X: A DECADE

Ten years later. 

Let me introduce you to the current me - I have a joyful life. I love my friends, my family. I find my job interesting. I read, walk, and have a wonderfully calm and content life. Normally I have adventures in foreign lands, but I am responsibly grounded for the time being. I am a big fan of Milwaukee where I live with my heart, Emma. I explore the city as a local tourist. 10 years ago, I had to remind myself that I had to strive for what I want and I got it. Well, I didn’t get the exact daydream; what I ended up with is better. 

Timing can be a beautiful thing. My 10 year anniversary is being rung in with a book in hand. It is titled Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted by Suleika Jaouad. Suleika was diagnosed with leukemia around the same age and she speaks her truth in this autobiography. 

I take solace in that my feelings and responses to the suffering were common: guilt, selfishness, savagery, relief, and a myriad others. This eloquently written book is your skeleton key if you ever want to get into my head. This blog gives you a peak into my headspace, for sure, but Between Two Kingdoms delves deeper. Think snorkeling versus scuba diving. 

What wasn't in this blog? So, so very much. What was in the posts? So much swearing. I do realize that I used this fake blasé attitude as a shield to true feelings, and it is comical at how un-me it is. I thought it sounded strong and that was what I needed to portray. I needed the self-fulfilling prophecy of strength. 

 

From top of mind, here are some minor anecdotes that were missing: 

- I enjoyed the breakfasts at the hospital. Mornings start early in the cancer wing. After attempts to ignore the nurses, they’d eventually nudge me out of bed so that I’d be semiconscious for the gaggle of medical students making their rounds. A breakfast burrito waiting on the other side of being on display is good motivation. 

- Along the food theme, I learned that I really enjoy fake mashed potatoes and I even buy them time to time just to reminisce. 

- One night my mom and I had a good laugh about eating bone marrow in cassoulet. 

- One regret I have is not buying fun wigs. 

- I wore a graduation hat to my final oncology appointment. Dr. Atallah bookended the medical visits and I can confidently say that I made his day. 

- My mom would give me a mini poem and a sweet gift for each milestone. They are featured with my get well cards in an art project that I made.

- When I couldn’t walk well I would prop myself on my shopping cart to get around. I do this now because it is freakin' fun. 

- Press-n-seal is not just useful for storing food, but also to hold in the glob of numbing cream on your port. I have a roll of it in my kitchen and let’s just say that Tupperware is my first pick. 

- There were many acts of love throughout those years. People met me where I could be. I had a chair at a wedding so that I could still be a bridesmaid. A friend once carried me because I couldn’t walk; both a humbling and moving moment (literally).  

- My dad very randomly doodled on my compression socks. To this day I have the sock and also no idea what it is supposed to be. The man’s writing is more like hieroglyphics and there’s no Rosetta Stone for Bernie. 

- The tootsie rolls in the waiting room were a surprising perk. 

- I have a collection of bad art from the cancer group art classes. They always featured boats and birds, this was not a planned theme but I know my heart wanted to sail or fly far far away.  

-  Sleeping is a thread that continued well past treatment. My body had a lot of general healing to do. And depression. There’s something to be said about waking to see someone you care deeply for nearby, especially that moment before they notice you’re awake. There is not a word for that feeling, in English at least, but there should be. 

- “Momma bear” is a true mode. 

- Isolation? This seems familiar. While a majority of people adjusted to a world of masks, hand washing, fear, isolation, I fell back on my learned skills. Thanks post-traumatic growth! This time there was no bustling life continuing without me. I was comforted that at least we were all alone, together.

- This list could go one and on; similar to the thank yous to those who supported me. 

I waffle over whether or not the fact that I had limited pictures and documentation is a good thing. Pictures tell a story that I could never write. They capture moments that you originally miss but catch later. I have journals from the time, but the entries are sporadic. To read them is both emboldening and heart wrenching at the same time. Maybe it’s for the best that my brain gets to pick and choose the past. My moon face being featured in limited pictures - that’s definitely a perk. OK, so it’s settled. It’s for the better. 

Ten years later, cancer hasn't faded as much as I had hoped it would. I realize that as time ticks on my life's clock I don’t get further from cancer because of its fallout. As time goes by it just means that it has given a hue to more and more of my life. Fears, triggers such as bloody noses & bruises, and chronic pain are the new chapters of this thing that happened to me. On the flip side I have gained wisdom, coping mechanisms, patience, empathy, community, strength, courage, vulnerability (still working on this), joy (suffering is a seed), gratitude, see previously mentioned COIVID note, and empowering memories too. Thanks to cancer I even taught myself to love onions, and I still do (pro-tip: good for the blood flow when you have clots).

I also think I might be slightly stuck on the “cancer years” since they were full of intensity - emotions and actions - and my life (thankfully) hasn’t had anything as consistently epic since. Not yet at least. I’ve had wondrous blips of epic - hiking mountains, floating in the Dead Sea, sand storms on the Sahara, motorcycle rides - but nothing sustained. I’ve come far these past years in healing emotionally. I think I’m ready now for the next exciting epic life chapter. I’m ready.

Seven, 7, Siete, Sieben, VII

Seven years.

Seven years.

Seven years.

Seven years that I almost never had. 

Wow.  

Seven years ago today my arch nemesis entered my life.  In previous writings I said that my world was flipped upside down for while, but I realized my world didn't necessarily flip back. Instead, I came to live in the upside down world.  It became my new normal.  I thought that I would simply be a visitor in this town, but I have come to be an active participant.  I'm an advocate for my fellow fighters.      

My mind brought me back to this blog when the date sunk in.  I read through a handful of posts.  Some made me smirk while others made me sigh and say 'Oh Katrina...'  The blog is also so full of gaps.  The path to today is a collection of memories of pride and support, but also of times that I want to shake the past me that I see in my memory thought bubble.  That's life.  That's also what I have to offer the world.  My story.  

Today is a great reminder of the unseen complexities internally bouncing around someone.  I am teary-eyed yet smiling as I write this.  My mind is a whirlwind of gratefulness, anger, love, confusion, pride, and unknowns that I'm still sifting though...  Seven years and this date still has a powerful effect on me.   

I fought to stay here because I had people that I wasn't ready to leave.  You all know who you are - expect big hugs from me.  I'm so, so very grateful that I am here to do just that.  

You all should give some big hugs to your people too.  

Leukemia Research Foundation: Survivor Spotlight

Hello!  It's me again! I was asked to write up amy survivor story for the Leukemia Research Foundation.  I figure this dormant blog might still be making it's rounds & my anonymous readers may be thinking "what's this chick up to these days?"  Well here's a piece of my story... as seen on this Web site.  I didn't have an agenda when I went to write it, but it turns out I wrote a letter to past myself saying "You'll be OK.  You are OK." Survivor Spotlight Saturday: Katrina Lord

Me (Katrina) during my first weeks of treatment (Feb. 2011) Let me introduce myself. I'm a twenty-nine year old business analyst in information technology and I live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. My passions in life are traveling, my husky/lab mutt Emma, reading, and spending time with friends and family. Oh and one other thing, I'm a five year and five month cancer survivor which is why you are reading this. Let’s rewind to February 2011 when I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL); I was 23 years old. My diagnosis hit right when I was dipping my toe into independence. Upon diagnosis, my independence and life as I knew it was metaphorically packed away into boxes and I moved back in with my parents. ALL for a female means two and a half years of chemotherapy. I also had a bonus package of three surgeries which extended my stay in my childhood home. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are my favorite humans in all the land and sea, but they’re not who I want as roommates. Cancer diagnosis for anyone means that the world is going to be flipped upside down for a while. My treatment course and monitoring after was mostly taken care of by the staff at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago. There was never a moment of doubt that they had my best interest at heart. Dr. Frankfurt and her team went to battle with me and thanks to them and research, I can tell this story. During a therapy session (which I highly recommend for anyone) we discussed the concept of growth from the struggle. Heidi, my fantastic psychologist, had a fancy phrase for it that I can’t recall. But I do remember smirking the first session she brought it up. Ha! Growth from this sh!t … grumble, grumble. At this time the only growth I was focused on was my hair. I claimed that a side effect of chemo was snark (we dubbed the potions “b!tch” juice for a reason). My hair did grow and so did I. I even ended up choosing (keyword) to keep a pixie cut for quite a while. If it weren't for cancer I would never have known that I have "the bone structure" for the style or that a lot of people are facial bone structure experts. It was the only bone compliment I'd receive, not just because it's an odd compliment, but because my bones would turn out to suck due to treatment regimens. As an outcome of cancer, I have titanium hips, an arm that is in a forever angle, and a collapsed shoulder. I still do yoga and take boxing classes because I have learned to channel anger thanks to survivorship and own who I am, a bubbly warrior with some goofy looking warrior poses and no kicking abilities. If I were to say I'm over cancer like a bad habit, it'd be a lie. A lie that I’d love to tell, but it's important for us warriors to tell each other (and our warrior entourages) the truth. It's ok to wrestle with your cancerous present and past. I will forever be learning from the struggle because the diagnosis has a way of appearing in nooks and crannies of my life. My survivorship means that I make an effort to appreciate the lessons and to find the silver lining of the cloud. Or to learn to love the cloud itself, even if it is a thundercloud. What are these lessons? Being a warrior of cancer means that you have been granted into a club that you never wanted to join. But hey – we’re a great community of survivors. We get it. One of my dearest and bestest friends was introduced to me because of cancer. He’s a platinum lining. Cancer warriors, look around you – nurses, doctors, friends, family, and strangers are cheering you on and they will keep on doing that long after you finish the last dose. The love can be overwhelming. Drown in it. They’ll save you. And then one day, you can return the favor by being a cancer buddy to someone else. I signed up as a mentor through Imerman’s Angels (a wonderful organization that matches up cancer patients and caretakers with people that have been there too) and met a wonderful young lady who taught me to see different silver linings. I also can now see the selfless love that was always there. Words cannot describe what my parents’ sacrifices mean to me. I appreciate my parents more because of the bumpy road we navigated together. And now I aspire to spread the selfless love. I also appreciate the things I used to take for granted. Every morning and evening I take my dog for a walk. Some days, I am grateful simply to walk. When things get taken away, you really like them more when you get them back. It’s a terrible truth, but it’s how it works. I learned that I inspired my community because I worked hard at getting back my independence. I was able to inspire them to appreciate their own health. Every day I soak in the wonder that is life. Beauty is everywhere when you look for it. It’s completely a cheesy paragraph, but cheese is good. Remember, I live in Wisconsin. Sometimes it’s tougher to see the little things to appreciate. Sometimes you have to take the sucky things and make them good. Jokes are an amazing defense. I learned how to laugh at myself and at the situation that was forced upon me. It wasn’t always pretty, and it took a while to learn. But now I have an arsenal of jokes that make me and anyone else more comfortable with the scars and dark cloud that cancer tends to be. Optimism is a skill that takes practice. Cancer is a great trainer for honing such skills. I can now find a smile at the hardest of times, but I also learned to feel those feels. It’s a delicate balance. Me (still Katrina) in May 2016 with mount Fuji in the background I have also learned to carpe the crap out of the diem. Translation: I am seizing the day. I am more apt to say yes. After being cleared for takeoff I have gone to Puerto Rico, Nicaragua, Japan, and on dates. Dating being the scariest of the list. But the point is, I am living life because I have a second go at it. I had the fire lit under my bum and learned not to dillydally away my days, unless of course I want to dillydally. I celebrate my everyday life now. That doesn’t mean I pop open a bottle of champagne on a daily basis, but it means that I actively choose to enjoy every day. What I’m trying to say in this babbling post is that survivorship can be empowering. It is about loving yourself and owning your past which is a lesson that I can apply beyond my cancer years. Survivorship is taking your jaded self and turning it into a prism instead.

Post # 66: I am a SURVIVOR

After a long, internal debate I have decided to retire my blog.  What better time than when we are coming up to the one year anniversary of being cancer free?

The big C has won some battles, but I won the war.  Fly the metaphorical flag at half mast for the casualties (my right shoulder, tears, time, friends, blah blah blah) and celebrate the victories (25th birthday, lessons learned, blessings, etc).  I'm spending my 366-clean-days anniversary with Mr. and Mrs. Lord.  I want to celebrate the day with them, so I invited them up to Madison for the weekend.  (E, we will call you on a four-way phone call since you'll be working).

Truly, I will miss writing the blog.  I enjoyed it which was a pleasant surprise.  I'm thinking of starting up a new one soon, but it is time to move on from the chemo-driven topics.  I have more b!tch juice, struggles, triumphs and good GREAT days ahead of me, but they will not be documented here.

So, thank you readers for sticking around through this tumultuous ride through Katrina's World.  It has been a hard trip, but I think we are returning to the main road safely together.  The detour is coming to an end!

I will leave you with these two tokens:

One, here is a link to a blog that I find useful - the author Kris Carr's book was my Bible:  http://networkedblogs.com/s6POb

And two, here is my theme song lately -  it's called "Get Thru This" by Art of Dying http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMRjWGr9sH4&ob=av2n

All the best,
Katrina Jeannette

Baby It's a Wild World

Step by Step
My good friends put together Team Navigating the Roadblock last year and as I boasted before - they were the top fundraisers!  This year a few of the girls are on the board for the Leukemia Research Foundation.  Ironically, I have grown up with the foundation.  My mom has been a member for my entire life (if that length of time is wrong, then I'll state that it at least seemed like it).  I helped out at the annual fashion shows and attended the weekly meetings with her.  Truthfully, I wanted to grow up to be a member.

Here's a link to the Web site:
http://www.leukemia-research.org

Here I am, "grown up" and instead of a member I am receiving aid from them.  Cancer is an expensive hobby.  Beyond the assistance, LRF is an advocate in medical research.  Leukemia treatment has gone leaps and bounds in the progress in the past five years.  But let's be frank, it has leaps and bounds to go.  I always remind myself, all that I am going through is what little kids are going through too.  Scary.  It keeps my pity parties in check.  It also gives me all the more reason to hound people to support my cause...

So, in case I haven't bugged you in another form... here's the address for my fundraising page:
http://www.active.com/donate/lrf2012/KLord16

Drip by Drip
I am getting closer and closer to the end of chemo-fication.  June 24, 2013, June twenty-fourth two thousand thirteen, 06/24/2013, 24 June 2013... looks good from all angles.  I had another dosage today.  I am still not quite where Doc wants me to be in counts so that's always a bit of a worry, but she assures that it's more of a matter of mixing up the right dosages for my dailies.  I had another lumbar puncture which is a nice way of saying spinal tapping and it went smoothly.  Mom and Dad had presents for some of the team today.  Mom made an adorable blanket for Doctor's baby girl so moods were all happy and eyes a little teary. 

Inch by Inch
My 'do' is coming in nice and thick.  I get a lot compliments and in the most unexpected places.  The remarks make me feel a bit more comfortable in it, but I still haven't been able to truly tame it and rock it.  I have some crazy cow licks and curls going on.  But I am SO HAPPY to have it back that I just let it go crazy and call it a happy non-bald day.

Shot by Shot
Despite my wile counts, I am hopping a plane in a few weeks.  MARCH MADNESS BABY!  Dad and I are heading to the final four in New Orleans!!  I am pumped.  Marquette is also stoking the fire for my excitement since they are looking good (minus tonight).  They are just saving their wins for the tourney.

Line by Line
This post is getting wordy so I will sign off.  Till next time!

One year ago today...

was the diagnosis day.   I'm not sure how I am supposed to act today.  I feel as though I'm supposed to do something special, but I kind of feel numb.  Last year news came that threw my world into a whirlwind.  Thanks for a year of love, prayers and good thoughts.  I felt them all.

If you see me, just smile.  That's all I want.  


With love,
K

Among the Wildflowers

G'day

I report to you from the melting city of Madison.  The bit of snow is melting vigorously.  I am a big fan of this winter.  We had the best of both worlds - pretty snow and warm days.

I started physical therapy (PT) this morning.  I am very excited to continue the exercises and stretches that my physical therapist assigned to me.  I have a drive within to progress the mending quicker than expected.  My physical therapist was great and he has my optimism soaring.  I can't ask for anything more on those fronts.

I had another dose of the magic juice last Thursday.  I was very nervous for my spinal chemo since the last couple were a bit of a struggle due to scar tissue forming.  Too many pokes of the needle.  All the worry was a waste - things went smoothly.  All of the discussions with my Northwester posse were happy reports and so the smiling carries on.

Unless if you live under a rock, you know that yesterday was Valentine's day.  I have a beautiful bouquet of lilies as a souvenir.  Ross pulled out all of the tricks.  He cooked dinner with Michael Buble crooning in the background that was lit with candles.  What a guy.

Last year we skimmed over Valentine's day because I was with Erin rocking out to Ozzy and Slash.  Great times spent with my sister.  She'll be visiting Madison this spring :)

Things have perked up a lot since the beginning of the year.  I'm going to roll with it.  Smile!

Today's theme:  Tom Petty - Wildflowers - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1G-42RYWRvE

A simple round of conversation

Yesterday marked a momentous occasion - my wig is officially retired.  I went into the office without my wig and received many compliments on my "hair cut."  I've told a few people this next bit already but it's worth a repeat.  With this hair do, I need to buy some owl stuff and a few over-sized flannels.  It is so hipster.   I will have to wear it with irony.

Random thought - do you think the first "r" in February feels under-utilized?  I imagine it's the skinny, kid saying "What about me?" in gym class.  Or am I the only one that completely skips over it when saying February? 

Another random thought - when I was researching how to raise Emma a lot of sites warned that puppies will sometimes have issues about separation anxiety.  They did not warn about MY separation anxiety.  Maybe she can hide under my desk when I come to the office.  She would totally fit under my desk.  I hope she misses me this much too... I hope she's blogging about my absence.

A final random thought - a compilation of songs serve as a guidebook to life.  I popped in some of my high school cd mixes and happily sang and drove from Milwaukee.  There are times when a certain song comes on and it seems like it was written for you.    Do you find that too?

la-la-la-love,
Katrina

Hullabaloo

It's me, your one and only emcee 


I have returned from my six day staycation as pale as when I left.  Mother dearest drove to Madison to accompany me to the bone specialist appointment.  Simply, I was scared to go alone.  Since she was driving back to Midlothian, Emma and I hopped a ride to the sandless, sunless, palm treeless land for a mini-vacay.  I needed a rejuvenation and Emma needed to meet Dad and the OFHS crew.  She was well behaved and made me proud.  


The week was a nice breath of fresh air.  I was also pumped up with new blood on Tuesday so that may be a factor in the pep in my step.  Vampires tend to perk up with new blood.  The weekend was full of laughs since that's always how it goes with my girls.  I also got to spend time with Mom and Dad, which after living home for so the stint, was very welcome.  


So the skinny on what's going on: to sum it up my right shoulder and left hip are not fairing well due to the treatments that have been beating me up.  I was doing well in the boxing ring but it seems that the chemo took round 3 with a K.O.   

I am going to give physical therapy a go and see how the joints feel.  The only option other than grinning through the pain is a replacement hip and/or shoulder.  I am not ready to be Bionic Katrina quite yet; I was thinking maybe 50 years down the road...  then I can make jokes about my artificial sweetener but not quite yet.    


One day this too will just be a faint memory that I can shake my head at with a smirk of mirth fueled by the triumph.  

babble, babble, babble

My Bane, Treatment

Last week, I made my monthly pilgrimage to Chicago.  It fell at a time when my usual buddies were busy so I went solo.  I was weary about going by myself, but it turned out to be a good experience.  One on one time with my doctor and nurses proved to be very informational.   A few tough items have come up, which I will divulge unto cyberspace at a later date.  I haven't dealt with them mentally/physically yet so they're not ready for the world to digest either.  The strength will come, just not yet.

On the happy side!  I have a new date that I will countdown to with joy... 

JUNE 24, 2013!!!

It's my end date.  

I am so pumped.  It's next year!!!!!!  

My Buddy, Emma

The little dear happily napped with me throughout this week.  I spent a majority of my week creating Zs since I caught a cold and my counts plummeted.   Her husky side is poofing through with the fall of snow.  She loves the stuff.  She comes inside looking like Chappelle with white powder all over her snout all jazzed up and rearing to go.   At times I want to squeeze her to pieces because she is so freaking adorable and at other times I want to shake her.  But that's puppies.

My Happenings...

They have been limited because I limp due to fractures in my hip (call me Edith, not kidding) and low energy.  However, I was able to make it to an annual get together in Milwaukee with my girlfriends.  MU pride!  I had fun, and I did my best to keep up with the celebration.  However, I know my medical entourage would want to shake me if they knew what I was up to.  But that's twenties.

Madison has begun to get mundane.  I haven't been able to start any of my plans - yoga, classes, etc. which I was really looking forward to.  I also had to skip out on plans due to the disappointing counts, which is nothing new but it still tough.  

Is it just me or are there violins wailing in the background?