Con limón y sal

Yesterday I had my post-transplant PET scan – and to save you the suspense…it’s clean…no sign of cancer. This is good, very very good…it means that the transplant has worked thus far, and I am cancer-free. I’ll have another set of scans in October, and then every six months after that for the next several years. I am not yet out of the woods – the first year is the sketchiest, and the fear and anxiety of a relapse will lay heavy on my shoulders for some time - but this victory is huge, and I will celebrate accordingly. Mmm hmm. Ayer me hicieron los estudios pos-trasplante – y para ahorrarles el suspenso…todo salió completamente limpio…no hay rasgos de cáncer. Esto es excelente – significa que el trasplante ha funcionado hasta ahora, y que estoy libre de cáncer. Me harán estudios de nuevo en octubre, y de ahí en adelante cada seis meses por los siguientes varios años. Aunque no quisiera, esta noticia todavía no significa el fin de esto – el primer año es el más difícil, y el miedo y an...

I went to my first class last night, and out of a 'getting to know you' writing activity the following poem was born. I kinda liked it...it may not be good, I'm not really a poet, but it is what it is and I suppose I too am what I am. Fui a mi primer clase de la maestría ayer, y de una actividad de 'conociéndonos' nació el siguiente poema. Me gustó un poco...puede ser que no sea bueno, ya que bien sé que no soy poeta, pero es lo que es, y supongo que yo tambien soy lo que soy. Empecé a hacer una traducción, pero se pierde demasiado...perdónenme esta vez pero a veces hay cosas que no se vale traducirlas porque pierden su esencia...y su rima también. I am from Troutdale, from me. I am from smelt runs and blackberry jam and pie; I am from a sea of women who taught me to live right. I am from braces and glasses and too many fat girl jokes; I am from rebirth and renewal and contact lenses and diet coke. I am from Mexico, at least most recently, from t...

I have spent the last two months wearing either pajamas, jeans and t-shirts, or any other comfort wear with little concern for looking presentable, so when I went out to lunch today with my mom I decided to step it up a notch and put on a cute little black dress and my favorite black heels – I even made an effort to carefully brush mascara onto my seven or eight eyelashes and powder my nose. The dress, my favorite hand-me-down from my grandmother, falls just at the knee when I’m standing, and shrinks up to mid thigh while I’m seated, and on the way home I was lazily driving one-handed, resting the other on my knee, when I noticed that if I ran my hand up my leg I could feel the slightest hint of stubble growing. At a stoplight I quickly checked under both arms – stubble. What a thrill…I remembered that the last time I shaved was in April just before my second round of ICE. So, I decided to get some coffee, and when I parked the car at the coffee shop, I carefully examined my face in th...

This ad featuring me and my old super great hair will be coming out in this Sunday's Oregonian, so be sure to buy one, or steal your neighbor's, clip out my ad, and save it for all time. The text reads: "One year after my first diagnosis of stage four Hodgkin’s lymphoma, I was feeling good. I was just getting my hair back, and then I got sick again. When you have cancer, everything is overwhelming. Providence Cancer Center surrounds you with people who help you through it. My patient advocate helped me get financial assistance through Providence. My doctors created a state-of-the-art treatment plan, and my oncologist worked with fertility specialists to make sure children would still be an option for me in the future. I’m a realist. I know that the rest of my treatment won’t be easy, but I want to make it through this, and I don’t want to forget who I was before. I was an English teacher. I am a wife. Someday, I want to be a mom. Right now, I’m a patient at Providence Canc...