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.