Diagnosis: Afterparty

When I first got my diagnosis, I really thought cancer was going to look like the stereotype that’s been thrown at us all for decades. I pictured a weak, likely balding person, barely able to get out of a wheelchair leaving chemotherapy. The images in commercials to persuade you to donate to cancer research or outreach. And while I’ve still only had one round of chemo, I never could wrap my head around that image being me. So you can imagine how weird I felt when I showed up on my first day of chemo and there were packages of kind donations from different organizations: blankets, masks, lotions, a crocheted shark, and a ton of handwritten inspirational messages among other gifts. I totally get that not everyone on this journey has the support or the resources I do, but it definitely made me feel like I was taking the first step on the path to become one of those cancer patients from the commercials.

I’ve since found a bunch of social media accounts to follow, of women my age who were diagnosed as stage IV in either colon cancer, or other cancers, and boy was I wrong. These women continued lifting weights, running 10 milers, and yes- rested when their body told them to, or simply went for a walk when a run was too much. While chemo might throw me some bad days, cancer actually looks like getting stronger. Building muscle. Strength training. Running faster. Taking care of my body in nutritious ways I never have. Finally rebuilding that yoga habit I once had when I was younger.

I was almost completely detrained from running when the diagnosis hit; last year’s planning of two weddings (both in Greece and the US) had me skipping a lot of weekly runs when life got too busy. Which is ironic, because I was once the maid of honor during a season where I fully trained for the Las Vegas marathon- and I couldn’t even squeak out more than a 5k last year. I had initially imagined cancer making me hang up my running shoes entirely, but it turns out it’s the perfect excuse to get back into running shape. I haven’t reset any concrete running goals for this year, but as I’ve gotten slightly faster over the last 4 weeks, I’ve promised myself to sneak in progression and improve my pace on the good days. And while the Brooklyn Half Marathon that I was originally selected for is now off the books, there is a colon cancer 5k in New York in October that I have my sights set on, and would be a great excuse to have similar experience while finding more community.

Another random running thought I’ve had is around the marathon. There’s a mantra when training for a marathon, that you must respect the distance. The marathon is a different beast than the half marathon- and it will eat you alive if you’re cocky and don’t have some kind of fear or respect for it. It’s a significant physical challenge that demands proper preparation. I feel the same about chemotherapy. While I’ve not yet experienced anything extreme, I don’t want to downplay it only to come face to face with real symptoms, having not initially respected it. So, every day before chemo day will be prep: prep to come home and be cozy in bed, prep that the apartment is clean, prep my food, and literally any kind of prep that will allow me to fully succumb to it, should it be a bad day.

I’d like to think that the one time I ran the Chicago Marathon for the American Cancer Society, I paid it a little bit forward by raising a bunch of money. Even though I have cousins who’ve run Chicago for ACS zillions of times, I’m hoping my one little contribution is going to come back to me in all of this. Perhaps some of that funding, or the money I raised DJing a “Total Request Live” night where people could pay to request a song or have me play a song sooner, was funneled into one of the drugs that will be funneled into me tomorrow. I’d like to think so, at least.

Tomorrow, you ask?

Honestly, without all of the running I’ve done lately, I probably wouldn’t be in a good headspace to deal with the whiplash of this last week. I received a call this morning from my current oncologist’s office, telling me that the new hospital’s trial is on hold for the time being. They still want to see me, and meet with a new oncologist, but also instructed my current oncologist to resume chemotherapy as scheduled. So, after the rollercoaster that was last week, chemo is back on for tomorrow morning. I couldn’t be more thrilled that we’re back on schedule. I’m still positive I’m the only person in the world pumped for chemo; I checked the weather tomorrow and it looks like a great day to clock another mile in the cancer marathon.