Oh, RATS!

I felt like a lab rat this week...and then I ended up becoming one! Pretty exciting stuff, really. Last we met, you'll remember, I was moaning and groaning about nausea induced by Xeloda, my oral chemo drug. Sadly for me, that situation continued to deteriorate, and by the end of the day on Monday, I had vomited at least 5 times, despite multiple doses of anti-nausea medicine. My onocologist, bless him, answers my emails at all hours, and so at some point on Monday, he said to take a few days off from my Xeloda and come into the clinic on Tuesday if I needed fluids. At 1 in the morning, I send a pathetic little email to my team and said, yes, please! to the fluids...and to another, stronger anti-nausea drug. 

When I roused myself on Tuesday morning, my oncologist's nurse, Roxanne, who is truly one of the most efficient human beings I've ever met, had already sent me a note telling me that I had a chair ready to go at the infusion clinic for fluids and Kytril (the anti-nausea drug). I rolled into the clinic around ten and they took me back right away, even setting me up with a private room - probably because I looked like hell, as the staff pointed out when they saw me, "Hi, Jessica...Oh! What's wrong?" :D   I thankfully laid down on that beautiful bed...and then promptly threw up again. Nick was with me. Altogether, this became a 5 hour stay at the clinic, complete with blood draws, two bags of fluid, some Kytril, and (for good measure) some Ativan, which not only helps ease anxiety, but also helps stave off nausea. I don't know who invented these drugs, but mark me down for a donation in their honor. 

By the time I got home, I was pretty wrung out. Barfing, it turns out, takes a lot out of you. So I retired to my chambers. On Wednesday, I still felt pretty shaky and awful, unfortunately. Between the drugs they gave me to keep me from throwing up and the fact that I didn't eat anything all day the day before - coupled with my already sketchy driving skills - I was in no position to be driving. This really bummed me out, because one of my honors students was defending her thesis, and I wound up having to phone it in rather than drive all the way to Boulder. (Sorry, Veronica!) I also knew I needed to save up what little energy I had for the next two days because there was a very exciting conference going on at UCH (University of Colorado Hospital) and I had weaseled my way into being a part of it!

The conference was a Research Advocacy training conference run by the organization Fight Colorectal Cancer. This amazing organization has decided to train non-medical personnel to be research advocates so that they are well situated to sit on review boards and clinical trial panels, speak out about the need for research in the realm of CRC, and be the public faces of this devastating disease. I had seen an email or a Facebook post about the conference, which was being held at UHC, at some point, and then had noted that my oncologist, Wells Messersmith, was a featured speaker at the conference, so in my shrinking violet fashion, I sent him a very courteous and ladylike email, which basically said, (and I quote), "I want to do this. Can I do this?" Wells, being the good-humored human being that he is, agreed to get me in touch with the organizers, and so we wound up having a phone interview last week and they agreed to allow me to join their training. This was particularly charitable of them, because almost 100 people applied for these spots, and they only awarded 24. But I was confident that I would be an excellent addition. If my research, editing, writing, and speaking skills can't be used in my classroom, where can they make the biggest difference? 

Which brings me to my next point. I can't tell you how happy this arrangement made me, and at a point when I really needed a boost. As you know, we've been moving, and over the last week or two, my husband and I finally got around to setting up our shared office, which is both gorgeous and functional. Once I finished putting all my textbooks away, though, I was overcome with a deep sense of grief. Here I was, 40 years old, with an office I could have only dreamed of 10 years ago, full of amazing textbooks and monographs and interesting projects and binders full of lectures of which I've written every single word...and now I basically have no classes to teach. You see, I've been on medical leave 3 out of the last 5 semesters, and will be on leave again for the Spring. To feel like I'm being forced into (at least semi-) retirement so early in my career...well, it's heartbreaking. Like, can't get out of bed, refuse to turn the lights on, won't even read a new book depressing. I don't mean to be all poor me, but...I love my job. I ADORE my students. I am an educator all the way down to the tips of my toes and love nothing more than to come up with new syllabi that will challenge and delight my kids. I LOVE seeing them make connections, and question their sources, and recognize the complexity of policymaking and history and culture. It's true. I really, really love every minute of it. But right now I can't enjoy that, because fucking cancer came along and made my health status so uncertain that I could wind up in the hospital any day of the week (see above) and I can't live up to the very necessary and meaningful promises that I've made to my dedicated, brilliant, curious, funny, ready to change the world students (also see above), and I refuse to leave them just hanging out there wondering if I'm going to be there for them. So I've opted out, painfully and necessarily. 

Yeah. Pretty bummed. 

But then! Along came FightCRC and this Research Advocacy training opportunity last week! I will be able to review clinic trials and offer insight into how a new drug might be received from the patient side. I'll be working to drum up funding to make this shitty disease history. I even have some ideas about how to help patients who are diagnosed with advanced disease right away, here and now, at the medical center in which I've placed so much trust and faith and received so very much in return.

In the end, I made it to the training days - a little late the first day because I had an infusion, and a little late the second day because, well, I am just not good getting up in the morning. And I had to go to bed last night at 7:45. But it was so worth it! I am now, officially, a member of RATS (the Research Advocacy Training and Support group).  I met other survivors who are MAKING A DIFFERENCE. I met people who care about patients, and who are trying to cure cancer. I got to see cancer cells under a freaking microscope (I swear, one looked just like the Death Star), and I learned about cancer biology. I feel something awakening in me that even the biggest bout of nausea and vomiting can't take away. Yay for RATS!