The Path to Normalcy

Hello again,

It's been an incredibly hectic few months. Which leads me to something I feel is important to discuss that I'm sure isn't all too foreign, at least on some level, to many:

I tend to get overwhelmed somewhat easily, especially with the more mundane aspects of life—work, school, bills, insurance, socializing, what have you—and especially when they're all happening simultaneously. For years, I felt ill-equipped, like a failure, for not being able to deal with the realities of independent living. This was a near-constant thought I repeated like the world's worst mantra.

Yet, when it comes to traumatic events in my life—surgery, car accidents, cancer scares, joint collapses, etc.—I cope far better than most. After ten years of dealing with grim prognoses and continual setbacks, what most people would consider horrific experiences are my normal. The reason? I was diagnosed with  leukemia a little over ten years ago, just as I was about to graduate high school, and so instead of learning and adjusting with my peers to adulthood, I struggled just to stay alive and, once I'd come out the other side, to recover. The natural path of leaving the nest and learning to navigate the real world wasn't mine to walk. Instead, I found myself on a more winding path to a reasonably normal life, slowly picking up the skills necessary to do so.

While I added to my repertoire of life skills, I contended with numerous surgeries and other setbacks that served as an ever-growing ball and chain that slowed my progress to a crawl. And the depression and anxiety and PTSD from my battle with cancer and the cure were as broken glass along that path, pain and suffering that reinforced the belief it was far easier to stay put than continue on to endure further cuts, slowly bleeding my resolve. Each additional mundanity increased the incline of the path—growing ever steeper, ever more daunting.

The combination of these factors is sometimes enough for me to shed some of my less urgent tasks to pour my effort into those that are necessary—to ease the angle of the path and thus the energy required for forward progression. Over the last couple years I've become better at juggling multiple responsibilities, but it has not been easy, and I've had to do it almost entirely on my own.

I know I'm not alone in this predicament. Many young adult cancer survivors have similar issues, as do people with depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses. That's why it's so important to find ways of tailoring support to those who struggle, because as it sits today, the resources can be improved. It begins with our attitude toward how we offer support and what we think adequate to get these people back on their feet. Unfortunately, the problem doesn't just go away when someone is "cured," there are lingering after-effects that can be just as damaging and difficult to overcome as the original diagnosis.

The issue is a pervasive one, and only when we work to find the best treatments not just for those currently suffering their maladies, but for those recovering as well, can we ease their path back to normalcy.

~Andrew

The Right Angle (Recovery Part 3)

Hey blog,

Wasn't all that Top Ten Zen stuff pretty cool? It was a lot of work but I definitely would agree that it was very much worth it to be able to reach out to so many people and offer insight and guidance. It was also pretty cool to be able to look at each quote from a different angle by having Nick co-author those posts with me. Maybe we'll do something like that again in the future, I wouldn't mind another collaborative project with the ultrarunning Zen master.

Step 4 in happy dance shows off my range of motion

I do apologize though, because although I did assist in dropping Zen knowledge upon thy head, I haven't given an update into my recovery in over three weeks now and should probably remedy that. As you may remember from part 2 of the recovery posts, my doctor was pleasantly surprised at the progress I'd made in the range of motion of my shoulder, which had already surpassed his one-year prediction in less than a month. Now I am in my eighth week of recovery (haven't seen the doctor yet, that's next week) and have moved from being in a sling to being out of a sling with active assistance (being able to move my arm with assistance from my left hand) to finally being allowed unrestricted movement! (Insert happy dance here.) I've been out of the sling for two weeks now and it feels good to have a semi-normal shoulder again. In some respects, it's better than my left one (which also has damage and will require surgery soonish), although still a bit sore. After all, I've been using it more and more and as such will run into a bit more pain for a while before it calms down. However, the range of motion is quite a deal higher than it was before the surgery, and indeed better than it has been in several years. The forward flexion (holding my arm straight ahead and raising it up) is all the way up to a whopping 125 degrees! The abduction (holding my arm straight out to the side and raising it up) is up to 110 degrees! Now, I should note that both of these numbers are a product of active assist and not unrestricted movement, but it is reassuring to know that I have the potential to reach these numbers as I continue to build up strength without the help of my "better" arm.

The rest of my happy dance, as reenacted by bear cubs

I'm sure I'll have some more updates available after I see my doctor in a couple weeks, although I might have something sooner because I just started back up with outpatient physical therapy. I had an initial assessment a couple days ago and so far so good. The biggest issue at the moment seems to be the pain, but that's just pain, not anything major problem, so I can handle that.

Summer's coming to a close. It's felt long and short, with lots of ups and downs to accompany it. Overall things went well: I fixed my right shoulder, both my brothers were around for a while (Chad left yesterday), I didn't get much writing done but am starting back up, I completed a ten-part blog series and kept to the timeline the entire time, and I managed to write a short story. All in all, I think I'm pleased with how it all went. Now I need to prepare for school and make sure I stick to a productive output for my book as I march slowly toward the next, and hopefully last (for a while anyways), surgery on my left shoulder. That one will round out the set: eight major joints replaced. With any luck, I won't have to worry too much about major surgeries until the first replacements begin to wear off in a few years. By then, I hope to establish some kind of normalcy in my life. Then again...what is normal anyway?

Comet 67P from 177 miles away

Before I get into the rest of my personal update (and a very touching part of this post for me), I wanted to share a very cool piece of news. For those of you who know me, you know I like space. It honestly confounds me that not everyone is totally enamored with it, but that's just how it is. However...I would like to quickly share a HUGE accomplishment that took place earlier this week that deserves mention. If you don't already know about the Rosetta mission, then here is a quick summary. Ten years ago Rosetta was launched to rendezvous with a comet named 67P (for short, the full name is a bit wordy) and enter into orbit around this 2.5 mile wide body careening through space. No other craft has ever accomplished this feat before. As of yesterday, August 6th 2014, and after a nearly four BILLION mile journey, Rosetta successfully entered into orbit around comet 67P and has made history!! But merely entering into orbit wasn't enough, because in November of this year, Rosetta will drop down the Philae lander, which will be the first craft to ever land on a comet. The pictures will be...well, I'm excited, let's put it that way. It's a monumental accomplishment and I am very much looking forward to seeing what kind of discoveries about comets and about our early solar system drop out of this truly special mission.

Relay for Life Luminaria

Back to the update. Now that Top Ten Zen is finished, I can get back to my writing. I had to put it on a temporary hiatus while Nick and I wrote our ten-part series as well as editing and formatting for our posts too. But it is done and the writing can recommence. I've not done as much as I wanted (although so far today, after meeting with Nick, I have managed over 4000 words), but it is always difficult to reinsert myself into the frame of mind of writing my memoir, because of the painful and difficult nature of writing non-fiction about yourself. Plus, I never really fully got back into writing Life Has No Title (my memoir) after the surgery. I had only done about 5,000 words when Nick and I began the Top Ten Zen project. For me, I've always found getting back into writing non-fiction a lot harder to start back up than fiction, which I adore and can pick up at almost any time with relative ease. It doesn't help that there are a lot of memory gaps in the long road of my treatments that I need to fill in by reading over old CaringBridge posts. Re-reading those is like taking a punch to the face with every paragraph. Nothing about this book is easy for me, but the potential benefits of raising awareness for post-cancer treatment and the state of mind of a cancer survivor (click on my About Me: Cancer and the Cure page to learn more) coupled with the (hopefully) cathartic nature of jotting all this down make this project essential for me to complete. In essence, I've given all of the shit I went through a purpose by writing this book and sharing my story. Whether it manages to shift people's perceptions of life after cancer and change policy and treatment methods and touch hundreds, thousands, or millions of people...or if all it does is help one person get through their cancer treatment, I know that I've done something good. Even if it's just one person it saves or makes their treatment just that little bit easier, I'll know that I did something good and worthwhile.

Your definitely not normal creator,
Andrew