California Dreamin'

We just returned from five days in California. Stayed with family, went to Venice Beach, hit Hollywood and Olveras Street (had to get our cultural immersion, right?), hung out at the pool, and - for the grand finale - made our way through that childhood Mecca, Disneyland. It was the first trip to Disney for the kids and my husband, and I loved being able to see it for the first time again, through their eyes. I got to go on my favorite ride of all time: the "It's a Small World" boat ride (I know, I know...I'm a hopeless optimist and romantic at heart - don't tell anyone!), which has just very recently reopened after renovation and looks absolutely gorgeous. Plus there was a deep satisfaction in being able to help my kids cross something off their bucket list.

The whole trip, generally speaking, was a blast. In addition to ticking off the boxes above, I indulged in far too many margaritas (oops), got a good old-fashioned bit of sunburn on my nose (this was the first time in 16 months that I was allowed to be out in the sun at all, so don't start getting all sunscreen-y on me. I know, I know. I wore it. I just missed my nose and didn't mind the freckles), laid around at the pool for most of the day with the other "big kids" (my cousins and their various friends, or as Eric would say, their "homies") while the little kids skittered in and out and were fawned over by the grandparents (my kids fell right into calling my uncle and aunt "grandpa" and "grandma" like the littles they were hanging with...as if it weren't clear enough that we were truly comfortable invading their home), didn't answer email, and generally acted carefree. At one point, my cousin Eric's partner, Melissa, was floating around in the pool and looked at me and said, "I wish this moment could just last forever." Me too, sister. Put a bubble over all of us at the pool and make us into a Cali-style snow globe, with blazing sun substituted for snowflakes. Let us all lay on the pool deck and chit-chat and drink ourselves silly while we watch the world go by. Crank up the music a little more and sing along to 90s tunes without feeling the least bit ironic or jaded, for just a little longer.

But, alas. Life calls us from the pool. There were final grades to submit for my summer online course...and difficult decisions to make. We discovered two days before leaving for Cali that the little spots (each less than half an inch in size, so small-small) on my lungs (three of them) that everyone has been watching for the last year have increased a bit in size, enough so that the oncologist is pretty sure they are metastases and wants to get them gone. So there's that. It's actually good news - only a "leetle bit" of cancer for you this time around, Jessica! What a fucking weird world I live in that I find this hilariously good news - good enough that I didn't even mind thinking of it much while we were on vacation. The fantastic news was that there were no signs of new lesions or recurrence in my liver. I'll drink to that. (Oh, yeah, the no drinking thing just didn't work for me - my edema actually got WAY worse when I stopped and I am blaming my lack of wine with dinner.)

So. Third time. Third time's charm, right? We are hoping for non-invasive surgery to remove the lesions - another round of SBRT engineered by the very talented Tracey Schefter, which I had back in February and March for the lesions on my liver. More on that plan after we meet with Dr. Schefter this week. The actual therapy is fast and relatively easy on the system - I mean, there's increased risk of cancer, but what the fuck. Before the therapy sessions there are multiple sessions where they have to measure your insides and take a bunch of ct scans and do some magic math to figure out how to target the lesions with their highly potent and very targeted radiation beam or whatever it is. Then they make a cast of your body for you to lay in, so that you don't accidentally fry your pancreas or kidneys or something by mistake. Side effects are fatigue and localized pain; with the lungs, there are chances that you can get a special (oh, so special!) kind of pneumonia. And then the follow-up may or may not consist of chemo.

Anyway. Enough about the specifics. (Not that I actually appear to know anything specific, I'm noting after rereading the previous paragraph. Let's just say math doesn't make me curious like, say, world affairs or new fiction releases do.)  With all of this ahead, I had to decide whether to tackle fall semester or take another leave. After a lot of back and forthing and many, many tears, I've decided to take the leave. I hate to do it. But I hate more, the idea that my students won't have 100% of my attention and devotion and energy. I did that last semester and while it turned out okay - at least, I hope it did - for my students, I was beyond exhausted by the end of it. I'm really just incredibly tired. I need to regroup and get strong and kick this shit to the curb once and for all. Really go all in on the physical work and mental work needed to not just survive cancer but knock it out of the park. I have so many more Disneys to make happen for my kids, you know? They need me around to make the bucket lists and then check items off. Otherwise, how would it all happen? I can't imagine their world without me in it.

So, I'll have a bit of free time this semester, it seems. Anyone want to have lunch with me, just slightly cancerous lady of leisure?