Ex Cancer, Scientia

Ex luna, scientia. 

From the moon, knowledge.

This was the motto of Apollo 13, a mission on which NASA intended to complete a lunar landing, conduct experiments, and gain knowledge of the planet. Only the crew never made it to their intended destination. They were thrown wildly off course when an oxygen tank exploded and disabled part of the life support system.

Instead of being famous for landing on the moon, astronaut Jim Lovell would be famous for uttering the words, "Houston, we have a problem," which was a bit of an understatement in hindsight. On the morning of my first seizure that led to the discovery of my tumor, I texted a friend later that morning while still in the ER and wrote something to the effect, "Well, I've had a bit of an eventful morning..." We laughed about it later because she told me only I would utter such a statement relative to the circumstances. It was my own way of saying 'Houston, we have a problem.'

Because I definitely had a problem on my hands. God went and stirred my O₂ tanks, so to speak, which led to things blowing up, and the trajectory of my life forever altered. I wasn't entirely sure at the time how I was going to make it back to Planet Earth, back to safe, familiar ground. And not just make it back, but make it back using the best trajectory for re-entry that didn't leave me incinerated in a blaze of fire and ash. Two surgeries, a round of radiation, more seizures than I cared to experience, a lot of rehab appointments, and six of twelve cycles of chemotherapy later, we might just be getting somewhere that doesn't involve a constant sense of waiting for things to blow up.

After the brain biopsy in February of last year and the confirmation of the diagnosis, there was a lull between that and the craniotomy in mid-April. In that space, I reached out to Michelle, co-owner of the gym, and asked if we could see about putting some workouts together while I was out of commission and wouldn't formally be in the gym anymore, but with all these caveats of what exercises were off-limits because of the weakness and motor control issues I had, even before the craniotomy. 

I asked her if she had ever seen the movie Apollo 13, particularly the one scene where some of the guys from Mission Control dump a pile of parts on the table and then tell the rest of the team they have to assemble a makeshift carbon dioxide filter using only items taken from the pile of parts. She was familiar with the scene, and I said, "That's what this feels like. 'Here's all the working parts Courtney has, guys. Let's figure out how to get her home, using only this, this, and this.'"

I went to the gym today for a formal baseline assessment session with Michelle, the first since the seizure one year ago. As a joke, I bought us both stickers of the official insignia of the Apollo 13 mission. I now regularly use the phrase "Let's Apollo 13 this thing," in a variety of life circumstances, meaning let's figure out how to rig this thing - whether this 'thing' is my life or whatever else the phrase may be applied to - together with the limited resources we have. 

I wanted - and still do - anybody and everybody who knew anything about cancer and health at the table, housed in my Mission Control. I can't make it back home alive based on my own knowledge, no more than Jim Lovell could have gotten himself, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert back to Planet Earth alive based on his own knowledge. He needed every ounce of knowledge housed in Mission Control to figure out the math and science necessary to keep them on a path headed home, and preferably with a pulse.

Neuro-oncologist? Pull out every degree and every shred of knowledge you have ever encountered in your years of medical training. Go.

Neurosurgeon? Review every surgery you've ever done like this before and study it backwards and forwards. You better know the brain like the back of your hand. Go.

Occupational therapist? Find the exercises necessary to address neurological issues on the left side of the body. Go.

Radiation oncologist? Show me exactly where and how this radiation is about to go down. Explain it to me in layman's terms. Go.

Nutritionist? Tell me what is going to optimize my existence and not leave me wasting away to nothing. Go.

Physical therapist? Start talking. Go.

Acupuncturist? Break open those needles. Go.

Speech therapist? Pull a seat up to the table. Go.

If I thought someone possessed knowledge I didn’t have and if it was knowledge I thought was going to keep me alive, I wanted them in Mission Control. 

Ex cancer, scientia. 

From cancer, knowledge.

But I also was gaining my own knowledge that would never be found in a textbook, nor in anyone else's medical degree, skillset, story, or memoir.  It was knowledge I could gain only through the process itself, through everything falling apart and things being shoved wildly off course. This entire blog from the last year could serve as Exhibit A, the things I've been learning from and because of cancer. Knowledge unique to me and me alone.

It has been very expensive knowledge to gain. And there was no way I could have studied for it, just like none of the NASA guys had ever had to figure out a way to make things fit together that were never designed to fit together in the first place in order to keep the crew from dying of asphyxiation. But they did. They Apollo 13'ed the thing.

Jim Lovell may not have made it to the moon on that 'failed' mission, but he did come back to Planet Earth alive and, I imagine, with knowledge. It wasn't knowledge of the moon, as there would never be a lunar landing for Jim in his lifetime. But I have no doubt he came back to Planet Earth with a different understanding of the world he once knew - perhaps a better, richer, fuller understanding. 

I don't know what my equivalent of the 'moon' is, but I can't help but wonder if the knowledge I gained by not landing there is infinitely more valuable than the knowledge I would have gained if I had.

From sorrow, knowledge.

From joy, knowledge.

From peace, knowledge.

From disability, knowledge.

From grief, knowledge.

From adversity, knowledge.

From depression, knowledge.

From anxiety, knowledge.

From hope, knowledge.

When our lives are thrown off course and leave us in places we never expected, are we willing to be trained by that experience, to gain wisdom and knowledge from it? Or will we allow bitterness and resentment to settle in, defiantly refusing to have our sharp edges smoothed, because things didn't go like we planned?

Ex luna, scientia.

Ex cancer, scientia.

_______________

Health Updates

Ya know, there's nothing quite like reading fresh FMLA paperwork that your doctor just filled out, and in the space where it says to "provide your best estimate of how long the condition lasted or will last," they simply write "life long non curable." Womp, womp, womp. To see it written like that wasn't any sort of fresh punch in the gut. It's just reality. Kinda like, "Well, isn't that a bummer."

In other far more exciting news, I got my first legit haircut since last February that a) was by choice, and b) did not involve me shaving it! All of the hair I lost due to radiation (the left photo, which was kind of the worst point of the hair situation) has grown back in (the right photo), although the length still doesn't quite match the other side where I didn't lose any, but we're slowly getting there. I actually don't think I'll go back to my old hair style. I rather like this shorter cut. I just need more hair to keep my head warm. I still wear a beanie almost 24/7.

I was supposed to start chemo cycle #6 last week, but my platelets dipped again last blood draw, not as low as cycle #4, but enough that we needed to delay so that they could rebound some before moving forward. They rebounded enough by this past Monday that I started the pills this past Tuesday night. 

Once this cycle is done, I'll be at the halfway mark. I have my next MRI scheduled for the end of this month, as well as a six-month follow up with the radiation oncologist. I will also have a six-month follow up with the seizure specialist at the beginning of March. So, generally, a handful of benchmark/follow up appointments coming up.

_______________
Comments
PS: Want to leave a comment? If you select "Anonymous," would you mind including at least your first name and last initial, or some such combination, directly in the body of your comment? That way I know who you are!

_______________
Email Notifications
PPS: If you regularly read but want the convenient way to get notifications of when I post, the sign up link for email notifications is still available! Sign up via this link.