bland, like if I use sound as an analogy for flavor it's like the volume has been turned down. <br /><br />
Energy has been a lot better this second week, it still comes and goes but most days I've felt good energy-wise. Interestingly, the chemo does seem to have possibly put my autoimmune disease into remission at least temporarily, as my joints have all felt completely fine this whole time. So that's a silver lining. <br /><br />
Most people start losing their hair at about the 2 week mark after starting this chemo regimen. At first I figured I would wait till I saw signs of hair shedding before buzzing my hair, but then I realized that the waiting and anticipating was making me feel anxious so opted for a proactive approach instead and buzzed it last night. I'll admit that it's pretty darn nice having hair be this low maintenance. I haven't noticed shedding from my head yet, although I have noticed that my underarm hair hasn't grown since shaving it several days ago, and also my leg hair is definitely thinner and patchier. <br /><br />
Emotionally, I've been managing pretty well most days. I'm good at putting one literal and figurative foot in front of the other and just getting through the next hard thing. I did have an opportunity this weekend to spend some time in the woods with close friends and it allowed for some space to let out a lot of the grief I feel about this diagnosis and the way it's taking over my life and all the temporary and permanent changes, discomfort, and uncertainty ahead of me. It felt soothing and cathartic. This is hard and it sucks, but I'm grateful for the resources I have available to me for dealing with everything, including all the great people who love and support me and say the right things when I need to hear them.
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-13215650671326621302023-08-02T13:29:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:34:52.025-08:00First Chemo Infusion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgwUseS_iWEdCLiKnK6s2h2J4X4Kn3C4iQXvQV7VztA4_gdT7UwywlBEVbd5sZltOJjULKUkxqZebrflA-eO6Esvh7HEQEzKE6b62-kcYFJ3CBpCw3rg_aG5xqkquy0foKGSRhafcqDZe08Fiw7r-KEbzoM8qZeY6w2Y3tNRR9OT74fjPIYZb/s4032/152465c8-e65a-4006-8671-a7f8328d06a1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgwUseS_iWEdCLiKnK6s2h2J4X4Kn3C4iQXvQV7VztA4_gdT7UwywlBEVbd5sZltOJjULKUkxqZebrflA-eO6Esvh7HEQEzKE6b62-kcYFJ3CBpCw3rg_aG5xqkquy0foKGSRhafcqDZe08Fiw7r-KEbzoM8qZeY6w2Y3tNRR9OT74fjPIYZb/w320-h240/152465c8-e65a-4006-8671-a7f8328d06a1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The past week has been kind of a lot. After getting the port placed on tuesday, I also had an MRI and heart ultrasound on Wednesday (as a precaution to monitor my heart bc of one of the chemo drugs I'm taking), and then as Zach and I were walking out of the MRI we spotted a covid clinic and decided to get me a booster before starting chemo. So then between being sore from the port, and tired from the covid booster, I was pretty useless for the next few days... Then got a bit of a second wind over the weekend and Monday, before having my first chemo infusion yesterday (Tuesday). <br /><br />
The infusion went smoothly enough, my nurse was nice. I was given something to prevent nausea, which made me pretty sleepy, but then I think the first drug on the infusion gave me restless leg which made it hard to sleep. But that eased up over the next few hours. I was there for about 6 hours in total before being released and able to come home. I felt pretty ok after, other than tired...I went to bed around 9pm. <br /><br />
It's kinda of an odd feeling today, waiting around to see what side effects I'll have and when they'll show up. I'm sleepy and have a bit of heartburn, but nothing too uncomfortable. I've been catching up on some shows. My mom ended up flying out here Monday and will stay for a week, it's nice having her company and also knowing she can take care of cooking, etc, so I can just rest. <br /><br />
A couple medical updates: I got the results of my genetic testing today, which was negative for almost everything (I'm apparently a carrier for one gene that can be associated with colon cancer but it's recessive so shouldn't affect anything). So that's a relief. However my oncologist did find a small possibly-suspicious spot on my left side in the MRI (the known tumor is on the right) so I'll get that checked out next week.
I did get some very sweet gifts from friends last week, which really warmed my heart. It helps a lot to feel so loved and cared for by so many people as I face this big, scary thing. <br /><br />
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-1652715113066146462023-07-25T13:26:00.000-07:002024-02-04T13:27:59.629-08:00more poking and prodding I got to have two procedures today. First I went in for an additional biopsy, to check a possibly-suspicious spot next to my tumor. Then I went to the hospital to get my chemo port installed. Everything went smoothly, the nurses and doctor were all great. The one snag was the procedure getting delayed and so spending extra time in the pre-op room trying to find something interesting to watch on the little cable tv they provided when 90% of the content appeared to be commercials. <br /><br />
The procedure itself was quick and smooth. I’m now back home and loading up on Tylenol and cold packs. It’s pretty odd being able to see the port under the skin, but it’s also kind of a nifty little gadget. Here’s to it healing quickly and not being too bothersome. <br /><br />
The boys have been instructed to help me out since I’m not allowed to use my left arm too much the next few weeks while the port fully heals/sets in place. Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-90750606577856985392023-07-22T13:20:00.000-07:002024-02-04T18:33:57.439-08:00New haircut! Also, I have cancer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDxZtVDaRHmlsyl2A5GueuC-4tgJrmXiopXdE50DREKD42sC6kQKMEkMQd69yveKra15Q2bAjslsqphTf9fi4FyspgkoUXcA1l1ESDWuJlyQ1II1PBJRFbKZ-S2bE5rOxG_Vmq0BOTS8ystOpOKvPOBUKOwAr23WJtFwHrwz7F-kxwQmqDguN/s250/64bc461ed73a0967261060e3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDxZtVDaRHmlsyl2A5GueuC-4tgJrmXiopXdE50DREKD42sC6kQKMEkMQd69yveKra15Q2bAjslsqphTf9fi4FyspgkoUXcA1l1ESDWuJlyQ1II1PBJRFbKZ-S2bE5rOxG_Vmq0BOTS8ystOpOKvPOBUKOwAr23WJtFwHrwz7F-kxwQmqDguN/w320-h320/64bc461ed73a0967261060e3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div>When I chose to get "this too shall pass" tattooed on my arm, I didn't realize quite how helpful of a reminder/mantra that bit of ink would prove to be. First, I did it a couple months before covid hit, so there was that. But there have also been many other moments in the past 3 years when I've looked down my arm and caught sight of the tattoo, and remember. And honestly, it really is comforting.<div> <br />I've been leaning heavily on that bit of tattooed wisdom again these past few weeks as I first found a lump in my right breast, then waited for a mammogram and ultrasound, got whisked into a biopsy, and then got the call a week and a half ago (Wednesday, July 12) that yes, indeed, I do have breast cancer.</div><div> <br />And then there was more waiting to figure out what that would mean for the coming weeks/months/years head. It's a LOT of waiting. The past couple weeks have possibly been the longest of my life.</div><div> <br />Here's what I know so far: I have<a href="https://www.nationalbreastcancer.org/invasive-ductal-carcinoma/"> Invasive Ductal Carcinoma</a> (IDC), which is the most common type of breast cancer. So far it looks to be localized (hasn't spread to lymph nodes). It's "triple-positive" which means the cancer cells have <a href="https://www.cancer.org/cancer/types/breast-cancer/understanding-a-breast-cancer-diagnosis/breast-cancer-hormone-receptor-status.html">hormone receptors for estrogen and progesterone</a>, and produce extra of something called <a href="https://www.cancer.org/cancer/types/breast-cancer/understanding-a-breast-cancer-diagnosis/breast-cancer-her2-status.html">her2 protein</a> (this one is a bit more rare, about 10% of IDC are this subtype). This is a bit of a mixed bag, but one positive is there are great targeted therapies for cancers with those characteristics.</div><div> <br />I met with my surgeon and oncologist a few days ago (I like them both, and got a kick out of finding out that my surgeon and rheumatologist are friends). The plan for the next few months is that I will start a chemotherapy regimen called TCHP. I'll get the chemo infusions six times, once every 3 weeks. The first infusion will be in a little over a week, and if everything goes according to schedule I'll finish sometime in November.</div><div> <br />I'm also getting more testing done (MRI, genetic screen, etc) to get a better picture of what we're dealing with, and that will help us figure out what will happen next (eg what kind of surgery options I'll have, and what further kinds of chemo and/or radiation I'll need).</div><div> <br />How am I doing with all this? That's... a hard question to answer. I'm mostly ok? It's definitely a lot to take in and process. I feel confident about being able to beat this thing, but am not looking forward to a grueling few months/year+ of getting there (since, given the ER/PR status it will mean taking hormone therapy for many years ahead to keep the cancer away once it's gone). I'm really, really grateful for a great network of people who care a whole lot about me and are doing everything they can to support me.</div><div> <br />It's been a whirlwind of doctor visits, scheduling appointments, researching and taking notes and trying to organize information, and getting stuck by many, many needles. I'm trying to do what I can to prepare for the weeks and months ahead. But I'm also trying to consciously enjoy fun and light things when and where I can.</div><div><br />
Hence, this morning getting a fun haircut I've been debating for months but hadn't been brave enough to try... There's nothing quite like knowing you will lose all the hair on your head in a few weeks to prompt you to try something new. </div>Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-47591115979157405752019-11-01T20:53:00.001-07:002019-11-01T20:54:03.167-07:00One Womens' Mid-life Crises, and Maybe Amy Poehler Should Make More MoviesThe other day I read a tweet commenting on how every 35-ish year old woman this person knew was going through some sort of major life upheaval/transition.<br />
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I thought about it, and realized how true it felt. Of the women in our mid-30s-to-40s with whom I am close enough to be privy to these sorts of things, a whole lot of us seemed to be going through some major life stuff-- divorces; job and career changes; mid-life crises and coming to terms with unaccomplished goals and the new reality that entailed; even new mental/cognitive/health diagnoses that changed the person's perspective. Not all of these changes are bad, but they all involve a good bit of unheaval and mental adjustments to new realities.<br />
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A lot of my fellow parent friends have kids who are entering tween/teendom, and grappling with what that means. <a href="https://mightymarce.blogspot.com/2017/12/thoughts-on-parenting-young-vs-older.html">A couple years </a>ago I wrote about the surprise of parenting feeling more emotionally needy as my kids got older vs when they were younger, which seems silly to admit but has been a surprise given how much attention is given to the early years, and the story that by the time our kids are these ages that their friends matter more, that parental influence lessens, that while we may stress over our teens they don't really need us much anymore... when really it almost seems like they need us <i>more</i>, but few people talk about that. There's so much written at parenting in the first 5 years, and much less attention, it seems, to guiding parenting as our kids get older, and our challenges get so much more complex.<br />
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Similarly, there's this cultural story that our teens and twenties are the ages where we struggle most to "find ourselves," figuring out our life path... and that by the time we hit our 30s most people have that path figured out, and it's nice and neat and brightly lit. There's little room to acknowledge the fact that life doesn't stop throwing curveballs at us just because we pass a certain birthday or hit a specific milestone. Even most conventional wisdom about mid-life crises seems to treat them as silly, with cartoonish depictions of men rushing off to buy hotrods and find new hot young girlfriends. There's little in terms of meaningful depictions of what it's like to be, say, a woman dealing with realizing her marriage is deeply unfulfilling, and/or realizing the reason she's struggled so much in life is because of undiagnosed autism, or coming to terms with the fact that her devotion to her kids and to her career are fundamentally incompatible, or how to help her kid's emerging anxiety and depression, all while dealing with hot flashes and memory loss from perimenopause.<br />
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It's disturbing that I feel strange about even listing those things, each of which are things people I know (close and/or distant) are dealing with, and it feels too intimate/revealing to even mention them even though I'm not even hinting at any names, and this itself is part of the problem, right? It feels so taboo to talk about this stuff. But if there's one thing I learned about blogging through my kids' early years, it's that being able to talk about the hard shit, and have others say, "HOLY SHIT YEAH ME TOO," helped even if it did nothing to alleviate the problem itself. Just knowing that it was normal, that other people experienced it too, is such a relief.<br />
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Hiding in the dark helps no one.<br />
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But it's also so much more complicated to talk about this stuff, because you can't talk about a marriage, or about parenting older children, without telling part of someone else's story, too, someone else who may not want their dirty laundry aired. I feel like that's yet another challenge to those of us, often women but certainly not exclusively, whose lives are so entwined with other people's and with caregiving, that our stories get entangled with the people we care for, and they become a little less our own, and thus harder for us to tell.<br />
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Several months ago Netflix came out with a new movie by Amy Poehler called <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt8169446/">Wine Country</a> that was about a group of women who were in their 40s or so, who meet up in Napa for a birthday trip. It was funny and cute and I love most of the women in it, and it touched on many of these life transitions women go through in mid-life, and we get so few movies or media like that. It was so refreshing, to see those stories told that way. And just, I dunno. It would be nice if we could get some more media like that.Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-42212885567849755712018-12-01T16:06:00.002-08:002018-12-01T16:06:39.146-08:00I'm tired of sexism ruining my enjoyment of mediaAs I get older I'm finding there are more and more things, usually related to how women and girls are portrayed or treated, that bother me when I encounter them in media I'm consuming and pull me out of the experience of enjoying said media. It happens with books, movies and tv, music, etc, and each time, it sucks. Some random examples include:<br />
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<li>one day while driving I decide to break out a bunch of old favorites of mine from the 90s and 2000s, including Fall Out Boy, Death Cab for Cutie, and BareNaked Ladies. I felt that nostalic joy of belting out the lyrics I still remembered so well, quickly followed by the realization that a lot of the songs are actually pretty creepy and stalkerish. </li>
<li>I won't even go into the experience of revisiting old favorites like Sixteen Candles and Grease, and the disillusionment of realizing how rapey and awful they were in this department... </li>
<li>I recently decide to stop bothering reading classic literature by men as it's just too disappointing. I re/read books like Fahrenheit 451 and 1984 in the past couple years, and each time I had a hard time focusing on or enjoying the story because it is so clear that the authors have such an utter disdain for women and view all women as vapid idiots. </li>
<li>Even in progressive shows this shit creeps up... take a show like Firefly which does have some awesome women in it and has some fun flipping stereotypes around on their heads. And then there's every interaction Mal has with Inara, where he is constantly insulting her (it's even grosser that it's supposedly in the name of being in love with her). He even almost dies "defending her honor" meanwhile he calls her a whore every 5 seconds. (And then there's<a href="https://io9.gizmodo.com/5959794/the-firefly-episode-were-really-glad-joss-whedon-didnt-get-to-make"> this episode idea </a>which thankfully never got made bc holy whoa) </li>
<li>And it happens with new stuff, too... I've watched Solo several times now, most recently when I showed it to my youngest a few weeks ago. Each time I watch it I realize how much I like the male characters... and how disappointed I am by how the women were written. There's Val, who was great for the 5 minutes of screentime they gave her before they killed her off (seriously?); then L3-37, who I adored but who is also apparently viewed by many as a parody of a SJW, and whom no one takes seriously they just roll their eyes at her "antics" (oh and she also dies after way too little screen time); even Qi'ra, the best of the bunch, got sadeled with the "I'm so damaged, I've done TERRIBLE things, I'm unlovable!" trope. (part of what made this especially disappointing is that Star Wars has otherwise been kicking ass in writing good storylines for women, so it felt out of place for Solo to do so poorly, for its female characters to feel like checkboxes to be marked off and then disposed of)</li>
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Sometimes I'm able to ignore this stuff when it comes up (I won't try to rationalize why I can watch Game of Thrones), but sometimes I just can't stomach it... or at the very least, it taints the show or book, or like with Solo or Firefly it dampens down what would otherwise be unbridled enthusiasm for the work. </div>
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Maybe that's why I'm so overjoyed when I watch shows like Crazy Ex-Girlfriend or the new She-Ra, media that is created by women and shows such a breadth of awesome women and femme characters to enjoy and revel in. They also show that <i>it can be done.</i></div>
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And I can hear people saying that I'm the problem, that people like me should just ignore this stuff and not be so sensitive and touchy ("snowflakes!!"). But why should I (and any/all women or just non-male people) have to "put up with" media that writes or treats us so badly? How hard is it to have good representation and writing of and around women characters? </div>
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I feel like <a href="https://www.fempositive.com/womans-t-shirt-made-someone-feel-so-unsafe-they-had-to-call-the-cops/">I've heard enough from old white men</a>, and am focusing on media created by everyone else. </div>
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-83503711416737725842018-10-29T16:31:00.000-07:002018-10-29T16:31:05.845-07:00Acknowledging Joy Among the DumpsterfiresThis weekend I flew to Seattle along with a friend and my sister to go to <a href="https://geekgirlcon.com/">GeekGirlCon</a>, a convention dedicated to celebrating the contributions of women in the arts, literature, science, tech, gaming, etc, and being an inclusive place for people of all genders, backgrounds, abilities, to come together and share joy over our various fandoms. It was a super fun time with great panels, great people, amazing costumes. This was my second time attending GeekGirl, and I was once again blown away by the creativity of attendees (all the amazing costumes!) and the artists in the exhibition hall (just take all my money!!). I loved seeing everyone from little girls dressed as Squirrel Girl and Te Ka, to older women dressed as General Leia Organa, and everyone inbetween. The atmosphere felt supportive, inclusive, and just overall fun and joyful. It felt like a beautiful place to be.<br />
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Last night while sitting on the plane waiting to head back to the bay area, I checked into the news-- I hadn't really been online all weekend, except for instagram-- and heard about the shooting at a synagogue in Pittsburgh.<br />
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It is a weird, weird thing to be sending messages to friends with pictures of cosplay and congratulating each other's costumes, then switching over to Facebook and reading friends' heartbroken posts about their community, people they know, being actively attacked. There's an emotional whiplash. It feels wrong to feel joy while others feel so much pain.<br />
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I felt guilty, and I felt angry, and I felt tired. I'm tired of checking out from the world for a day or two, to do something fun or just for a needed self-care break, and the inevitable punch in the gut of catching up on the shitty things that happened while I wasn't paying attention, be it mass shootings or bomb threats or our govt pushing legislation that's intended to further harm marginalized lives etc etc etc. The never-ending barrage of scandals, shitty legislation, hateful quotes from our country's "leaders," it's all exhausting and demoralizing and draining.<br />
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While browsing an airport bookshop in Seattle and I saw a table of recently published nonfiction. There was a book about Trump and Putin, and right next to it was a book about finding joy in the small things in life and celebrating them. I don't know if that placement was intentional or not, but it struck me as significant and symbolic. We can't be solely focused on the horrible things happening. We need to also look for and embrace the joy that still exists around us.<br />
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This is what I'm striving for but struggling with... Knowing that it's ok, or even necessary, to feel joy amidst utter bullshit. To be ok feeling happy even while horrible things happen. And yes It's important to not turn a blind eye, to not turn away for too long, to still keep fighting against oppression and hatred and bigotry. There's a fine line, sometimes, (and that line is different for everyone) between escaping for self-care, and digging our head in the sand and ignoring reality because reality is too painful to bear. But perhaps the only way we can survive the pain is to embrace the joy when it comes. Maybe otherwise we just become puddles of despair, unable to cope with the horrors of the world let alone to do anything to change them.<br />
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I got home last night and read Laurie Penny's latest Patreon essay, and apparently she has impeccable timing because she said a lot of what I needed to read in that moment. Go to <a href="https://www.patreon.com/lauriepenny/overview">her Patreon</a> and sign up to read her content, but the last paragraph of her essay goes like this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Simone Weil says that attention is a form of prayer. I think the key to making things while the world is on fire is to take as much as possible of the attention you currently give to the relentless catastrophe pageant - not all of it, but as much as possible - to give it to your own work, whatever it is. Attention is prayer. Do not pray at those dark altars. Work as if you lived in the early days of a better nation."</blockquote>
Maybe taking part in an event that is unapologetically diverse and supportive of people of color and lgbtq+ people, is itself a form of resistance. I spent my weekend putting my attention and my money towards supporting the kind of world I want to see. Maybe that is one way to push back against a system that seeks to erase those populations. It's not enough, of course. It often feels like nothing is. But, it's one thing.<br /><br /><a href="https://qz.com/1441014/how-to-help-victims-of-the-pittsburgh-synagogue-shooting/">Check here </a>for a list of ways to help the victims of the Pittsburgh shooting.Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-20231744788689103442018-09-06T10:41:00.002-07:002018-09-06T10:41:38.396-07:00Judging "Screentime"A couple weeks ago our internet was out for close to two days. It started I think sunday afternoon, and when we still didn't have home internet on Monday morning I suggested that we get lunch at Panera and bring our laptop and ipad for a wifi hangout. <div>
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So there we were at our local Panera, D watching youtube on his laptop and Q watching a show on the ipad. I had my kindle reader. And I kinda smirked to myself, wondering how many of the people in that restaurant were looking at our table and clutching their pearls-- I could just hear the complaints, about how these kids are ALWAYS on their screens, and look at that family IGNORING each other because of their addictive screens!! </div>
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What they couldn't know is that both my guys spent a solid 3 hours that morning running around playing games at a park. Yes, shockingly, they love youtube AND the outdoors! Also, the ways that we connect over the content they love so much, watching shows together or talking about their favorite games. It seems a shame to me how people assume "screens" are isolating, not seeing the many ways they can bring people together. </div>
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I recently heard a group of parents lamenting the "screens addiction" in kids today. One complained of a teenage nephew who was glued to their phone for the entirely of a family reunion. I instantly remembered what it's like to be the awkward 13 year old among your aunts and uncles, and how much time I spent hiding/escaping behind a book rather than having to answer the same set of small talk questions about school and whatnot (remember when it was books that we demonized instead of screens?). I also wondered if anyone had really shown genuine interest in that 13 year old nephew-- asked them about what they like to do, what they were doing on their phone, and really listened vs judging or making condescending remarks about screens rotting their brains? I know my introverted and video-game-enthusiast 10yo kiddo will happily put down his phone and <i>talk your ear off</i> if you ask him about his favorite games and really, truly listen (perhaps that will change in a few years).</div>
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Maybe next time you see a kid on their phone or ipad, instead of rolling your eyes and judging them, maybe you could give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they don't spend every waking moment on that device (how realistic even is that?). Maybe, just maybe, you are only witnessing a few minutes of their day, which may not be representative of their entire lives. Maybe even dare to ask them about what they're doing, not out of condescension, but muster up some real interest and you might be surprised to see their response. Connection, after all, stems from sharing your interests with others, and why would that not also apply to the things we do on screens? </div>
Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6568229.post-1158374068812073042018-08-14T21:55:00.004-07:002018-08-14T21:58:06.255-07:00On Ninja and Sexism in Gaming and StreamingThis morning I saw a f<a href="https://www.facebook.com/allfeministsunited2/posts/1900626073316244">acebook post</a> about a popular streaming gamer called <a href="https://www.theverge.com/2018/8/14/17688392/ninja-fortnite-women-streaming-harassment">Ninja saying he doesn't do streaming videos with female gamers</a> because, in his own words, "If I have one conversation with one female streamer where we’re playing with one another, and even if there’s a hint of flirting, that is going to be taken and going to be put on every single video and be clickbait forever."<br />
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You can probably imagine the feminist ragefit this threw me into.<br />
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I have a particular [what's the rage equivalent of a soft spot? a rage spot?] for the idea that men and women can't possibly socialize without it being about sex, or leading to sex, or implying sex, etc. It's sexist and tired and limiting and dehumanizes women, making us out to be nothing more than vapid temptresses trying to lure men into affairs, with no possible actual personalities or talents or anything that could ever be useful to anyone else.<br />
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It's limiting on a social/personal level-- many of my husband's closest friends have been women; my BFF of the past several years is a dude; I can't imagine either of our lives without these people in them. It's also incredibly, infuriatingly limited on a professional level, given that if men truly feel they can't be around women without risk of having or being suspected of an affair, that basically means they can't have women in their spaces which often includes things like <i>jobs</i>. Especially any of the high paying ones.<br />
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This is incredibly worrisome when you realize powerful people like <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2017/03/pences-gender-segregated-dinners/521286/">our country's Vice-President thinks this way.</a> Two men socializing together after work raises no eyebrows. Considering how much of networking occurs during those "off" hours, think of how frequently women get cut off from forming important relationships and advancing their careers simply because being alone with a man who isn't her husband is "taboo."<br />
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This line of thinking also smacks of "<a href="https://www.bustle.com/articles/131418-7-examples-of-benevolent-sexism-that-are-just-as-harmful-as-hostile-sexism">benevolent sexism</a>," which claims to be about "respecting" women and holding us up on some pedestal when really, if you peek back behind the curtains a bit, it reveals an opinion of women that can't possibly include us being legitimately talented in any real capacity aside from luring men into our beds.<br />
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(And don't even get me started on the idea that men must avoid women for fear of being accused of rape... Like, if that's the only action you can think of that will protect you from rape accusations, perhaps it is you who needs to hide away from society and not be near, well, anyone)<br />
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(Also, it's super heteronormative and ignores the existence of gay or bisexual people or anyone else who doesn't fit neatly into the heterosexual male/female binary)<br />
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Clearly, this is a loaded issue.<br />
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I spent more of the day reading into this, seeing arguments from various angles, including that especially on sites like Twitch apparently viewers are <a href="https://twitter.com/dexbonus/status/1028409710314049536">incredibly prone to harassing</a> gamers especially when gamers of different genders play together. In a <a href="https://twitter.com/Ninja/status/1029128224457072641">later tweet</a>, Ninja attempted to clarify his statement and say that this was more about shining a light on online harassment, and trying to shield himself and his family from it as much as possible. And so this brings up a whole slew of other issues. What does it mean to be a prominent gamer? How much harassment are you expected to put up with? Even if you disagree with the way something is done, how much of an obligation do you have to push back against it, and how much are you expected to risk to that end? As <a href="https://www.theverge.com/2018/8/14/17688392/ninja-fortnite-women-streaming-harassment">Meghan Farokhmanesh wrote in her Vice article</a>:<br />
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<div id="sAmTPV" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #424242; font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: 1.2rem; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">
The circumstances surrounding Blevins’ stance are sticky. As the foremost <em style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">Fortnite</em>streamer, Blevins has the power to take a stance against the sort of harassment he’s speaking of. Twitch is notoriously thorny for women. Some female streamers are stamped as <a href="https://www.polygon.com/2018/6/27/17506414/amouranth-twitch-thot-streamer-cosplayer-alinity-backlash" style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 1px solid currentcolor; box-sizing: border-box; color: #e5127d; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; transition: color 0.1s ease 0s, background-color 0.1s ease 0s, fill 0.1s ease 0s; vertical-align: inherit;">“Twitch thots,”</a> harassed, and doxxed. Sidelining women only alienates them further. It perpetuates a system in which they are denied the same opportunities as male streamers simply because of their gender. Blevins doesn’t <em style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">have</em> to stream with anyone — but by declaring that playing with women is “just not worth it,” he’s contributing to false narratives that men and women can’t coexist in non-sexual relationships.</div>
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Blevins’ fear of harassment cannot be ignored or underplayed, either. Online celebrities are entitled to their privacy, even when part of their job requires them to let viewers in. Creators facing blowback from fans over feelings of ownership or entitlement is, sadly, a well-documented occurrence: viewers who consider themselves privy to the relationships and personal lives of their favorite stars, whether it’s women <a href="https://www.theverge.com/2018/8/8/17661596/twitch-relationship-status-amouranth-women-donations-single" style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 1px solid currentcolor; box-sizing: border-box; color: #e5127d; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; transition: color 0.1s ease 0s, background-color 0.1s ease 0s, fill 0.1s ease 0s; vertical-align: inherit;">on Twitch</a>, <a href="https://www.theverge.com/2018/6/6/17435218/liza-koshy-david-dobrik-youtube" style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 1px solid currentcolor; box-sizing: border-box; color: #e5127d; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; transition: color 0.1s ease 0s, background-color 0.1s ease 0s, fill 0.1s ease 0s; vertical-align: inherit;">YouTube power couples</a>, or <a href="https://go.redirectingat.com/?id=66960X1514734&xs=1&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.newyorker.com%2Fmagazine%2F2018%2F07%2F09%2Fice-poseidons-lucrative-stressful-life-as-a-live-streamer" rel="nofollow noopener" style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 1px solid currentcolor; box-sizing: border-box; color: #e5127d; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; transition: color 0.1s ease 0s, background-color 0.1s ease 0s, fill 0.1s ease 0s; vertical-align: inherit;" target="_blank">live vloggers</a>.</div>
</blockquote>
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As a prominent gamer, one could say that Ninja has an opportunity, even an obligation, to push back against the current environment and take a stand with female gamers rather than fall prey to the mob rule of harassers. Is it fair to put that load on his shoulders? On the flip side, how shitty is it to come out and admit that women gamers face particularly difficult harassment, and instead of doing anything to help change that, say you're just washing your hands of the whole thing?<br />
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I am not a gamer. However, I am the mother of two young boys who are avid young gamers. They love video games, they love watching others play video games. We have not ventured into the world of Twitch yet, but their list of youtube subscriptions is long. A lot of my feelings about this ordeal are tied to knowing that this is the world my kids are heading towards, and wow it's fucked up. I hope they can be part of the change against this sort of shit.<br />
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I do think, as a bottom line, that someone who is so well known and has a following like Ninja does, has a duty to be careful about how he talks about these things and handles them. If he's going to make a statement about not playing with female gamers, that should be followed up with a specific discussion as to why, and what could be done about this kind of harassment so that these sorts of limitations aren't something anyone has to seriously consider. Whether he likes it or not, whether he accepts it or not, he is an influencer-- people will listen to him, and what he says can either reinforce or push back against certain types of thinking.<br />
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He reasonably acted to protect himself& his family, but how he chose to do it enables the culture of harassment while also validating the exclusion of women (and making it harder to impeach!), a lesson that will also be absorbed by millions of young men who identify with him.</div>
— Kat Lo (<a href="https://twitter.com/lawlkat">@lawlkat</a>) <a href="https://twitter.com/lawlkat/status/1029510715961356288?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">August 14, 2018</a></blockquote>
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Something else I came across a lot while reading comments about this was people who insisted that he didn't mean anything sexist by his statement, therefore we shouldn't take them (or him) as being sexist. But that's flat-out wrong. We like to think that sexist, racism, etc have to be blatant and intentional in order to be harmful, but some of the worst infractions are often the ones where there is no conscious malicious intent behind them (indeed, this is what makes these -isms so insidious and damaging). He may not intend to harm women by saying he won't stream with them, but it very much does have consequences, especially when it legitimizes that as a choice for other prominent male gamers, and further marginalizes female ones.<br />
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Our words, our actions, have consequences, and hiding your head in the sand about them doesn't make them go away.Marcyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00792375260633790983noreply@blogger.com0