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January 28, 2007
Life of a Cancer Patient...
Okay, that title is a bit melodramatic. It's been my refrain this whole weekend. In some ways, that's worked out rather well for me: my folks graciously let me hold Isaac most of the time he was here this afternoon. In some ways, that has been stupid: I bought three pairs of shoes at Bloomingdale's on Saturday. In the moment, I got a rush from the great bargains. But now I have buyer's remorse - the thigh high boots are made of man made material (not leather) and the Cole Haan pumps will probably cause blisters because there isn't enough padding to protect my feet from the decorative grommets near the toes.
In any event, I'm excited that my mom is making me two new scarves to help me cover up the scar that will be left on my neck. Plus, soft scarves are like mini-security blankets.
I can't tell you how long the surgery will be. I'll be under full anesthesia. And I have to be at the hospital at 7 a.m. That's if I get my insurance straightened out - it's a frickin mess. I got a form letter stating that my work health insurance (Blue Cross of California) wont cover pre-existing conditions until May 1. This counters the verbal advice I received from HR - that pre-existing conditions would be covered as long as I've had six months of continuous coverage prior to the start of the work plan. And then there's the $1.27 that Ceridian thinks I owe them for my January Cobra coverage. (The bill they sent me was $1.27 lower than the price they now claim for this month.) I sent in a check for two bucks on Friday and hopefully all of this will be sorted out before Friday. If not, I'll have to reschedule the surgery.
In reality, this is just a small part of what's on my mind. Perhaps I'm focusing on other things as a defense mechanism. I don't really want to think about myself as a cancer patient. I'm still trying to figure out why most of my friends haven't responded to any of my emails.
Reflecting on Life
My friend Chris was the first to tell me that cancer would change my life in a positive way. I scoffed at first, but I am trying to live up to the uniqueness of this moment in my life. Here's what I've observed so far:
Most people don't understand the connection between my paid work and my passions. They think I wont be happy until I quit my job. I think this is rather ridiculous. Further, it pisses me off that people aren't happy for me - I enjoy my job. I'm damn good at it. And I'm learning a lot. I'm learning the most effective ways to do direct marketing, I'm learning how to work on a schedule and get others to work with you, and I'm learning how to interface with the people who pay for your work. All of these things can be easily translated into nonprofit direct marketing. As importantly, I am respected by my coworkers and supervisors and I am finally on a career track. I'm not saying I'll do this work for the rest of my life, but it feels good to be able to pay my bills and see the light at the end of the debt tunnel.
In activism, I am so excited to be part of the Courage Campaign. It feels great to be a part of something that has an immediate impact on the political landscape. It also feels good to have some of my blog posts viewed by lots of people.
WILPF continues to be my activist home, but I'm struggling to keep up with all of my responsibilities. I'm the National Program Chair, a member of the national Steering Committee, chair of the national ad hoc Communications Committee, on the international communications committee, member of the local branch board, and blog administrator. When I was unemployed, I could easily keep up with all of these things. Now that I occasionally work till 7:30, I don't feel like I've been able to do any of these tasks completely. Sadly, even asking for help during my cancer recovery time hasn't brought out any new volunteers for my duties.
And then, of course, there's the fact that I'm living in the San Fernando Valley. Moving home last September was a bit hard. I was scared about having quit my job and fearful that it would take me a long time to find a new job. And going from my own apartment to being a guest in my folks' house wasn't exactly thrilling. But most importantly, it forced me to find closure on my life in Chi-town. Living here, I am no longer constantly reminded of the past. I thought I would find what I was seeking here - I thought the emptiness I felt in Chicago would be filled by my fam and friends at home. Instead, I learned that I must swallow my fear and make myself vulnerable again - I need to put the memories of pain & joy in the past and move forward. This used to be so easy for me. It used to be so easy for me to flit from fling to fling. I guess there's a part of me that wonders if I'll ever find that magical combination of best friend & lover. I guess I'm so clued into what I'm really looking for that I have trouble remembering that dating in and of itself can be exhilarating. Perhaps that'll come once I've recuperated from having an organ cut out of me.
Posted by cj at January 28, 2007 08:00 PM