Round 3 Underway

I'm Well set Into the third treatment cycle now. My counts were good, so We continued the dose escalation another 20%, such that I'm receiving a dose 40% stronger than the first cycle. I'm feeling lucky, sentimental, retrospective and introspective, and generally blessed. For these reasons, each of them at least loosely attributable to, I expect a multitude of posts over the next few days. Keep an eye out!

Chocolate Chip Muffies: The Best of Two Wonderful Worlds

 What do you get when you bake chocolate chip cookie dough in a muffin tin? Well, muffies, of course! I saw this idea in the AllTheCooks app that I use somewhat religiously and immediately had to try it. You have all the taste of a perfect, homemade chocolate chip cookie, with the added pluses of a crisp, almost caramelized edge, and a moist, gooey interior. It's the best of every chocolate chip dough world! Here's the recipe if you want a luscious treat:





CHOCOLATE CHIP "MUFFIES"
(Recipe courtesy an AllTheCooks app user)

• 1 c. butter
• 1 c. white sugar
• 1/2 c. firmly packed brown sugar
• 2 eggs
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla
• 2 1/3 c. all-purpose flour, unsifted
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 12 oz. chocolate chips (1 bag)

1. Preheat oven to 375F.
2. Cream sugars and butter until light and fluffy.
3. Add eggs and beat well.
4. Beat in salt, baking soda, and vanilla.
5. Add flour a cup at a time, mixing well, but just enough to incorporate.
6. Stir in chocolate chips.
7. Spoon batter into greased cupcake tins (do not use cupcake liners) using enough batter to fill each cup approximately halfway.
8. Bake for approximately 20-22 minutes, or until lightly browned on top.
9. Makes about 18 "muffies."

Steroid Dependency: A Serious Conversation I Think I Might Be Having Soon

Prednisone is a steroid used to treat everything from asthma to colitis. It's also used frequently in chemo regimens because it depresses immune system responses thus allowing for the cytotoxins (chemo drugs) to do their job without interference. A typical dose is between 5mg and 20mg, taken on and off at regular intervals. And put simply, it makes you feel like could clean your entire neighborhood in one day. Now imagine that, while in the hospital, I'm on 240mg of the stuff EACH DAY! Oh my god, my family. At the very least, they've eaten well, because I've been inspired to make some off-the-wall down-right-gourmet meals while on this stuff. But for all the benefits prendisone offers, it is similar to nearly every other prescription-only drug in that you run a high-risk of developing dependence on it.

If you are on prednisone for longer than a week or so, as I am, your body begins to shut down production of its own natural corticosteroids, and if you stop taking prednisone suddenly, you can develop serious kidney problems. This is why you are usually tapered off the steroid over the course of several days. But because prednisone introduces such a rush of corticosteroids into the body, eventually your body might just stop producing them anyway, leading to steroid dependency. If you taper off the drug while you are steroid dependent, get ready for a bumpy ride. On top of it, because I have colitis at the moment (and perhaps permanently), I almost always get a flare-up on the last day or two of the taper, and afterwards I basically have no digestive comfort until I go back on the prednisone. If it turns out, after my chemo is completed, that I still have colitis, I will likely be on prednisone on and off for the rest of my life. But if not, I'm a bit worried at the moment about how I'm going to manage getting permanently off of it. Thus, I will be having a serious conversation with my doctor soon, and if you begin to notice symptom development around the time of your own taper, I'd suggest you consider having this conversation too.

Ouch: Hurting in Places You Didn't Know Exist

Cancer produces a unique type of pain. Candidly, I thought (as I'm sure so many others did) that I would be immune to cancer pain, and my general well-being after my first treatment gave me no reason to suspect otherwise. Then a few days before round two, chemo and I met in a dark alley somewhere, and chemo won. The most common type of cancer pain is called neuropathy, which involves any number of symptoms relating to sensation or control of the limbs and extremities. My legs hurt constantly, and what began as impaired control of my right arm has now progressed to the most annoying, dull-ache sensation I have ever felt. It's as if someone is constantly pulling my arm outward from the socket, and there is little to no reprieve from it. Neuropathy is a serious issue that should be addressed with your doctor. She or he is not likely to worry about it, as long it goes away, but if it becomes more persistent, then it must be treated. Moreover, the symptoms will likely continue months to even a year after your last treatment (oh yay me!). My experience with neuropathic pain has led me to the following habits or suggestions for anyone else who is just starting chemo or who is dealing with this fabulously annoying and often very disconcerting pathology:

1. When possible, arrange to be driven to and from wherever you need to be. You just never know when neuropathic pain is going to change, and getting a sudden spasm or losing control of your arms or legs while driving could... well, let's just say you might not need chemo anymore.
2. Always have pain medication handy, in the original bottle to avoid issues with law enforcement. ALWAYS!
3. Consider alternative/holistic treatments (within reason and after consultation with your doctor). I, for one, am a big fan of Reiki massage, which involves only the lightest touch to help stimulate healing. It sounds a bit coo-coo, I know, but after one session, trust me I'm hooked. And I'm a man of science!
4. When having a neuropathic episode, such as losing control of a limb, talk to it. (Yea I know, coo-coo.) Okay, don't do this in public. :) But seriously, talking to your limb, almost willing it to move, is actually neurologically sound, as it forces the brain to send impulses to the limb and may help stimulate recovery. Visualizing your limb moving while you're doing this can help too. For that matter, neuropsychologists and medical researchers have suggested lately that "seeing" yourself getting better during treatment seems to actually improve the efficacy of the treatment. (My we are complicated beings.)
5. Finally, massage or lightly caress the affected limb while your having pain or loss of control. This helps stimulate bloodflow to the area and can improve mobility and ease the pain.

Sit Down for This One, Cuz' It Might Make Ya Faint...

I have been very, very lucky so far. Because my white cell counts have been normal, I have not required any supportive care, but just mention the words "supportive care" to an experienced cancer patient and she is likely to cringe. This is because "supportive care" is just a fancy way of saying, "you need to get Neupogen or Neulasta." No, we don't cringe because it is given in syringe form, nor because it hurts, nor because it has any particular side effects; rather, we cringe because Neupogen costs $3,000.00 PER INJECTION! It gets worse: Neulasta costs more than twice that. The decision between the two is a consideration of your particular progress and exactly how compromised your counts might be. Chemo wreaks havoc on your immune system and if your counts get too low, you might require the more costly injection, which involves a larger molecule of the main active ingredient, filgrastim, thus allowing the body to process it over a longer period of time. Either way, you're stuck up the proverbial estuary, without means of locomotion. And don't think insurance gets you off. Mine and many other plans are not exactly crazy about the cost of this, so don't be surprised if you get a bill anyway. There is hope, however. If you qualify, at least, a group known as The Safety Net Foundation offers assistance to people who are prescribed medications from the Amgen pharmaceutical company (yes, they have a bit of reputation for way overpricing their drugs). Aside from this, you just have to hope and pray that your counts stay good, and I'd recommend consuming lots of orange juice or other Vitamin C-rich products to give your immune system a hand where you can. For now, this issue remains highly controversial, and I consider myself very lucky to have avoided it so far. Nonetheless, I may have to receive this medication at some point, and I am sympathetic to those who receive it on a regular basis. Consider this: 6 round of chemo X $3,000.00/injection = $18,000 alone! By comparison, adriamycin (a common and powerful anti-cancer drug) costs between $25 and $75 per cycle. Something is majorly wrong here.

A Must-Have for the Technologically-Inclined Chemo Patient

If you are like me, and addicted to your smartphone, you understand the epic battle that occurs between the "need" to have constant access to the world of social media and the reality of a limited phone battery. Aside from this, I normally am on the road several days a week, and it is important for the mental health of my family and friends that my phone be always available. I recently discovered the ZeroLemon battery (I'm not a paid spokesperson), which I can personally attest to being able to keep a phone alive for upwards of three days on a single charge. I believe these are mostly for Samsung/Android devices, but the general sentiment here remains. If you use a smart phone, I recommend purchasing an extended battery so that while you're in the hospital you can enjoy phone access readily and without the frustration of having to find an outlet that works with your IV stand (I hate those things). It's not something you would normally think about, but trust me, it will make treatments (and your life) a lot easier, and almost all of them are very affordable at around $40 or less!

Happy Memorial Day

In memory of my grandfather, Carmen N. Veneziano, who fought bravely for our country during World War II, and in memory and honor of the countless other veterans who have made the ultimate sacrifice for God and country, a heartfelt and blessed Memorial Day, and thank you.

"Navigating Cancer:" A Must-See Resource for Anyone Touched by Cancer

Full disclosure: I am not currently paid or supported by any site or company to run this blog or endorse. That said, I was so overwhelmed by the depth and sophistication of a particular site I came across that I decided to devote a whole post to it. Navigating Cancer is a completely free all-in-one resource for understanding, treating, managing, and watching cancer with specific portals for physicians and cancer patients, as well as their supporters. On the patient end, it allows you to share your story, links you with any of the nearly 50,000 users who have shared experiences, offers blogs and testimonials related to treatment and management of side effects, and offers many very practical resources such as an appointment manager and a prescription manager. I suspect that this site will be very helpful to me in the future, and if you haven't done so already, I highly recommend you check it out.

Scanxiety: Yup, It's a Thing

And I got it. Let's break it down. Scan. Anxiety. Scanxiety. Got it? If you're still scratching your head, this is the general nervousness cancer patients feel when approaching the date of one of the minimum two PET scans that will be done to confirm that the tumors are shrinking. I feel pretty confident that the scan is going to go well, but I'm nervous nonetheless. What I'm trying to do to manage these feelings is resort to the more regular information I get related to my health, namely my bloodwork results, and they have been remarkably good. Additionally, my lymph nodes have shrunk considerably, so the point here is that I'm likely to hear that the tumor has also shrunk. The question is how much? Then again, I'm not quite at the halfway point of my regimen, so I know I shouldn't get too worked up.

I also feel a bit ambivalent about posting my own good news, given that I'm sure there are bound to be other cancer patients reading this eventually, and not all cancer patients will have reason to be so optimistic. For my own sense of fairness, I'll try to balance any good news I might get with suggestions I have for people on the flipside of any particular issue. With respect to scanxiety, I think, as I said before, that it's critical to rely on the regular information you get about your health, as well as your general physical well-being. In other words, if your bloodwork hasn't been so good, and/or you're just not feeling great still, try to tamp down your expectations of what the scans might tell you. Maybe it is cliche, but it's more difficult to get disappointed or frustrated if you have more limited expectations to begin with. AND THEN, always stay positive! It's just a proven fact that psychological well-being has a direct effect on your overall physiology: positive people simply heal faster. And also try to remember that you might actually feel worse while you are getting better. Chemotherapy, contrary to what the name implies, isn't very therapeutic... it's poison. But it does its job and while it is, you're gonna feel like crap. Especially if your regimen is anything like mine, which in case your curious, is:

DA-EPOCH Regimen
The Dose-Adjusted Etoposide-Prednisone-Vincristine-Cyclophosphamide-Doxorubicin (with other names, abbreviated EPOCH) is probably one of the major breakthroughs in chemotherapy development, especially for the treatment of lymphomas. Unlike the old CHOP regimen, which had about a 50/50 chance of working, my regimen started me at a baseline dose during cycle one and then increases the concentration of the three main anti-cancer drugs by 20% for each cycle. As long as I respond well, my final dose will be 2.2 times the original dose given during cycle 1. If you have lymphoma and are being treated with DA-EPOCH, you can relax a bit. It's almost certainly going to work. What remains unclear, however, is whether or not the cancer comes back. As with all things, staying positive (though simplistic), is just the best possible therapy for a cancer patient, and I'm doing my best to take a bit of my own advice.

By the way, if you've read my blog and have any comments/questions, please please please send them to me. You can either reply to a particular post, or shoot me an e-mail. I would just love to hear from you.

Luxurious Sweet Tea: Summer in a Glass

So I love sweet tea, and I particularly enjoy McDonald's sweet tea (about the only thing I like from there). But as with almost any foodstuff, replicating it at home can be more trouble than its worth. Coincidentally, I stumbled upon a curious recipe on the NPR website, which I made, and then altered (which I almost always inevitably do), but hot-dog-diggity, the stuff ended up tasting darned-near close to the Mickey D's version. "Recipe?" you're thinking... I know. Sweet tea is hardly a recipe, but the kicker here is a bit of baking soda, which calms the tannins in the tea and gives it a wonderfully smooth mouth-feel, dare I say luxurious. Sweet tea is like mozzarella cheese, its more of a method than a recipe, but find the right one and it is, as Guy Fieri would say, "money!" Here's what I did:

How's this for a Hootenanny? Appointment Days, Life, and the Problems of Pain and Prednisone

Well, my blog is actually starting to get a little bit of meat on its bones now (and a bit of traffic... thank you readers!), and I realized that I have yet to post anything experientially-related to me; in other words, I haven't really shared any thoughts or updates about my feelings or general well-being. And not that I would presume to think people are biting their nails waiting for this, I probably should... at least insofar as blogging can serve as a form of therapy for managing stress and emotions. The occasional uber-personal post (and not just "advice") might serve to make me a better, well-adjusted blogger. And again, if you are reading this, thank you so very, very much. This is quickly turning into a pet project of mine, and it has been wonderful and thrilling to enter the world of blogging. I don't think I'll ever turn back. That said, this is a "hootenanny-post," probably the first of many, many more, wherein I make up for lost time and throw together a hodge-podge of topical highlights. And to some extent this reflects the general course of my life and the life of a cancer patient, at least this week anyhow.

Appointment Days
If you have cancer and haven't had one of these yet, get ready for it. It's like an Aristotelian confluence of events, wherein ALL of your regular follow-up appointments happen to occur on the same day... I call it a medical marathon. :) It pooped me out, big time. But luckily, all was clear. At the moment, however, we are dealing with a bit of diagnostic uncertainty related to my gastrointestinal well-being, and it's messing with my head. To explain, I have metastatic lymphoma, with the main metastasis being located in my colon; the side effects of this have my doctors uncertain about whether I might actually have ulcerative colitis. I have many, if not all, of the symptoms, but the question that remains is whether there is an underlying gastrointestinal pathology, or are the inflammatory symptoms simply a response to the colon-based tumor I have? Frankly, I'm praying that I DO NOT have UC; the long term outlook is simply better if my symptoms are more cancer-related. I'm sure I'll be blogging more about this near the end of the summer when my primary care responsibilities switch more to my GI.

But other than that, it was somewhat smooth sailing. My cell counts were good and my LDH was normal. If you have been diagnosed with cancer, you'll need to keep an eye on your LDH: the lactate dehydrogenase assay tests for cell damage, essentially, wherein a high LDH means more cell damage, ergo more cancer. Normal LDH means the cancer is going away. Within reason and with a humble attitude, I'd suggest learning about the essentials of your care so that you can be more informed about your health and know what questions to ask your doctors when you visit them. For me, for this week, it was my GI, oncologist, and dressing change for my PICC line, after which I had a little bit of...

Life
Hey, it happens. And it's most definitely better than the alternative. Although treatment is becoming a more integral and demanding part of my life with each passing day, I have decided that I'm also not going to let cancer barricade me in my house while the world goes on around me. As I get deeper into treatment, I am fast realizing that I do need to be selective about what gets me out of the house, when, and for how long. This week it was graduation at the university where I teach, and although I left a bit early, I needed and wanted to be there. More generally, however, I'm beginning to think that I will want to cluster the events and work responsibilities I engage in around the week following each treatment, when I'm on prednisone. Prednisone can be a fussy drug to manage, especially where the general hyper-ness is concerned, but notwithstanding it does give you the energy and mentality to feel and act somewhat normal. As I get closer to another treatment and take less to no prednisone, I feel increasingly more intense amounts of...

Pain
Cancer pain is so strange. It will happen for no apparent reason, and the sensations it produces are just... well, strange. At times it feels like having a cold, but without the cold; it's a general achiness without fever or other common symptoms. And then there are times, like the past day or two, when it borders on unbearable. I never go anywhere (even in my house) without my pain medication, because intense pain can hit me without any warning. I have somewhat mixed feelings about my pain meds, though, considering my history. But if I've made any substantial psychological progress since my days as an addict, I've come to the realization that those days are behind me, and, right here, right now, I have the right to not be in pain. If you have cancer, you have the right, too. If you get a new pain medication and it's not working, call your doctor. Don't be a hero, it won't help you get better.

Lasagna Bolognese: A Labor of Love

I took a stab at making lasagna bolognese the other night, which is the laborious product of two already laborious recipes: lasagna and bolognese sauce. A quick note about recipes here, in general: I almost never follow recipes! I research the general item I'm attempting to make and take bits from here and a method from there, and pretty soon I end up with a de facto original recipe. I will, however, give credit where it is due if I post someone else's recipe. That said, here is my recipe for this somewhat ridiculously indulgent meal, Lasagna Bolognese:

Impromptu Inspiration: My Super Breakfast

Proper nutrition is important for everyone, but it is absolutely essential for cancer patients. Malignant tumors drain your body of essential nutrients, so it is really important that, if you do have cancer, you are supplying your body with ample nutrition. Multivitamins are okay, but ask any doctor worth her own weight and she'll tell you that the best way to get vitamins and minerals is from food. I found this cereal the other day called Product 19, by Kellogg's, and it is essentially corn flakes on steroids. It is loaded with 100% of essential B vitamins and other nutrients, and eaten with banana slices, it is the perfect way to start your day right. It is low in fiber, which is good if you're on a low-residue diet (more on that later), but if you're inclined to up the fiber content a bit, some fresh blueberries or even almonds would work well.

Cancer Awareness: Know Your Color

You Have Cancer: Now What? (Practical and Emotional Tips)

I suppose the natural next post would be to put some tips/advice for actually being the patient. This is, by no means, medical advice; rather, these are just some helpful things I've learned to do as I've managed my own diagnosis and treatment (more or less in order of importance).

1. Rely on your doctor as the primary source of information about your type of cancer and your prognosis (a.k.a. STAY AWAY FROM THE INTERNET!!!). There are times for a bit of self-education, and there are times when you should simply should shy away from search engines (no disrespect to Google). The days/weeks after your diagnosis are definitely one of those times. I made the mistake of browsing the Internet one too many times and almost stirred myself into a nervous breakdown. REMEMBER THAT STATISTICS ARE NOTHING MORE THAN AVERAGES! (And that's coming from a statistician). Your doctor is the best source of information about the likely outcome of your treatment. No two cancer patients are alike, even if they have the same cancer, so save yourself some tears and call your doctor if you have any questions.
2. Use the Internet for supportive resources, however. Searching for a particular cancer will yield mostly medical sites, most of which are pretty clinical and dry, and not often that sensitive with statistics, survival rates, etc. YET, using the web to access support groups or patient-run sites can be very, very helpful and uplifting. Some of these sites are listed to the left under "Helpful Links" and supportgroups.com is a very typical example. I'd also recommend looking for a support group that is social media-based, as in on Facebook or Twitter. These groups tend to post very positive and uplifting information very frequently, and maintaining a positive mindset can be very beneficial to your health.
3. Keep a calendar and make To-Do lists. This is really not an option: your life is about to be dominated by doctors' appointments, follow-ups, infusions, and hospitalizations. The only way to manage this is to keep a calendar. If your a smartphone junkie (like I am), use your phone. I just use the standard Calendar app on my Android phone with a widget on my home screen that tells me when my upcoming appointments are. If your not a phone person, get a small, portable calendar booklet with at least weekly divisions to give yourself plenty of space. I also recommend keeping To-Do lists on a small, portable notebook (I use a small size yellow tablet from Staples). Actually writing things down helps you to remember them, and crossing things off of the list with an honest-to-goodness pen is very therapeutic.
4. Get a big ol' pillbox... you're gonna need it. First, ask your doctor for an info sheet on your treatment regimen if you don't have one. Then, go to the pharmacy and get the biggest pillbox they have, because you're likely to be on about 5 to 10 different meds for quite some time. Dose them out as prescribed for the week ahead and save yourself the stress of trying to remember if you took a particular med or not. Equally important: keep your must-take meds separate from your as-needed meds. 
5. Buy a pill fob for your keychain and keep a few "as-needed" meds in it. Click here for a link to the one I use. I keep a few pain pills and Zofran (the anti-nausea medication) in this. You never know when you're going to get a sudden burst of pain or nausea, so having these handy is a huge relief whenever I'm out of my house.
6. Buy a thermometer. If you EVER run a fever while on chemo, you need to call your doctor RIGHT AWAY! There are times when you may feel feverish, yet actually be fine, so save yourself the worry and just buy a decent thermometer and check your temp at least twice a day. If you are worried about the price, ask your doctor to write a prescription for one, as your insurance will likely cover some of the cost.

Simple Rules for Being a Friend to a Cancer Patient

Put one post in front of the other, and soon you'll be rolling out a blog.

So I was thinking about what an appropriate second post would be, and it occurred to me that no matter how hard cancer can be on the patient, it can be just as difficult for the patient's family and friends. It's awkward... you want to be caring, without fawning. You want to be sensitive, without being patronizing. So I figured a good place to begin this dialogue would be to offer a few simple rules to help everyone involved in a cancer patient's life navigate this tricky relationship.

1) When saying hi, don't use prolonged vowels. I was out one day at the store and a friend rushed over to me and, like the second coming, said, "Hoooooooow aaaaaaaare youuuuuuu?" It was that kind of "hello" that by its very tone and length implies something is wrong. Of course I know this person meant this only with the best intentions, but I was actually having a great day and feeling quite good, and in that moment I felt sick again. Moreover, the way she said it brought attention to me from people standing nearby, which was a bit embarrassing. There is nothing normal about having cancer, so something as mundane as a simple "how ya' doin" can bring some measure of order and peace into an otherwise chaotic journey.

2) Don't bring up "the cancer," unless the patient brings it up. It's kind of an unspoken understanding that you know that I know that you know that everyone knows, etc... And if you don't know, then the patient should be the one to tell you. When you have the big C, it can be all-consuming, but there is a limit to when and where (and why) a cancer patient may want to talk about it. If he or she doesn't mention it, don't bring it up. But that brings me to rule 3.

3) Indulge the patient if you visit him or her in the hospital. This is a touchy subject, but twice so far while receiving treatment, I have been visited by friends who spent an hour or two with me talking about nothing but their own problems. There IS a life beyond cancer, so I tried to be a nice friend and didn't say anything; however, it's probably best that you not vent about your issues to someone who is getting copious amounts of cytotoxins pumped into their veins. When you are receiving chemotherapy, your entire day is nearly planned to the minute, and you have very little control over your life. So being able to talk about the chemotherapy and any progress or updates to a friend feels a bit like taking control over your regimen. Outside of the hospital, keep conversation normal, but in the hospital, let the patient do the talking.

4) When visiting a chemo patient in the hospital, food and magazines are always welcome. I could probably start a florist/card store with all the flowers and cards I've gotten while in the hospital. AND I LOVE THEM! BUT, keep in mind that hospital food is often incredibly difficult to stomach and entertainment is, well... lacking. Your friend's dietary restrictions/appetite in mind, a very welcome gift would be a decent meal, and magazines are like gold, as they allow for hours of mindless abandonment. Very cheap and very simple, but VERY appreciated.

Beating the Odds: The Day My Life Began... Again

It seems like a contradiction in terms to say that the day my life began (again) was the fateful day a few months ago when my oncologist walked into the room and uttered the words, "You have a very aggressive cancer." But I suppose this is fast-forwarding the story that, humbly, is my life. And I further suppose that any proper blog should feature at least a modest introduction to the blogger. I'll try to be unassuming, but whether read or not-read, this entry is probably more self-therapy than useful knowledge. I feel a bit like my life has been an exercise in beating the odds, since as a social statistician, I'm more aware than I'd like to be of how I should not be alive or successful today.

On the surface I'm your typical white male, but therein the privilege ends. In the interest of moderated disclosure, I'll just say that men have never played a prominent role in my family life. I was raised by my two moms--sisters, in fact--who made the fruitful decision each to raise their children together in one household. So, we have my two moms, my sister (genetically my cousin, but as a sociologist I know that sibling relationships are more about interaction than blood), and my grandmother... and me, the lone male. And that's my family, the best family a guy could ask for; it's a hootenanny--highly informal, entirely unconventional, and very feminine. But it made me the man I am today and I wouldn't trade it for anything. And for that matter, it is one of the reasons that I find the United States' lack of a coherent family policy so appalling. Beating the odds, part one.

As for the details? Well, let's just say that despite more recent progressive trends, being gay in America has not been easy. Beating the odds, part two? Maybe. But that's only after I spent the better part of my early twenties embroiled in drug addiction, the end result being failing out of school and barely getting by in the retail industry. It's hard to say what makes people break, but I have... twice. Perhaps the only constant in my life has been my family. In fact, it was at their suggestion some five years ago, that (more out of desperation than sudden enlightenment) I decided to go back to school. Thank God. That first night of classes completely reversed the trajectory of my past decisions. I went on to earn a B.S. in Sociology, magna cum laude, and most recently an M.A. in Applied Sociology, also magna cum laude. I am now earning my doctorate in Policy Evaluation and Quantitative Methodology (read NERD), and teach college statistics and research methods at my alma mater (how cool is that?) But I had a lot of help from my family: they've always been there for me, and that's why I spend every day of my life hoping that I can be there for them.

Lest this sound self-aggrandizing, this is the part of the blog where I hope that my apparent self-indulgence will instead serve as inspiration to the unlikely visitor who may be going through a series of unfortunate events. If you are young, gay, Black, Hispanic, female, etc..., life is hard, but with a little bit of determination and a LOT of love from the right people, anything is possible. PLEASE know this. Don't ever apologize for who you are, only for what you've done. And after that, do better.

Fast-forward to today. I don't know if you can anthropomorphize a year, but regardless, I have had to tell 2013 to calm down more than once lately. After getting my Master's in December, I spent the entire month of January and most of February convincing myself that I had recurrent flu. Like so many people, I put off going to the doctor until the Nth hour. A few scans, exploratory surgery, and a negative biopsy later, and it was determined that I had ulcerative colitis. Thank god for the learned suspicion of a few incredibly talented doctors who referenced my tests only to find out that I have a very aggressive form of lymphoma that had metastasized to my colon (stage 4). Prior to 6 weeks ago, I would've had approximately 3 months to live, but thanks to the best oncologist, nurses, and family in the world, I'm beating the odds, part three. My prognosis is for a full cure, but when you've confronted death, you approach everything anew, with the curiosity and elation of a child's mind. My best friend of 20 years also committed suicide, which will needless-to-say, play a strong part in shaping the nature of my advocacy for the future. For the two "bummers" I've endured this year, I also got in to my number one PhD program, and got work on a National Science Foundation grant. I have a LOT to be thankful for, and I feel in no small way that I have a solemn obligation to pay it forward. Hence, this blog.

As for said-blog, cancer will likely feature prominently for some time, but I'm also a consummate foodie, and activist scholar. I'll try to feature meal ideas and recipes that I have found to be conducive to the life of a working family-person, and will occasionally ask that you indulge me in a bit of nerd-talk or academic discourse. Other than that, I can't wait to see where this goes! And thanks for reading!