Diagnosis: Afterparty

I promised myself that after the last entry being so deeply emotional, the next one would be a lot lighter. After all, my ultimate goal has been to laugh in the face of cancer and keep the party going.

However, I’d be lying if I said cancer has been all optimism and putting on a brave face, and unfortunately this entry is going to be even deeper than the last. Every day for the last 2 weeks has had tears of some sort. Whether it be just “spontaneous cries” that come and go, with little reasoning, or more thought-provoked tears that have deeper meaning. This week, the tears became even more emotional as the words “incurable” and “buying time” came out of my oncologist’s mouth. With this advanced of cancer, she even said it is certain I will reach a point where I’m going to have to make a decision to continue treatment or focus on quality of life. That point may still be 2-5 years away, but in the meantime, this is going to take over every aspect of my life.

Through all the tears, one thing has stayed constant though: nothing has made me cry harder than thinking about my loved ones handling life without me.

I myself am somehow at peace with a worst-case scenario; I feel like I’ve done a great job at spreading my magic throughout this world and my community. A popular perspective suggests that humans are born to learn how to live a good life, while dogs already know how to do this, explaining why dogs do not need to stay as long. Perhaps I’ve already achieved that? I feel like I’ve done so much, what’s left to do? What do I have left to accomplish? I’m such a planner, and this thing wiped all my plans for the foreseeable future. I don’t even know what the end of this week looks like. And none of this comes from a place of giving up hope, or feeling like this is the end- I promise it’s truly a peaceful feeling. But when I think about my husband navigating a world without me, or my parents, my siblings- would my nephew even remember me? I absolutely fall to pieces.

I’ve been internally struggling with these thoughts since the day I got my diagnosis. I’ve kept it to myself because I was still living in delusional denial, didn’t have enough information yet, and didn’t want to scare anyone around me. It’s my number one topic to explore when I start talking to a therapist about this. However, deep down I know I have tremendous fight in me. I know that I’m not ready to go. I know I have some “why’s” for fighting this thing and am fully cognizant that these current dark clouds are keeping me from seeing them. There’s been people who called to check in unknowingly catching me in the middle or end of that spiral.

As I was contemplating all of this in the shower earlier this week, Rancid’s “Fall Back Down” came on the playlist I was listening to. While the song itself is about divorce, the message couldn’t come at a more poignant time. When my hope begins to flounder, when I start to lose the light, it’s my community that’s going to get me through. Even though I’m still having trouble establishing my “why’s” for fighting, it’s clear to me- measurable by volume of tears alone- that fighting for my people means the most to me. I can not and will not allow them to live in a world without me (at least, not for another half of a century). 

My husband; who we just started building a life together (officially), we have a LOT of life milestones left to enjoy together- he is far and beyond the number one reason that I know I must put up the biggest fight and not drown in my own sorrow. My parents, who’ve dropped everything at every turn in the last two weeks are absolutely NOT burying a child. My family, while not always the most emotionally verbose, are NOT going to have to deal with a loss of this magnitude. I’m absolutely determined to be the crazy aunt dancing at my nephew’s wedding. My friends, who have all checked in on me in thousands of different ways, sent so many gifts, and have dealt with my dark cancer jokes over the course of 14 days, are owed SO much support back, I’m going to need the rest of a long life to repay them my gratitude. My work, who has been amazing throughout this process, and sent a huge box of comforting goodies, will NOT be needing to navigate losing a coworker this way. My DJ and LGBTQ+ community, who have already stepped up in ways I never could imagine, will absolutely have their DJ back to make more magic, and play more ridiculous mashups. This was made so clear this weekend when got to I DJ with my friend DJ Sidekick during a Superbowl party; not only did Kiki send me home with an amazing, gigantic care package, but I know in my bones I have more to do with music.

I’ll find more “why’s” once some of these dark clouds clear a bit. But until then, I can’t allow myself to wallow in hopelessness. For these people.

Incurable does not mean terminal. I’m young, I’m otherwise healthy, there’s a possibility this hasn’t touched my lymph nodes (which would be a good thing) and it’s possible that next Friday’s PET scan will show that Krang has only metastasized to my liver (another good thing). There is still some hope to be had; and miracles happen. People beat the odds. Some people have more fight in them than others. And I have so much fight simply due to the community around me.