Day ???? of Life

Thursday, January 12th, 2017

Hey, strangers!

Haha, kind of a joke but also kind of not because I don’t think I know everyone who reads these. Which is dope.

Anyhow, sorry for not updating y’all in one million years. (Actually since last year. Happy new year!) A lot has happened since we last spoke. My hair has grown a bit (I’ll enclose a picture if I remember how.) I have lost a bit of the steroid weight (thank goodness). I feel different. Every day that I face is different.

I guess I should start with the health portion of my situation. I am cancer free, and have been since I last informed you of such. I get two or three vaccinations per month, because I have to get aaaaaall the vaccines I have ever in my lifetime received again. My immune system is the canvas and the vaccine injections is the artist. 😉 I’m not sure if that was proper grammar. Yolo.

I’m still tired all the time, but now I am not sure if I’m tired because of the constant work at school or because I’m still recovering from chemo and radiation. Wow, we haven’t spoken in such a long time. I don’t even know what you guys know or don’t know.

I tried rereading some of my old posts. It feels like a century ago that I was that person, but it also feels like I still am that person. Does that make sense?

I’m in school full time again. That is a question a lot of people ask me. I had to take a really light class load, as the transition into being a full time student was way more difficult than I anticipated, but I’m a sophomore the same way I would have been if I hadn’t gotten cancer and had to leave early.

Coming back to school has been really, really difficult. I found a video that I made at the beginning of the semester that at the time I was going to post onto here but ended up not, (mostly because when I do any kind of public speaking my voice raises ten million octaves and I sound like a seven year old and with my new hair I genuinely look like one so ya know skipped on that) (haha good thing I’m going into acting, a profession that involves no public speaking!) I’m going to transcribe it to give you a bit of my October point of view. I haven’t watched this since I made it, so here’s to hoping I don’t sound terribly irritating. When I use parentheses it is my commentary on my video so we can enjoy it or hate it together:

ME: Heeey. Um, hey guys. (really glad I had to say um before saying basically the same exact thing. dope.) So, I haven’t posted a blog in a very long time. Mostly because I just didn’t want to sit down and write, and I wasn’t going to force myself to do something that felt bad.

But, I currently have a fever. Not a high fever, just a chill, chill fever. And I’m home for the night while everyone else is out so I thought I could take this opportunity to fill y’all in. Um, so yeah. I’ll begin. (clearly, you can see I am more of a writer than a speaker, as the constant “ums” and “buts” are unbearably annoying.)

I’m doing well. Uh, I’m doing really well. I’m really happy to be back at school. To be with my friends, to be with David. Um, I really am. I was cast in a play, which is super exciting. Uh, I have so much work. *awkward laugh*  I have so much work. (Twice for emphasis, ammiright?) Every time I stress out or freak out, I think to myself, at least I’m here. I’m here. (Cool, saying it twice again.) Because, I wasn’t last semester. Well, most of it. And that sucked. But, I’m here. So, it’s a good thing.

Um, and while I am super happy, and more moments than not I am happy, there are moments where I’m not. In the beginning of the school year, which began during like the very end of August, um, it was hard. Certain days I would be getting ready to go out with my friends to a party or something and I would, uh, put on a cute outfit and even put on some makeup which isn’t my favorite thing to do, but I would try anything to make myself feel beautiful again. It didn’t work. Yeah. And that’s hard. It’s really hard. And part of me, um, a part of me thought that hopping back into school would be like old me all over again. And not the case. But, I’m learning that there are definitely good things that come out of this experience. Weird things like walking the streets of New York City pre cancer, I would care a lot about what people thought. When people looked at me. Even if they just looked in my general direction, part of me would be like “oh boy, they’re looking at me.” And you would think now that I look like an infant boy, that I would think the same thing, but, um, now I kind of just don’t give a shit. In my mind, I’m kind of like “they don’t know me. I survived cancer. Fuck them.” (Wow. I was feelin’ aggressive. Yikes.) Which is weird, because that’s not how I expected to be feeling.

Um, something really strange for me, is when I’m in New York City-which is everyday, I don’t know why I said when I’m in New York City, I live here-when I’m in New York City which is all the time, when I see women with very short hair cuts, like so, *professional model pose to show my hair, work it girl* When I see people with haircuts like that, part of me, which- and I would never do this-but part of me wants to be like, “is that voluntary or is it a result of chemo?” And I can’t say that, and I’m sure more often than not it is a personal choice, especially in New York City where people are expressing themselves in a million zillion point seven ways. And it’s…there’s this one girl, who I see ALL the time, and not even in my dorm, just around the East Village and she has hair just like mine, and she’s stunning, super tall, fit, works it, I would think she’s a model. Maybe she is. I don’t know her. But, um, I want to be like, “I like your hair.” And I totally could, I don’t know why I don’t, I guess if someone said that to me, it would make me, it wouldn’t feel true to me, probably because if it was up to me, I would have hair down to my toes. Not actually. I would trip. All the time. But, it was a hyperbole.

Um, so yeah. My birthday was September 23rd. And that was a really hard day for me. It was very depressing. You would think that I might be celebrating life as I am fortunate enough to have it, but, it was just really hard. And I used to be the kind of girl that a month, two months, before my birthday I would be counting down, telling anyone who would listen about what I’m doing for my birthday, about how many days are left until my birthday, about what I hope I am getting for my birthday, um…I was obsessed. For lack of a better term. This year, I was dreading it. And I wanted it to be over as soon as it began. Um, soon after midnight struck, I genuinely crawled into my bed and cried. It was really hard. (I’m proud of myself for not making any “that’s what she said jokes this entire video. Go me.) And my friends, and my family, and David, everyone contributed to making it as great as it could be, but nothing really-it wasn’t anyones doing or fault, it was really just a depressing day. I didn’t like how I looked. I didn’t want to take pictures.

I’m getting better at that, though. Taking pictures. With each day, I’m feeling a bit better about how I look. I mean sometimes I go twenty steps back and I hate it all over again. And other days, I look at myself and I’m like, “so you don’t look like how you used to.” *shrug* I wish that happened more often, *awkward laugh* But, I’ll take it for the amount of times I’ve had it so far.

Uh, I make a lot of cancer jokes. And those who know me, um, they laugh and it’s fun. But, sometimes people that know me but like don’t KNOW me know me, are so uncomfortable. And part of me wants to be like, “I’m sorry,” but at the same time, it’s so funny. It’s so funny to me. That’s kind of selfish I guess, because no one else finds it nearly as funny as I do, but it’s my way of coping. And, uh, hopefully that’ll change, um, but right now that’s where I’m at.

Yeah, so things are looking up. They are. I don’t know the last time I blogged. I think it was even before I finished radiation. So, to clear up on the health part of things, which is probably where I should have began…(@present me, great job. You did that in this post. Killing it.) Um, so I finished radiation. Things were looking good, are looking good, they-things are good. (Omg I’m so awkward. Cringe.) And I went home, back in Roslyn, and it was nice. It was nice being home. And I really didn’t want to go home, because I didn’t want to run into people, I didn’t want to get the “pity look” and for people to ask me questions I didn’t want to answer. But I found that I really like talking about my experience. (Shocker, Casey. You blog about it.) Not always, it’s definitely-it depends on my mood. And that’s not really fair to people because they don’t know, and sometimes I don’t even know, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles, I guess. (#StopCaseyFromMakingVideoBlogs2017)

Uh, yeah. So, I was home in Roslyn. And I saw some friends which was really lovely. I got ready for school, and once I was at school, sorry Mom and Dadm but I was like “BYEEEEE. Fun five months with y’all but I’m ready!!!” And it’s good…I remember to take my medicine which I think my family was super worried about. I talk to Josh fairly often. Josh, my brother… which is really nice. Josh and I had a long talk in Roslyn together before we left for school, and I have nothing but optimism for him and my relationship.

My living condition here is so great. I’m so close to everything. My roommate Kristina is the booomb. And my suite mate, randomly, is one of my childhood friends who I used to do dance with, and it’s so random that we’re put in the same suite because we didn’t request each other but it’s wild and awesome, she’s so cool. I love having her here. I also have another suite mate, Amira, who we are all starting to get to know more. She’s a super senior, which means she had four years, and now she is on her last semester, and then she leaves. So gotta take this last semester to get to know her.

One of the things I’m really worried about right now is Halloween. Because, Halloween is notorious for women dressing up a bit *awkwardness* scandalously. Um, not that that means I have to. I wouldn’t do it because everyone is doing it, um, but you know what I mean. It’s whatever. But, I just don’t know. I don’t feel confident in how I look, um, and I know despite how much I love my friends and how beautiful I think they are, a part of me will be jealous that I can’t walk into a place wearing whatever I want feeling confident. Which is frustrating for me, because I don’t want to have negative feelings towards my friends because of jealousy. That sucks. That sucks. Um, so I’m really nervous for Halloween. And my birthday was a huge anxiety ball (what?) for me, so I’m happy that’s done. And once Halloween is done, that will be cool.

For my birthday, my parents got me tickets to Georgia, so I can spend Christmas with David’s family. Which is really exciting. I’m so excited. It’s gonna be really fun. I can’t wait to meet all his friends, and to hang out with his family, who I have met, if y’all remember in a previous post around his birthday. They’re awesome. They’re super cool. Yeah.

I’m trying to think about what I could fill y’all in on. Mostly, I do work. Which is not a bad thing. I love school. I love school so much. Uh, currently rereading for the millionth time Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekhov for those literature fans out there. *idiotic finger gun point* I’m doing a scene from Uncle Vanya where I play Sonya. And it’s really fun. Chekhov is a REALLY great playwright, which just doesn’t do it justice at ALL. He’s dope. Really dope. I recommend it.

I’m trying to get in some recreational reading, but the truth is I don’t have time, especially with the play I’m in, which I briefly mentioned. When I get the dates and the times, anyone that wants to see it should, please. An audience would be dope. (It passed. Cmon Casey. Terrible marketing skills.)

I’m also about to start reading a book about improv. I feel like I’m doing a commercial right now. *shows book* Improvisation, the TJ and Dave book. I’ll let y’all know how it is when I begin it. I have five chapters to read for homework. (It’s a cool book, for what it is worth.)

I’m also in an improv class, which is really interesting. I enjoy it.

I’m in a directing class, which is really cool. (It was, but I ended up dropping it because my energy level couldn’t take it. This makes me sad.)

I really love the classes I’m taking. I ended up dropping one of my classes because of the work load, um and I think that was a good decision for me. There are other semesters and summers…I’m trying not to beat myself up about it. Only human. But, yeah.

That is where I’m at.

I’m trying to think if there’s anything else…I don’t know.

Well, I hope everyone has a great evening.

END VIDEO

Wow. What a time to be alive. Helpful tip to future me, NEVER POST A VIDEO OF YOURSELF LIKE THAT. Yiiiiikes. So to catch y’all up on January Casey, here goes.

It’s winter break right now, I begin school again January 23rd. Which is also my dad’s birthday. I spent the first week of Christmas break in Georgia with David’s family, as mentioned in my video-to-be. It was SO. SO. SO. fun. One of my absolute favorite vacations to date. I met all of his friends!!! I met his best friend Micah who I had been waiting 29837492374 years to meet. She made the dopest 80’s style video montage of us trying clothes on in thrift stores. David was basically our third wheel. Just kidding. 🙂 (Or am I???) I also met his friend Max, who I absolutely adored. I didn’t want that evening to end. I wish I could go into every and all the details about all the people I met and all the things we did, but a) that would take a LOT of this blog up b) it may take away some of the magic of it all.

It was rad to be able to drive with David in his car, which we can’t do in NYC and see where he grew up. Passing his high school, where he would hang with friends, his old day care…I saw a part of David I had never seen before. It was wonderful.

Christmas with his family was ABSOLUTELY AMAZING. From the moment I walked into their home, I felt so welcome. David’s brother, Tim, CRACKS ME UP. He is the happiest person on planet earth, I think. Everything excites him. Which, in turn, excites me. Him, me and David made a gingerbread house together. It was soooooo fun. David’s step mom, Suzanne, is so dope. She is so generous and thoughtful, and is a fellow book lover. Chris, David’s dad, is very much like David in their constant way of making people laugh. I was calling him Christopher because I thought that was what he liked to be called, but now I am on the level of calling him “Chris.” So, I’m feelin’ cool. Debbie, David’s grandma, was an absolute joy. I had been wanting to meet her for so long (she was the only one who I hadn’t met previously) and I felt an instant bond with her. Opening presents with them was such an event, and so amazing. I’m getting chills just thinking about it. I really felt all their love for each other just by being able to watch them celebrate. It was such an honor to be there.

One of my favorite parts of the trip, (besides getting to see and hear embarrassing/cute lil stories about David’s childhood) was David’s surprise evening. He planned an entire night for the two of us and didn’t tell me anything about it. One of my favorite things in the world is not having to plan anything and just follow and go with the flow. He got us tickets to the Atlanta Botanical Garden, which was, at the time, holiday lights themed. I cannot describe how wonderful and stunning the botanical garden was. It was such a blast-my best friend and I running around, exploring the botanical garden with all the holiday music and scenery. We made smores!!!! (MY FAVORITE.) We even kissed under the mistletoe! (Sorry mom and dad.)

After Georgia, I have been spending my break in Long Island. David joined me in attending a New Years Eve party in Roslyn with the fucks and some other friends, some of which I hadn’t seen since pre-cancer. I was really nervous but it was definitely helpful to have David by my side. I hated looking the way I looked and seeing all my high school friends. I felt insecure and nervous. But, everyone was so kind and normal. I felt at ease within the first hour. It ended up being an incredibly enjoyable night. 2017 is most definitely my year.

David and I have been dating for, as of yesterday, ten months! Woohoo! Which also makes today 10 months since D-Day. (Diagnosis day.) March 12th.

This year, on March 12th, I will NOT be in the emergency room with an IV inside of my vein. Nor will I be learning the definition of vitals.  I will be Cycling for Survival. WHAT’S THAT YOU MAY BE WONDERING? Well, silence your curiosity, my dear readers. I’m going to tell you.

According to handy dandy Wikipedia, Cycle for Survival is a national (USA) movement to beat rare cancers. 100% of donations fund rare cancer research at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. The National Institute of Health defines a “rare cancer” as one with fewer than 200,000 affected individuals within the United States.Rare cancers include brain, ovarian, pediatric and pancreatic cancers, lymphoma (THAT’S ME!) and leukemia, and many other types of cancers. Approximately 50% of people with cancer are battling a cancer that is considered “rare.”

I will be raising a minimum of $4000 dollars. I want to give back. To a cause where 100% of the money goes to the hospital that treated me, for cancers like the one I had. I want so badly for cancer to be gone forever. I will do what I can, and I beg of y’all to do what you can. Cancer takes so much. It takes and takes and takes. We can’t let it win. I’ll update y’all on some links if you’re interested in donating to the cause.

My family life feels normal again. Sometimes I like to pretend my hair is a result of a spontaneous haircut and that this never happened. That fantasy lasts only a little while.

I have days where I cannot stand to look at myself in the mirror. When David calls me beautiful, I say thank you while my mind is desperately trying to see myself through his eyes. My family friend, Michelle, who I have mentioned, told me I looked gorgeous when she saw me with my new grown hair. I felt myself laugh. The comment just seemed so ridiculous to me, that someone could see me in that way. I don’t know, guys. I don’t know when or if this feeling will go away.

It is hard for me to hang out with my friends. I feel like I’m supposed to be normal Casey. But I don’t feel that way. I feel embarrassed or guilty whenever I bring up cancer to my friends, even my best friends. I feel like I should be over it. And I’m not. I imagine them talking to each other when I’m not around, saying “like I get that it was hard, but she needs to stop talking about it so much.” I have no reason to believe that is what is going on. It is just how I feel.

Classes were really hard this past semester. I loved them and I didn’t nor do I plan on giving up, but it was physically and mentally taxing. The classes that required more of my physicality, stamina and energy were way more difficult than I would have ever imagined they would be. I’m making sure to keep in shape this break to ensure I can give more of myself to it this coming semester. I want to give everything my all. There were days where I had to miss class because I simply couldn’t get out of bed, because my body or my mind couldn’t cooperate. Which could sound like an excuse to be lazy, but I don’t believe that is what I was doing. I really don’t. I love what I do, even when it is difficult. But I can push myself harder. And I will.

My play was really fun. It was student written and student directed, and my cast was unreal. Both talent and personality wise. I met so many new people, some of which I believe I’ll be friends with for a long time. They’re all so intelligent and determined. It is crazy. The girl that was played the lead character in the play became one of my good friends. Her name is Claudia. She is someone I strive to be more like. She is opinionated, passionate, hilarious, and unbelievably kind. But not the annoying kind of kind where you’re like “ugh this person is annoyingly too nice.” I hope y’all know what I mean. I’m not a monster. Anyway, one night after rehearsal her and I had the most wonderful talk on a stoop by union square, even though it was cold and late and we had school the next day. The people I call my classmates are going to be successful in whatever they do. In the relationships they’re in. In life. I swear, it’s nuts.

I went to soul cycle the other day, and this girl Ilona came up to me and told me she had read my blog, and that it inspired her. She was a girl I had never met before. I awkwardly asked her if I could hug her, and during my soul ride that evening, I cried. Happy tears.

SPEAKING OF HAPPY TEARS. During class one day, I had the happiest cry of my life. Three times a week, I have class called Studio. I may have explained this earlier in my posts, but I can be forgetful. So, deal with another explanation or scroll on, my friends. Scroll on. According to Tisch FAQ, (why explain things in your own words when you have the internet, ya feel me, dawgs?) here is how I can explain the “studio system” at NYU Tisch Drama: Upon acceptance into the Department, students are placed into one of eight different primary studios where they begin intensive conservatory training towards a strong foundation in technique. Students remain in their primary studios for two full years (four consecutive semesters). Once primary training is completed, students have many options for advanced training.

So, my primary studio is called Atlantic Acting School. And beyond being affiliated with NYU, Atlantic Acting School is its own independent acting conservatory that anyone can attend upon an audition, an acceptance and being admitted. So when I am at class, I have made friends in both the NYU portion of Atlantic but also the independent conservatory students. I have one really close friend, Andrea, from conservatory. She’s the bomb.

BUT BACK TO THE HAPPY TEARS. So one day, I was walking back from the bathroom to my next class, and this girl from conservatory approaches me. She said to me, not verbatim because it is such a wonderful blur, “I just wanted to say I think you’re really bad ass, and it’s great to see you so happy and healthy.” And I straight up started thanking her profusely and crying and I hugged her and she is someone I have spoken to maybe twice before and she just said that to me and it was amazing. And those were the happiest tears of my life. My friends saw me crying and were so concerned and I was laughing and crying and sniffling my happiness into my soul. What a wonderful day.

Well, I just threw a lot at you. I will be going away to Puerto Rico for eight days from the 14th to the 22nd. I go off the grid when I am on a vacation. But, I will hopefully update y’all not too late after my return. Thank you if you have read this far. Thank you if you read any of this. Thank you for making me feel less lonely during what will hopefully be the loneliest months of my life.

Day 1 of Radiation

Monday, July 11th, 2016

It’s 3:12 AM.

I can’t sleep.

I put my hands on my neck and fear there is cancer there, despite being towards the end of treatment.

I’m done with the chemo, that obstacle is over. But I couldn’t feel more unhappy.

I’m crying.

These days, it seems I can’t stop crying.

I hate how different my life is. I hate it so much.

And I hate how even when people have the best intentions, everything they say makes it worse.

“It’s only temporary,” they remind me. Well, it’s not pleasant to temporarily hate myself.

“You’re still beautiful,” they insist. No, I’m not. I’m not. I want so badly to see myself that way, but I don’t.

“You’re so close, it’s almost over,” they say. No, it is not. It is not over, and it won’t be over until my hair is back and I look like myself again and I feel like myself again.

This is so frustrating. I see old pictures of me and I just want to look like that again. I want to be that girl. She is so unrecognizable to me.

I’m scared people are going to stop caring about me once the actual treatment part is over. Sometimes, more often than I’d like to admit, I feel like the love I receive, both from friends and family, is temporary. (Temporary is my least favorite word nowadays.) That once the doctors declare my cells are no longer cancerous, I’ll stop getting messages of encouragement, or I’ll no longer be able to justify my outbursts of tears. That I’ll be expected to be back to my normal, happy self. And I just can’t see myself being back to that way anytime soon.

Cancer is so fucking rude. And I’m sorry for cursing, but sometimes I feel it is necessary. Cancer takes everything from you. Your independence, your health, months sometimes years of your life, your confidence, and that’s only some of it.

I am isolating myself from my friends. I don’t think I’m doing it on purpose, really. At least, I hope I’m not. It’s hard to tell. I see messages pop up on my screen and I just can’t answer. I never know what to say. When people ask me how I’m doing, I usually say “good, how are you?” And that couldn’t be farther from true. I put on a happy face when people visit me, and sometimes I fake it so well I begin to believe it myself. But then they leave and I’m left with my thoughts. And nothing is scarier.

I should try to go to sleep. I’m just scared. I’m not sure of what. I am scared.

Side note, today is four months that I have been dating David. Tomorrow is four months since that first day in the ER.

Goodnight, for now.

Today has been an amazing day so far.

Day 3 of Radiation

Wednesday, July 13th, 2016

That day, Monday, was amazing for several reasons.

So the first thing I did was wake up around 9:00, which was oh so lovely considering I went to sleep around 4:00 AM. I went to the hospital to get my finger pricked, to ensure I was no longer neutropenic.

I went straight home after that and fell back asleep. My mom woke me up to go back to the hospital, because I had to pee in a cup so they could test my urine. (What fun!!!) The first thing I do when I wake up, as many of us do, is look at my phone. And on my phone was a message from David, saying he finally got the summer job he wanted!!!!! I was so beyond happy for him. He was stressing out all summer up until then about finding work, and he finally did! So that is reason one for it being an amazing day.

Literally (maybe not literally but it feels literal so go with it) ten minutes later, my mom told me the doctors called with my scan results.

Okay, so pause.

Let me update you real quick. I finished my fifth and last cycle of chemo July 10, my last actual day of chemo was June 27, my first day of the fifth and last cycle of chemo was June 20, David surprised me in New York June 23 (more on that later), and my final scans were July 8th.

Final scans are when you go into the hospital for a PET scan and two CT scans. (Please seek earlier posts for definitions on these scans.) (If you are too lazy to do so, like I would be, google is a dope help. However, quite honestly, I am still fairly confused on the definitions of each.) SO on July 8th, I had these scans to see how my body reacted to the five cycles of chemo. If there was no evidence of disease (NED) then I would be done with chemo and onto radiation. The doctors were pretty confident that I would have no evidence of disease, because I reacted so well with my post cycle two scans. But still, I was nervous. You can’t eat all day until after the scans. My scans, lucky me, began at 4:00 and weren’t over until 6:00. And the same way on Yom Kippur, (Jewish holiday in which you abstain from food and drink the entire day) I was hungrier than usual because I wasn’t allowed to eat. We always want what we can’t have, ammiright ladies? 😉

Once they call your name in the waiting room, they bring you to a separate waiting room to prepare you for the scans. I got injected with radioactive chemicals and I had to drink a concoction that consisted of oral IV contrast and raspberry crystal light (the only option). It tastes like watered down Kool-Aid. I also eavesdropped on the people in the waiting room next to me. I think my dad was, too. Then they bring you into the scan room, which is always FREEZING, (not that I mind, I love being in cold rooms) and they have you lie down on the motorized platform. They layer warm blankets on you (similar to the hot washcloths in a nail salon, but not wet) and tell you to stay completely still. Then they injected me with IV contrast (in addition to the oral IV contrast) which makes the cancer light up in the imaging, and I did not move throughout the entire duration of the scans. However, I did hum. I don’t know why. It calms me down. My dad later told me I shouldn’t have done that. Oh well.

Back to Monday.

So, post good news of David getting a job, my mom told me the doctors called with my scan results.

No evidence of cancer!!

My brother and my mom were so excited.

I texted David and let him know. I told my friends. I wrote it in all caps to truly capture what good news this was.

But here’s the thing.

I didn’t feel excited. Of course, I was happy and grateful I did not have cancer. But the fact of the matter is, I did. And now I am hairless, unconfident, and unhappy. I smiled for my family and smiled for the world, but I felt weird. I got texts and messages congratulating me, with words of kindness and admiration. I couldn’t respond. I still haven’t responded. I feel like a phony. I didn’t do anything. I don’t feel brave. I feel scared, and alone. And how can you tell the people you love that you’re not excited about not having cancer? It’s not like I was excited about having cancer. I just felt the damage was done.

Post hospital, I played Bananagrams with my family. If you haven’t played Bananagrams, let me tell you all about it. It is my new favorite game; I’m a Bananagraddict. It is virtually Scrabble, but each person plays at the same time, and it is speed that wins: not points. That was actually a terrible explanation, but the point is, it is an amazing, addicting game.

Then I Facetimed with David for a while, (it was our four month after all) and then the entire fam hopped in the car to go to radiation.

I’ll have radiation 14 times in total. Monday-Friday, at 9:30 PM, for three weeks. (Weekends off, woo!) I go to a special radiation place, called Pro Cure Proton Therapy Center, that uses proton radiation. That is a more advanced radiation therapy that is more targeted to the tumor and less damaging to surrounding tissue in my body. The closest radiation site that uses proton radiation is located in New Jersey. (Booooooooooo!) (Kidding.) (Sort of.)

I had been to the radiation site once before, and oh boy what an event that was. Mid-June: It was a long day signing forms and talking to radiation therapists and doctors. But the most interesting part (in my opinion) was towards the end of the day. I had to get a body mold that I would lay in during the actual radiation. So I laid in some covered goo that would eventually hold me into place in weeks to come.

Prior to me laying in said covered goo, the doctor informed me that I would have to get permanent tattoos (that would look like freckles) so that the radiation nozzle would know where to go and where not to go. So while I laid in my mold, the woman whose job it was to tat me up promised me it wouldn’t hurt. She said, “I recently read that if you cough as the needle goes in, you barely even feel it.” Wonderful, I thought. So, she counted to three, and I coughed.

She was fucking wrong.

Here are the things that were wrong with her tactic. A) It did fucking hurt. B) She fucking stuck me with the needle AFTER I COUGHED. SO EVEN IF THAT COUGHING TRICK WORKED, I WOULDN’T KNOW NOW, WOULD I? And I know what you’re thinking: Casey, you said tattoos, as in plural, so couldn’t you have known if the coughing trick worked the second, third or even fourth time around? Well, silly, sure! If the woman had stuck in the needle simultaneous to my cough ANY OF THOSE TIMES. Needles to say, I no longer cough on the count of three to decrease chances of pain. On the bright side, I’m a bad ass with some dope freckle-like ink.

Anyway, back to the ride out to Jersey. I texted David, played Trivia Crack (basically Trivial Pursuit but better. I’m obsessed.) and Candy Crush (if you don’t know what that is you can ask literally any mother with a smart phone.) until we got there. We waited for a while, in the cold lobby, and I felt nerves bubble up inside me. Everyone I had spoken to, doctors and survivors alike, told me radiation did not hurt at all. It just made you tired, if anything. But, alas, the nerves had arrived. A woman came over and introduced herself as Danielle. She said to pick one family member to come with me. Scott was the chosen one. #Blessed. She accompanied my father and me through the glass door, past the nurses behind computers, through a hallway and to the changing room. Danielle handed me a blue bag with a fancy Pro Cure robe inside of it, and an ID. (My ID has a picture of me that my parents photo bombed. Very symbolic of the type of family we are.) She explained to me that I would have to remove all clothing from the waist up, put on a hospital gown (that she then handed to me) and then my rad, new robe over it. Then, she told me, I would go across the hall to wait for a radiation therapist to escort me to the treatment room.

I followed these instructions and waited with Scott in the room across the hall. A woman named Geneva brought us to my treatment room, Treatment Room 4. It is quite the facility. The best way I can describe it is a wall that looks eerily like the time machine in Austin Powers with a motorized table in the middle. Geneva introduced me to the other radiation therapist, Jackie. I shyly said hello (I become rather shy with strangers sometimes.) and waited for father dearest to make his exit before de-robing myself.

I climbed onto the table that had my mold in it (with the help of Geneva, Jackie and a stepping stool. Fml.) and laid there as they removed my hospital gown to expose the part of my chest and neck that need the radiation. Jackie asked me what Pandora station I wanted, and I requested Stevie Wonder. No regrets on that choice, dawg.

The actual radiation wasn’t painful at all. If anything, it was a bit dizzying. I’m genuinely not sure what moves around me, but the table moves and I think the machine moves and it feels like the entire room moves. I listened to the music and it was over before I knew it.

I’m actually in the lobby right now waiting to be called in to go change. I feel like a radiation pro. It’s very busy today.

Now that I’ve caught you up on the medical stuff, let me fill you in on my life. If you are solely interested in the medical side of things, I’d stop reading now. But, hey, rude.

I’ll begin with David’s visit to New York.

It was June 23rd, the fourth day of my cycle. I was sitting in the IV room, waiting for my shot that boosts my white blood cell count, in a very bad mood. My mom was beside me, and my dad was downstairs getting a Coke Zero, a common thing for him to do. Next thing I know, my dad comes in the IV room, and trailing him is the one, the only, David Frew. I felt my jaw hit the floor and I hugged that boy until I thought I may kill him.

And okay, here is the weird thing: I had a feeling he would surprise me that day.

My parents and David will deny there is any truth to this, BUT THERE IS. Let me tell you why. (I like that I say let me as though you have a choice in the matter. Hahahahahaha. Silly.)

The night before, David told me he was going to sleep early. And David NEVER goes to sleep early. That kid is up until, like, 2 AM nightly. (Morningly? Daily?) This was suspicious. Then, on the way to the hospital that morning at 7 something, I saw him comment on an instagram picture. WHY WOULD HE BE UP THAT EARLY? He will 9/10 times sleep in until noon. And in the car ride over to the hospital, I just had a feeling. I did. Believe me or don’t, I did.

Anyway, to say I was happy to see him would be an understatement. He told me he would be staying for twelve days. It was exactly what I needed after a rough three days of chemo.

And in no particular order, here are some of the things David and I did during his stay in New York.

We began the series Entourage. Well, I have seen every episode of Entourage at least twice. David had never seen it. So when I say “we” I really mean him, but I was there for it.

We saw the show, An Act of God, starring Sean Hayes. It was really funny. Especially because there was some audience participation, and of course, David was one of the participants. It is very David-esque for that to happen.

My family introduced him to the show, Big Brother. It’s a reality show that is virtually Survivor but in a house. If you watch, let me know who you’re rooting for. I’m torn but I think I want Mama De to win. Or James. There’s this one character, Bronte, who both David and I could not handle. Her voice is a special kind of irritating, the kind where you do not understand how that sound can be made from a fellow human being. I loved when she came on the screen, though, because David would always make a face. It made me laugh.

We went on a double date with Jessica (one of the five fucks) and her boyfriend, Alex. We went out to dinner. It was such a good time. It was the first time I met Alex, who is just a silly amount taller than me. Hugging him is an ordeal. David took this night as an opportunity to tell embarrassing stories about me. I won’t get into which ones, but my face was turning red continuously throughout the night, which he took great pleasure in. *Cue eye rolling.*

Speaking of his hobby of embarrassing me, one day when we were in the waiting room of the hospital, he loudly started talking about “my diarrhea” and not to be embarrassed about it. WHICH I DID NOT HAVE. I repeat: No diarrhea here. That boy is a hassle and a half who has too much pleasure in humiliating me. Which happens too easily.

David and I are also big fans of the game Odds Are. Which is essentially a game where you dare someone to do something, i.e: lick a stranger, and the person who was dared picks a number 1-100. The higher the number the less the person wants to do the dare. The number they choose is used as a range. So if I dared David to lick a stranger’s ear, and he said 30, I would then count down from three and we would say a number 1-30 after I say one. If we say the same number, then David has to do the dare. If he doesn’t, he can do a rebuttal, and we count down again. But this time, if we say the same number, I have to do it. David and I play Odds Are lots of times in public. Sometimes, he comes up with these absurd dares that have me laughing so hard my belly hurts. He is one of the funniest people I know. There was this one time, where we were walking home from dinner, and I really had to pee. He dared me to say to the next passing person, “I have to pee. You have to pee. Let’s make it happen.” And I don’t know why, but I thought that was the funniest thing in the entire world. I was laughing about that for days after.

Not to get all sappy on y’all here, but what is really great about dating David is that it is really dating my best friend. I can be 100% myself around him, without fearing he’s judging me at all. We can be sitting doing nothing or talking through hours of the night and I’m just happy he’s around. I really do think it’s fate that he came into my life when he did. He makes this experience a whole lot less sucky. He stepped up when a lot of guys would have ran away. I really feel like the luckiest girl in the world because of him, cancer and all.

My friend Lexi donated her hair to Locks of Love (sidenote: I thought it was spelled Lox of Love for so long. Now I picture a bunch of lox.) and asked me to accompany her when she did it. I was so honored that she wanted me there. She knew David was in town, so she even said to bring him. I was tearing up at one point, a mixture of happy tears and sad tears, because the last time I was at the hair salon was when I cut my hair super short. Lexi, if you are reading this, I am so proud to call you my friend.

There was one night in particular that I spent with David that I will never forget. We were sitting and laughing; he was passionately talking about super heroes and I was listening and watching his sheepish grin as he let me in on his nerdier side. There was a moment of silence, and I began crying. It was out of nowhere. The tears just fell. I was so embarrassed; we were just having such a good time, and I had to go ruin it. But David didn’t look annoyed. He held my hand as I cried in silence. It wasn’t an awkward, what-do-I-do-here silence. He was just letting me feel how I felt. We went on like that for what felt like forever. I kept saying sorry, and he kindly shut that down. No need for apologies, he said, that’s my job. He brought me in and I cried with my chin resting on his shoulder. It felt humiliating, but at the same time, so liberating. He was seeing a side of me I didn’t want him to see, and he was still sitting by my side. He didn’t make uncomfortable jokes to cheer me up. He didn’t try to say all the right things. He let me get it out. And eventually I opened up to him about everything that was going on in my head. And he shared with me too. It all poured out. Still, he stayed. He makes it easy to love him.

On the fourth of July, David’s last day in New York, we had “Date Day.” A day for just us two. We began with a late breakfast/brunch at EJs Luncheonette. If you haven’t been, I recommend it. They have huge ass pancakes though. Those portions are ridiculous. Way too much pancake for me. Delicious, but excessive. Then, we came back home to watch some Entourage. We were already in the midst of Season Three. After that, we went to a movie theater that has reclining seats, (how cool is that?) and saw Central Intelligence with The Rock and Kevin Hart. I had already seen it, but it was funnier the second time around. Then, we had a picnic in Central Park. That part may have been my favorite. We sat there just talking, playing Would You Rather, Odds Are…it was wonderful. Post picnic, we went to a restaurant called, “The Black Tap.” They’re famous for their absurdly cool milkshakes. It was amazing spending those twelve days with David. He made my last cycle fly by, and kept me smiling the whole way through.

David left on the fifth, early in the morning.

That night, I went to a Mets game with one of my best friends, Robbie. It was exactly what I needed to put me in a good mood post David’s departure. Robbie has been one of my best friends since freshman year of high school. We get along well because of our similar senses of humor. We do these weird bits that I wish I could put into words but I honestly don’t think I can. They’d also seem obscene on paper, and I’m not ready to acknowledge how weird I am quite yet.

The night was so fun and full of laughter. (And learning about baseball. #Sports.) We got interviewed by some guy for some paper, (we weren’t quoted) talked about random things and made lots of jokes. There was one moment on the subway on the way to the game, though, that stuck in my mind.

He asked me a question about radiation. Before I could answer, he said, “This will be the last talk of cancer for the night.”

I don’t know if he was saying that for my sake, or if he didn’t want to hear about it. I would assume the former. But, the entire night, I was so self conscious whenever I talked about cancer, or anything cancer related.

I don’t want to be that girl who is always talking about cancer. I don’t want to annoy people, or make them uncomfortable. Even when David was here, I felt myself filtering my cancer talk. The truth is, cancer is the biggest thing in my life right now. And it probably will be for a while. It’s a huge part of who I am now. Cancer isn’t who I am, but it definitely is shaping the person I am becoming. I can’t help but talk about it. It is around me 24/7. Even though I don’t have cancer in my body, it just takes one look in the mirror to remind me of it. Or one cab ride through Central Park to remind me of the trips to the hospital. I don’t want that to be my only topic of conversation. But it is going to be relevant to me for a long time, if not forever.

Other things that have happened during my time of not blogging: Had some dope ass visitors, Neil Patrick Harris called me, learned to sleep in my own room without anyone else there, started Shameless (already on Season Five. IT IS SO GOOD.) and became up to date on The Bachelorette. (Hit me up to discuss Jojo’s men.)

In real time, I’m on the way home from radiation. They moved my 9:00 time to 10:30, due to technical difficulties and what not, so it has been quite the night. My dad did one of those live Facebook videos to pass the time. If only y’all could see my eye rolling from here.

I’m going to try to blog more often. I feel much better after I do.

Over and out, homies.

Day 20 of the Fifth Cycle

Saturday, July 9th, 2016

I haven’t known what to write in a while.

I have been exhausted, busy, but also lazy.

I am working on a new post.

For now, I leave you with a video of me from the very beginning, when I was on anesthesia post getting my port in.

Jeffrey was the nurse looking after me.

My next post will be a super long one, so enjoy this briefness for the time being.

Quick update: Chemo is done, but radiation begins Monday. I get my port out July 18th. 🙂

P.S Hope you are all proud of my new blogging abilities, I have learned how to put in videos!!!! Huzzah!!!!!!

 

 

Day 7 of the Third Cycle

May 15, 2016

I have not blogged in quite some time. Hello, dear friends. I’m not sure where to start.

I am currently watching John Mulaney’s stand up for the hundredth time. My dad is sitting next to me eating challah. I just had a full day of visitors and I am wiped out. My mom is having a snack in the kitchen. David is passed out in the living room.

It’s been really hard. I’m not going to lie. I just hate having cancer so very much. I miss having hair. I miss feeling confident.

But, last week I went to Soul Cycle, an intense indoor cycling workout. And I felt really frustrated because I didn’t have the same stamina that I did pre-cancer. I was so proud of myself for doing it, but still. Working out felt so good. It gave me a feeling of normalcy. Soul Cycle is done in the dark, so I could take off my hat and cycle with the best of them.

Yesterday, I went again. And the atmosphere was just what I needed. It was a 90s ride, meaning all the music would be from the 90s. I went with my mom, my cousin, and David. (David wasn’t too keen on the idea but it was hilarious/amazing to have him there.) The first song that came on was “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child. AND YOU CAN’T TELL ME THAT IS A COINCIDENCE. I cycled with the biggest smile on my face. Then, my all time favorite song, “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” by Shania Twain came on. I did the entire thing, without having to go at my own pace. I felt unbelievably proud of myself, something I am letting myself do more often. I sat happily in the cab ride back home sweating next to my boyfriend and mom.

I haven’t been in the mood to recount and relive my days because it is so draining. I am exhausted right now. I will probably finish blogging sometime this evening or maybe later in the week. I’m so tired. I haven’t even done much. I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Day 10 of the Third Cycle

May 19th, 2016

David left today. I didn’t cry but I sure wanted to. He stayed with my family for the past five days before he left, and I didn’t get sick of him once. And I get sick of people easily. Not my best trait, but it is a trait of mine nevertheless.

I’ve been watching television ever since he left. It’s nice to do nothing today. I’m probably neutropenic. We won’t know for sure until tomorrow, when I get my blood taken via finger prick, but it is presumable that I am. Josh is home. He came home Monday night. He currently has a friend over. Her name is Taylor. I like to think every girl he has over is his girlfriend. She’s beautiful and was born in Australia, so naturally if that is the case I approve. She’s also wicked smart. Josh was telling me how intelligent she is, and for him to say that, it must be true. He’s super smart also. It’s been fun talking to them. It makes me feel less lonely.

I’m watching How I Met Your Mother for the hundredth time right now. My mom is on the couch smiling as she watches. I love when my mom laughs at the TV. Not at the actual television, that would be weird, but the shows or movies that are on it. It makes me smile.

Let’s go over what I have watched today. I began my day with Jane the Virgin, which I love, because the star is Gina Rodriguez, and she studied at NYU at the Atlantic studio, just as I am. Also because it is a good show and I enjoy watching it. It is one of those shows you watch and just smile at how ridiculous it is, and you’re not sure if it’s incredibly stupid or confusingly amazing. I then watched Pitch Perfect 2. Josh and Judy joined me for parts of it. Josh loves that movie, which I was surprised to find out. He laughed at all the jokes. I also love when Josh laughs at what is on the TV. Maybe I just love when all people do that. I think that’s more accurate. It’s so candid and sincere. I love it.

Then I watched more Jane the Virgin. I am officially caught up on the series. (Cue applause.) I am now ready to begin another series and I’ve gotten 1,000,000 suggestions but I really am torn at what to start next. Now I’m back to How I Met Your Mother while I ponder what to start as a new series.

Those are the facts. Here is how I’m feeling.

I feel frustrated. Honestly, cancer is more annoying than anything. It’s just irritating. I am more than halfway done with chemo, and I know I will be cured when it is done, and I still have to go through all the pain and side effects. I’m trying to think of an analogy to truly articulate how annoyed I am. I can’t. The finish line is in sight and I feel like I’m running in place. I desperately want to be done with this. I want my hair to start growing back. I want to lose the steroid weight. I want it all to be over so, so badly.

I went to soul cycle again yesterday. Exercise makes me feel good. And soul cycle makes me feel powerful. My aunt and my mom went with me. After the class, I went to the instructor and told him how I was going through cancer but his class made me feel strong. He deserved to know the impact he had, in my opinion.

Josh and his friend have left. My mom remains on the couch watching the TV. That’s all for now.

I want to tell you all about a dream I had. So I was asleep, as one is when one dreams, (well, unless it’s a day dream but you get the point) and I was a participant in a singing competition. It was on this huge stage decorated with yellow christmas lights on the edge of it. I was in the top two of the competition against my friend Mandy, (she had recently visited me) and it was my turn to sing. I got up on stage, and I killed it. I belted the song like I’ve never belted before. After I had the crowd on their feet, I woke up in the middle of the night. I was so excited about the song I had sung, I wrote down the lyrics on my phone so I would not forget when I woke up in the morning. I fell back asleep, dreamed a different dream, then woke up again. Later that day, I remembered how good the lyrics were and I checked my phone to read them. It was the most embarrassing combination of words.

“Oh my god

What do I do about this impromptu baby

Gas is not my priority

Rollin up with no gasoline

Oh my god

Mmmm.”

Those were the lyrics. I recommend reading that out loud to truly experience the humiliating words I wrote. And I woke up thinking it was GENIUS. I was like, “oh my god, yes, I must remember these words.” And this was what I was referring to. I can’t read them without my face getting red. Why, Casey. Why.

I am so tired. It’s almost six, and I am still in my pajamas from this morning. I’m still watching How I Met Your Mother. My dad is home. My mom is still on the couch. Josh is on his computer. I don’t know what to write but I feel like writing.

Sometimes I feel like what I write is really irrelevant to the experience I am going through. I don’t know if that matters.

Humans of New York is raising money for the Sloan Kettering Pediatric Wing. I read the comments a lot. It’s weird. People comment how they’re praying for the kids there who have cancer, and I think, oh, that’s me. The stories that Humans of New York discuss are intense. It makes me hate that I complain at all. And appreciate all I have. But again, I’m learning to just let myself feel how I feel. I am getting better at it.

I miss my friends. Now that NYU is over, (classes ended May 9th) everyone has left. Luckily, the other day my high school friends visited me. Julia, Elana, and Billie (three of the five fucks) plus Bradley and Adam. It was a weird feeling. We always pick up right where we left off. It’s familiar and strange all at once.

Aghhhhh I just want this to be over!!!! I could scream if I wasn’t considerate of those near me. OSao;sijfoasdfsdjf. (Text scream)

I just had some hershey kisses. I know I shouldn’t but I did heheehheehe. Score.

I am still watching How I Met Your Mother. It is 7:15 pm.

I’m neutropenic so I can’t have food from the outside world, I can only have homemade food and packaged food. I’m pretty hungry. I’m not sure what to have. I’m watching an episode about the best burger in New York City and I’m practically salivating in my seat.

There are moments in these past two weeks I want to write about but I don’t want to relive it, or I don’t have the energy to go into my memory and write it all out. I’m not sure which, to be honest.

I’m so frustrated. I don’t know why. I just want to throw things right now. I feel so limited when I am neutropenic.

I think I am going to start Secret Life of the American Teenager after this. It’s a mindless show I can get into.

I have work to do for a course called Intro to Theater Production in order to get credit. I’ve begun some reading for it but it is super hard for me to concentrate. Luckily the professor is working with me over the summer, not rushing me to complete it right away. But it’s hard.

I’m in the mood to play monopoly. If anyone wants an intense game of monopoly, please let me know. I am here, ready to play.

Day 14 of the Third Cycle

May 22nd, 2016

I haven’t blogged in a while.

Day 4 of the Fourth Cycle

June 3rd, 2016

I repeat, I haven’t blogged in a while.  So, I am going to fill you all in to the best of my ability.

The first portion of this blog post is called:

~My Introduction to Downton Abbey~

Thursday, May 19th, my mom and I decided to go to Roslyn, my hometown for the weekend. I was so so so excited. I needed new scenery desperately, especially with David gone. (I’m gross, I know.) I had a full weekend planned in my head; I wanted to see the five fucks, my friend Eryn, my best family friends the Steins and the Sweets, and I wanted to dine at my favorite hometown restaurants. I wanted to keep busy.

My mom and I hopped on the train to Roslyn, our spontaneous little adventure. We ran into our friend Nicole, a member of the Sweets, who told us she would come over later that night with her mom, Cindy to spend some time!

My mom and I had an early dinner at one of her favorite restaurants, Byrant and Cooper.

And when I say early, I mean early. I had a mission of running into as little people as I could. I was anxious and desperately avoiding the looks of pity I could receive.

And then we got home.

And then my mom asked the question I well cherish for years to come.

“Want to start Downton Abbey?”

And we watched. We watched during Nicole and Cindy’s visit and we watched right after.

I was hooked.

If you think cancer is a life changer, you sure haven’t watched Downton Abbey. That shit changes you, man.

On another note, it was really weird being alone. Even though I wasn’t alone alone it sounded so quiet compared to the city. I slept next to my mom in her big bed in our big house. It made it less lonely. I always feel lonely.

The next day, Friday, May 20th, I began my day with Downton Abbey. Ooo! What a shock!! I know, I know. But I didn’t only sit on the couch that day.

It was a beautiful day outside. But, the medicine I take, Bactrim, it makes you super sensitive to the sun. One of my favorite things to do in nice weather is run around my neighborhood. My mom said I could do that, as long as I put on a lot of sunscreen, wore a hat and a long sleeved shirt. That didn’t feel worth it to me. I felt limited. A feeling that was becoming more present in my life than ever before.

I had made plans to soul cycle with the Steins, and my friend Julia. I told them all I was hesitant about seeing other people around town. So Julia warned me that our mutual friend Helena, had coincidentally planned on going to the same soul cycle class as us. I told Julia that it’s all good, Helena is awesome. It was nice of Julia to warn me, so I could prepare myself to see people.

We got to soul cycle. It was so different not being in the city. I felt very out of my element. I was so happy when I saw Julia as we were walking in. Helena was there too. Helena handed me a bag and gave me a big hug. I was so relieved that she didn’t pour pity onto me. No delicate “how are you?” and no fragile “how is everything?” Inside the bag Helena handed me was a soul cycle bandana. It was the most amazing gift I could have gotten. I am so self-conscious about my hair while I soul cycle. In the cycling studio, I’m surrounded by powerful, beautiful women with their hair tied up in a band of strength. And there I feel, like an oversized baby with the littlest of hair dripping in sweat. I hope Helena, if you are reading this, know how much that bandana means to me.

The Steins walked in, and the crew was officially ready to ride. And we rode.

And it sucked.

The music didn’t motivate me like the classes in the city, I didn’t feel encouraged or powerful. Lexi Stein and I kept looking at each other just ready for the class to be over. I missed classes with James J. on the West Side. That sentence made me feel so snobby and city, but it is true. I gotta be honest with y’all.

After a quick shower when I got home, I returned to the world of Downton Abbey. And did I finish the first season that night? Maybe. Stop judging me.

I got an email from the Atlantic Acting School, the studio I am in at NYU. It was our spring evaluation. In the middle and at the end of each semester, we get specific notes from all our acting professors giving us feedback on our work. I was confused as to how I could have gotten a spring evaluation as I couldn’t do anything in the second half of the spring semester, but of course I opened it nevertheless.

I was speechless. I had been so worried that Atlantic had pushed me through to second year out of charity or kindness, not because of my talent. The words my teachers wrote to me gave me the validation I needed to know that I am ready to begin second year among my peers. It was something I needed that I didn’t even realize I needed.

In the mean time, since I couldn’t go outside, David was keeping me positive. We were texting nonstop and he came up with this idea: If I find there’s something I can’t do that I want to, write it down and we’ll make sure to do it next year.

So I have been doing that. And it really is helpful.

Our evening plans consisted of a wonderful dinner with the Steins. We decided to go to a restaurant far outside Roslyn, because of my whole not-wanting-to-run-into-anyone thing.

As I sat in the car, I became suddenly sad about the summer ahead. This summer is going to be a tough one. I know I’ll be a stronger person because of it, and it is better to have cancer in the summer than during the school year, but I really just rather not have it all. I have more time to think about it now which is bad. I’m trying to keep busy with friends and exercise but sometimes I don’t want company but I also simultaneously don’t want to be alone.

Dinner was a great distraction. The Steins never fail to make me smile. There’s Lee, the father, Michelle, the mother, Lexi, the daughter who is my age, and Nikki, the daughter who is Josh’s age. Josh and Nikki were still at school so did not join us, so I definitely missed them. But I had a blast. My dad and Michelle crack inappropriate jokes all the time. I feel my face blush but my heart gets warm from the laughter. I am constantly yearning for genuine laughter.

After dinner, I had some friends stop by. My friend Jordan, two of the five fucks Jessica and Julia, one of my best friends Alana and of course Lexi!!!! (and all of the Steins.)

Then I went off to bed, and even though Scott had joined us earlier in the day, I made my mom sleep with me. I am scared of being alone.

I began my next morning on Saturday May 21st, with…Downton Abbey! Casey, you’re so unpredictable! Ugh, thank you, thank you. I know. I began at 9:00 am and stayed in my paradise of Downton Abbey until 2:00, when I passed out. But after that quick hour nap, I resumed my TV.

Then we had dinner with the Sweets, minus the son, Mitchell, at one of my favorite restaurants. It was lovely. Good conversation, good company.

In the car ride home, I lost it.

I don’t know where it came from, where I found it, but I lost it.

Seeing Roslyn was too much. So much had changed within and nothing was the same anymore. And here Roslyn stood, as though no time had passed. As though nothing had changed. It made me angry. I don’t want to suffer like this. I want my hair back. I want to feel beautiful. I don’t want to spend months and months growing back hair I shouldn’t have lost. And then I got mad at myself. How dare I complain when there are so many people with worse cancers than me? I started crying out loud. And my parents don’t know what to say besides from that it is all temporary. And that’s not enough of a response for me. Sadness overwhelmed me. And as I often do, I felt lonely.

Julia and Elana (two of the five fucks) came over to hang out post dinner. I composed myself and but on the happiest smile I could pull from my commonly used file of faux-grins.

I fell asleep after an episode or two of Downton Abbey. I was ready to leave Roslyn.

This portion of this blog post is called: ~Premieres~

Sunday, May 22nd.

I woke up from a weird dream. All of the dreams I have are weird since I have started treatment. That’s a lot of weird dreams if you do the math. This one starred me running into the most irrelevant people at a huge party.

We left Roslyn and got back to the city around noon. I was exhausted. I watched Downton Abbey. I texted David, particularly happy when he laughed at my jokes. Eventually had to put the phone down though, because Judy was feeling neglected in our Downton Abbey time. I fell asleep after dinner.

Monday, May 23rd’s morning was spent at the hospital. It was a good visit. I had blood work done, via finger prick, and I did not flinch. The nurse gave me an orange band aid which was cruel and unusual punishment. (I hate orange. I am not a drama queen.) Then, I met with the team. We did the usual check up, they asked me about my symptoms…blah blah blah. I love the nurses and doctors here, though. I really do. I’m very lucky. I have to remind myself how lucky I am sometimes.

After that, I met with radiation oncologist who explained to me what radiation would be like, and estimated when we’d begin, and the side effects and short term and long term risks. I would be doing radiation beginning, probably, July 18th continuing on for three weeks, only Monday-Fridays. From what I understand, it’s being under a machine for like half an hour, wearing a mask to protect the parts that aren’t in need of radiation, while the machine’s snout focuses on the masses in my chest and neck. It’s all very happy stuff.

Honestly, was pretty hyped to be at that appointment. One, because she informed me the radiation site is CLOSE TO A SIX FLAGS. And I LOVE ROLLER COASTERS. But also, it means the end is near. And I desperately want this to be over. I feel like I sound like a broken record, but it is the truth.

I came back to the apartment and did what? You guessed it! Watched Downton Abbey.

Then, I decided to take a nap. I woke up sweating. I had a terrible dream. I was laying in a bed, with doctors surrounding me. I couldn’t see anything but doctors. They were discussing something, something I couldn’t comprehend. I was drowning in surgical jargon. Eventually I understood that they were discovering cancer in all these new places within my body. They showed me a screen, so I could follow the growths.

I’m usually more upset about the things that cancer does to me right now than the actual cancer itself. It made me think maybe my subconscious is more worried than I am.

This Monday was a special one. It was the BACHELORETTE PREMIERE.

After a DOPE 6:30pm soul cycle ride with James J, Judy and I ran back home and sprinted into the showers. It was Bachelorette time. Well first it was make-Judy-happy-and-watch-Dancing-with-the-Stars time, but THEN it was the Bachelorette time. I’ve made some guesses on who is going to last and who isn’t. I’ll save those for later in the game. But I can tell you one thing for sure, I hate that Chad guy. and Daniel. They’re bad news, JoJo. They’re bad news.

And with the satisfaction of knowing what is best for my dear friend JoJo, the bachelorette, I was off to sleep.

This portion is called: ~Big Days~

Tuesday, May 24th.

That day was a big day.

It began with a morning soul cycle with mother dearest and our fave instructor James J.

Then, back home to shower. Julia was coming in to visit me. We also had an appointment at the wig place that day. So we mixed the two together and Julia joined us. I was kind of excited  to find a wig because that night, because Judy and I had been invited to a movie premiere for the movie “Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping,” with Andy Samberg. I wasn’t big on the wig idea at all, it felt fake and false and constraining. But I wanted to feel beautiful or at least normal, and I knew part of that meant having hair, whether it be real or fake.  Otherwise I would be focusing on myself during the entire premiere experience, which would be a real waste.

I went to the wig store. Julia met my mom and I there. It wasn’t as emotional as my last visit to the wig store. In fact, is was more fun. I tried on brunette wigs, blonde wigs, red wigs. I felt ridiculous and a little embarrassed, but having Julia and my mom there to cheer me on really helped. The man assisting us in our wig shopping was also a god send. He was patient and understanding, realizing that this was more than a wig-for-halloween kind of search.

I decided on a blonde wig, because WHY THE HELL NOT. The world knows I have cancer, so somehow trying to pull off a brunette wig made me feel even phonier. Blonde was the new me. I feel so weird in it and not like myself, which is pretty much how I feel everyday.

But when we went to lunch, I felt confident. I didn’t feel like people were staring at me, trying to decide what gender I was or why I had no hair. I felt girly. A bit more like myself.

Then the three of us got our nails done. At the nail salon, I have to use all new things: new nail files, new polish, etc. And I can’t cut anything. This is to reduce possible infection. So I felt a bit like a burden as my mom reminded the woman doing my nails that everything had to be new. But after my nails were painted in a pretty pink, I felt a bit more like myself.

Julia left, and mother and I got ready for the big night. I threw on an all black ensemble, my favorite, some makeup and a bold red lip. I didn’t feel pretty, per say, but I felt a bit more like myself.

I FaceTimed with David until I had to go. He took the blonde look well from what I could tell at least. He gave me the extra bit of happiness I needed in order to go out in public with confidence.

My mom and I walked to the premiere (it was amazingly close to our apartment) and got our tickets for the premiere and the after party (cue eyebrow wiggle) inside. My mom and I sat down smack dab in the middle of the theater, as that is where our tickets led us. They were amazing seats. As we spoke amongst the two of us, we watched actors and people that were probably actors who I couldn’t recognize stroll in. Seth Meyers casually made his way to his seat.  Keegan-Michael Key and Beck Bennett were in the two in front of me. Behind me, ONE ROW BEHIND ME, was the Maya Rudolph. We got these tickets through an old friend of my mom’s who had read my blog, and him and his family were incredibly kind to us the whole evening. The move itself had me hysterically laughing, (especially because I sat next to someone was in it the movie, and he had the most contagious laugh.) The after party was super cool, I found myself imagining a celebratory party for a movie I was in one day. I couldn’t help it. We didn’t stay there long, I was very tired, so we walked back to our apartment, I FaceTimed David to fill him in on the wonderful evening, and went to sleep.

Wednesday, May 25.

Woke up feeling like I had a hangover, despite having no consumption of alcohol these past few months. (Or ever, mom and dad. 😉 ) I guess my body wasn’t used to all the excitement the premiere provided. That afternoon, I saw the show Fully Committed with Jesse Tyler Ferguson. It was a one man show which I am usually not the biggest fan of from the ones I have seen, but I really liked it. He was so talented; there were like 40 different characters with distinct voices and character choices. It was really impressive. I wish I could ask him about his script analysis process. I spent the rest of the night in pajamas. My dad brought the dogs home for a few days, and I was super excited to be with them. I was attacked with love and kisses. I FaceTimed David, and then I went to sleep.

Thursday, May 26th

This was also a big day. A very long day.

This was the hospital’s prom.

I have never seen the hospital so busy.

First things first:  It’s 8:00. I get my blood pricked. Joy. Didn’t flinch though. Got two princess band aids. The nurse pulled out Belle and Cinderella. She called Cinderella by the name Snow White and I didn’t have the heart to correct her.

Then: Have to meet with the team. Have to do it in a timely fashion because my next appointment is soon. During our wait, Suzie, my absolute favorite person to see at the hospital, insisted I try on the amazing gowns that were donated to the hospital. Beautiful gowns. Alice and Olivia kind of gowns. She ushered me into a bathroom with eight dresses in hand. I tried them on to appease her but not for a second did I imagine taking one home. In my head I thought, these are for people with cancer. But then I remembered, I do have cancer. But I don’t feel like I do. I don’t feel like I deserve presents and gifts and free gowns for this. It isn’t meant for me.

There was a face painting station I really wanted to do, but I am 18 years old and the other face painting clients weren’t exactly around that age frame.

Met with the doctors. Filled them in on what they needed to be filled in on.

Next: Go to the ground floor for my physical therapy. My physical therapist, Regine, is the dopest. We discussed parties and boys and what she was wearing to the hospital prom. She asked me if I was going. I said no.

Then: Different wing of the hospital. Time for the pulmonary function test. Last time I had done it, it was at the very beginning, and it was incredibly difficult to do. I was not looking forward to it. A nice guy named Gary led my father and I into the pulmonary function room. It was much easier, and Gary was super pleasant. He called me quiet. My dad kept taking pictures of me so I would flip him off when Gary wasn’t looking.

BREAK: Noon. Time for lunch. We go to some casual pub across from the hospital. Played cards. Rested for what felt like a second.

Next: 1:30 Back to the wing of the hospital I was just in. Had an echocardiogram. It feels gooey and relaxing all at once. It’s basically a sonogram but on your chest. I almost fell asleep. I was exhausted.

Last appointment: Occupational therapy. Back down to the ground floor. Brianne rocks. We did some ab work outs and some yoga exercises. I was wiped the hell out.

Home. Home was refreshing. My two friends Brendan and Sammi visited me. Sammi brought this INSANELY cool homemade How I Met Your Mother Monopoly board. It’s ridiculous. I can’t wait to play it. And of course, Brendan brought his amazing sense of humor. It was such a nice night. We caught up and joked for hours.

Friday, May 27th.

My friends from my acting high school, LIHSA, visited me! It was SO AMAZING. It was wonderful hearing about all their college experiences and just seeing their happy faces. After their visit I was so wiped out, I passed out next to my dogs. I woke up to the smiling faces of my grandparents! They were in from Arizona!!! I was so excited. My grandpa was getting over a fever, so I didn’t hug him, but I gave so much love in my hug to my grandma I hope it was enough for the both of them. We all went out to dinner and it was lovely. It felt like forever since I had seen my grandparents. I was just very happy. I was also exhausted, so after dinner I passed out.

Saturday, May 28th.

I began my morning with laying down with the puppies.

Everything was fine, until it wasn’t.

I let my mind wander on how long it will take for my hair to grow back.

On how long it will take to lose the steroid weight.

On how I am missing an entire summer.

On how I missed half a semester of doing what I love.

On how I make my parents live completely different lives than they would’ve been living if not for this.

And again, I lost it. I kept it inside.

My mom and I went to the show in silence. I couldn’t speak. If I spoke one word, I knew the tears would involuntarily follow. We got to the venue. Still no words. I felt my mom grow annoyed at my silence but I couldn’t speak. I just couldn’t. The show began. No words. Intermission occurred. Nothing. End of the show. Speechless.

I didn’t speak at all until we got home. I began crying. Shaking and crying. I was getting angry at anyone and anything. The worst of it is that there is no one to blame, but sometimes you feel a need to blame. And with a strong mix of guilt and anger, my parents are the closest targets. Julia was already on her way over when I lost it, so I tried to compose myself. The minute she sat down, I began crying again. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I felt like I was going to vomit. I ran to the bathroom, hysterical, tears dripping down my face. I looked in the mirror. My eyebrows were so thinned out. My eyelashes were missing in spots. I felt like I was being punched in the stomach. I watched myself cry for what felt like hours, or maybe just a minute. My mom came in, trying to get me to come outside of the bathroom. And I wouldn’t. My mom told Julia she better go home. I felt sick to my stomach with guilt, but I didn’t do anything to stop it. I couldn’t stop crying. I hated it. I hated my life. I hated it so goddamn much. And then I hate myself for hating everything when I don’t even have it that bad. Our dinner company was on their way up, so I ran into the bedroom and stayed in there the whole night. My parents made an excuse for me and I listened to them dine and laugh all evening. I hated myself.

Sunday, May 29th.

I met my grandparents around noon. They came to the apartment. We sat and talked, it was really fun. I love my grandparents so much. They aren’t often in New York, and when I was growing up and they lived close by, I didn’t appreciate them the way I do now. We went to a movie called The Nice Guys at the same theater the Popstar premiere was at. It was entertaining, but I definitely could have waited to see it on DVD. I’m not a huge Russell Crowe fan.  Afterwards, we walked and talked for a while. It was really refreshing to be able to talk to my grandparents as an adult. I told them about my friends, about David, my training in school. It was awesome.

Monday, May 30th,

Another movie date with my grandparents. We saw The Lobster. It was definitely an interesting film. I found it intriguing, maybe a bit too long at parts. I loved the acting in it. If anyone else has seen it I would love your thoughts on it. A great day with grandma and grandpa.

Tuesday, May 31st,

Day one of chemo. I got to the hospital around 8:00, got into my chemotherapy room and slid into the bed immediately. I was out like a light. I woke up around 10:30, apparently thirty minutes before I had surprise visitors. I always ask my mom if I should wear a hat, which is basically my way of saying “is my lack of hair going to make these surprise guests uncomfortable?” She told me I’m fine without the hat. It was the five fucks!!! All in one place, visiting me. It was so nice to see them. I felt an unexplainable need to entertain them, and felt at a loss to do so. We chit chatted and it was a familiar feeling. I didn’t want them feeling uncomfortable. I felt like a freak. I was surrounded by four people who know me so well and I couldn’t feel less like myself.

So my mom’s friend’s friend’s son went through the same thing I am going through, and is now in his radiation portion. He was this ‘lil cute thirteen year old boy. He got straight to the point and asked me questions like “how do you still have hair?” or “which side is your port on” “can I see your scar”? It was so amazing. He just got it. We could have conversations about the drugs I’m taking and the side effects and he just completely got it. I felt less self conscious all thanks to this thirteen year old boy. I just laughed as he joked about us being in our own little fraternity.

Then everyone left and it gave me some time to myself, before my next surprise visitor.

Suzie came in, telling me about her blind date she was about to go on. Suzi feels like an older sister to me. I am so grateful I met her in this process. She is so amazing.

My next guest was, ANDY SCHNEEFLOCK!!!! One of my favorite teachers ever in the world. It made me so extremely happy to see him!!! He teaches Moment Lab, one of the classes in my 8:00-6:30 days. It teaches the importance of being present and in the moment an truthful with yourself, your scene partner, and your ensemble as a whole. He could be the most down to earth guy I have ever met. It was awesome talking about everything with him. He also brought me a play, but what he didn’t know (until I practically scream to inform him) IT WAS MY FAVORITE PLAY. Machinal, by Sophie Treadwell. What a play.

After his awesome visit, I fell asleep until it was time to go. 8:00 pm. Long day. Fell right back asleep the minute I got home.

Wednesday, June 1st,

Day two of chemo. This day is a blur for me. Grandma and grandpa visited, but I hardly remember. I slept throughout most of Wednesday.

Thursday, June 2nd,

Had occupational therapy before Chemo. Felt like a zombie. My grandpa visited but I hardly remember that, too. I was a sleep monster. Fell asleep, woke up, chemo was over.

Today. Friday, June 3rd. Went into the hospital this morning for physical therapy with Regine and my shot that boosts my immune system. Came home. Started recapping my life that I haven’t blogged. Now I’m here.

I won’t lie to you guys, this is hard. I want so badly to be okay again. To look like myself. To feel like myself. Thank you for reading as I experience this and for those of your reaching out, strangers and friends alike, it means the world.

I am trying to stay positive. I feel lonely a lot. That’s really hard. I feel tired. Really tired. I feel fake. Sometimes my smiles are real and other times I’ve never felt more foolish.

That’s where I’m at.

Day 16 of the Second Cycle (I think)

May 3rd, 2016

I feel like a lot of the time I throw some negative news at y’all so I’m happy to say this post is a happy, happy post. I’m going to fill you guys (I wanted to say y’all but I just said it before and I feel like two y’alls in a row may overwhelm you guys [y’all] too much.) in on my weekend. That previous sentence was so confusing to read. Sorry ‘bout it.

So my weekend was particularly amazing beginning Friday night. David came over; we had a movie night and ate pancakes. (With my dad, because there is nothing more romantic.) We watched a movie called Adventureland. It’s with Kristen Wiig (WHO I LOVE) and Bill Hader (WHO I LOVE) and Ryan Reynolds (WHO WE ALL LOVE) and other very talented people. My dad had seen it already but I hadn’t nor had David. I really enjoyed it. I thought it was very enjoyable. That is basically the same sentence but I didn’t realize until after I typed it and I want to keep it.

The next morning my mom went back to Long Island for the day, and I had to go to the hospital at noon. So I slept in (haha, just kidding. My body likes to wake me up at 8:00 am! Awww so sweet of you, body!!!!) and showered for the hospital. No nurse likes a smelly patient. David accompanied my father and I to the hospital.

Okay. So. This next part is my favorite highlight of the whole weekend. That may make the entire rest of this post anticlimactic, but you win some you lose some, ammiright?

On Saturday, I was going to the hospital VOLUNTARILY to make sure I wasn’t neutropenic. I wanted to be able to go to Relay for Life, which was that night. I could only go if my neutrophil count and what not was up. So I would need a finger prick that would be over real quick (call me Dr. Seuss) and I’d be on my way with the results in hand in no time.

So my dad, David and I cabbed to the hospital.

Let me tell you. I fucking love the hospital on Saturdays. Well, I never really love the hospital ever but if I had to choose when to love it, it would be Saturdays. It is empty and quiet and there is a nurse on Saturday that is the bomb.com. (Don’t click that link. I don’t know what it leads to.)

We get to the back of the Pediatric Urgent Care area, where one goes on a Saturday, and Brittany (the super dope nurse I was referring to moments ago) informed us that the machine that gives results using the finger pricks isn’t accessible on the weekend. This was bad news. It meant they would either need to a) access my port or b) do it through a vein on my arm (IV version). Nothing gives me more anxiety than getting my port accessed, and the week prior I had done the “b)” version, so I went with choice B.

I then had to warn David of what occurs when I get my blood taken. I could potentially

1. Get lightheaded
2. Need to lie down
3. Need water
4. Get pale
5. Pass out

And a few more options, but basically I do not tango gracefully with needles nor blood. Brittney (I don’t know how to spell it so I may spell it differently every time. Just for kicks.) gave me numbing cream to put on my arm, and told me she’d be back soon once the numbing cream kicks in. Joy.

The time in between that and my blood test was weird and great. My dad played some nice throwback tunes (understatement: they were awesome) and David sat next to me. We all bantered and chatted amongst ourselves and with the nurses around us. Both David and my dad were making me laugh. It was one of the moments where not a lot is happening but everything is so…happy (for lack of a better term) that you remember it vividly. I don’t know how to explain it. But it makes me smile.

Brittany then came back for the blood test. I gripped David’s hand (I normally have my mom in that position) and looked away.

And guys.

GUYS.

LISTEN TO THIS.

I. DIDN’T. EVEN. FLINCH.

I did not even flinch, ladies and gentlemen. I, yours truly, Casey Landman, did not flinch. I didn’t get pale. No, I did not need water. I was a-okay.

This has never happened in the history of my life. I did not feel the needle. I was a champion and a half.

I rarely applaud myself but how can I not after a life changing event such as that?

Afterwards, we continued our banter and music until the results came in. MY COUNTS WERE UP!!! Yippee!! We treated ourselves to brunch, David went back to NYU and it was time for a nap.

Or so I thought.

I could not sleep for the life of me. I watched The Proposal (Ryan Reynolds part two. Yum.) and just laid in bed.

My mom came back from Long Island with our family friend, Michelle, who is a bucket of fun. The four of us (Judy[my mom], Scott,[my dad], Michelle and I) went to dinner and then headed to Relay for Life!

My acting school classmates made a team called “Swaglantic” (our acting school is named Atlantic Acting School) and had t-shirts made up that said Swaglantic and #teamcasey. It made me feel all kinds of levels of love.

David came to the registration table and accompanied the four of us to the Swaglantic Relay for Life table. The entire venue was full of people fundraising for the charity. David showed me where events were happening and the atmosphere was just so full of hope and intention, my mood was lifted even higher.

Every 15 minutes or half hour there was a new event. One event was donating your hair, another was pie-eating (my friend Shanna from Swaglantic won. Represent.) and there was even Zumba and a lip sync battle. (Wasn’t there for the lip sync, but Swaglantic killed.) At 8:45, there was dodgeball. My father, a fan of dodgeball, made it just in time for the second (and last) round.

And he destroyed. Those poor college students didn’t know what hit them. Literally.

Along with some participants from the Swaglantic team, my dad hoarded dodgeballs and stayed in the game until the very end. Not only that, but made the winning throw to get the opposing team out. All of us on the sidelines were half scared half impressed.

I’m a proud daughter.

The entire night was amazing and spent surrounded by amazing people. My dad also got a henna tattoo.

I wish you guys could meet the people I get to go to school with. They’re the kind of friends people write about.

We left around 10:30 but the night went until the next morning. The event was from 6:00 at night to 6:00 in the morning, because cancer never sleeps. David and a few other Swaglantics stayed the entire time. They’re crazy.

After a game of Rummikub with Michelle and my parents, I passed out.

Sunday was a great day spent with visitors from high school friends, and Monday morning was spent at the hospital (not so great) but made better by visiting my college friends at our dorm to watch them rehearsal. My nurse, Mindy, (she is really awesome and one of my favorite people there) at the hospital told me I am one of their most active patients, which made me feel really great because I feel like I do nothing. But that is comparing myself to my former non-cancerous self.

Today I went to the morning half of my acting classes. It is so awesome just to be near the talented actors I’m lucky enough to call friends, teachers included. I love being there. I am so lucky to be there.

I watched Monsters University and napped on and off post class. My body is tired.

My grandma joined us for dinner, which was really lovely.

I also received a poster from a girl named Lizzi, who lives all the way in Maryland. She started a bake sale with her friends in honor of “Team Casey.” I’d be lying if I said I didn’t tear up. I also got an email from someone going through the same fun stuff I’m going through. She was looking for someone to talk to that understands what she’s experiencing, and I didn’t realize it until it happened, but I think I need that, too. Sometimes helping and being helped can go hand in hand.

This week has been so great. I’m in such a great mood and I haven’t cried for bad reasons in so long. I also find comfort in Destiny’s Child’s (that sounds weird but it feels grammatically correct) song, “Survivor.” Tomorrow, Judy and I are seeing a show and grabbing lunch with a friend.

I feel on top of the world. Fuck Cancer.

Day 9 of the Second Cycle

April 26, 2016

I am currently sitting in bed, and it is 1:36 in the afternoon. I can’t lie down because I get heart burn when I lie down. So I am sitting.

I am also scrolling Facebook and texting my friends.

It’s an exciting life I lead.

So much has happened since I last wrote. It has been an emotional week; those pills really mess with your emotions. It has been really difficult. But I am doing better now.

On Saturday the week really turned around for me. My mom and I went to a makeup store for a private lesson on how to do makeup. Since I’m losing my hair and my self-esteem has never been lower, it was a really good plan. My mom and I had a lot of fun with the guy who taught me. His name is Nicholas and he got accepted into pre-med graduate school but is instead going after his dream of being a painter. Judy asked him to Purell at least five times. Nicholas. What a dude. He told me about how his girlfriend lives on Long Island, and how he went there for passover, and how telling a pair of adults who raised your significant other that you’re pursuing painting isn’t the easiest task. Hey man, I’m pursuing an art career, too. I get you, I get you. I felt really beautiful after I learned about all the makeup.

Saturday night I had six friends come over for a mini Passover seder. Also, my brother was home. He was really kind and I could tell he didn’t want to upset me. My parents must’ve warned him about the evil steroids my chemo has me on during the first week.

Having my friends over significantly changed my mood. They kept me distracted and happy. We began the evening playing a game called “Smart Ass.” If y’all have never played it, I for sure recommend it. You need to know a lot about everything (I’m really bad at the game) but it is a wonderful time. It’s trivia based and so my brother pretty much wins every time. I don’t mind, though. I am happy people will play it with me at all.

Playing board games with a lot of people is especially fun. Everyone needs to be committed to the game in order for it to work well, and that is exactly what happened. Really, people taking a game seriously means the world to me. I love when people take “silly” things and make it mean something. It’s more fun that way.

Then we made our way to the table. We did a quick seder, had food, and ended the night with a hilarious game of Cards Against Humanity, which is basically Apples to Apples but rated R instead of PG.  If you don’t know what Apples to Apples is, shame on you. Shame, shame.

The days have blurred and I don’t really remember much of the more minuscule details of the week. I spent a lot of time with David, who has become very comfortable in our home. My mom and him have a secret handshake. I would tell you how weird it is, but it is secret after all. But I wish y’all could see me rolling my eyes through the screen.

It makes me anxious to think about all my friends leaving for summer. I am afraid I’ll be lonely in the city since all my high school friends are in Long Island. It can be a hassle to schlep (am I my mother?) to the city.

My computer is dying so I think I will go charge it. My day isn’t super exciting anyway. I’m not sure I have much to write.

Day 10 of Treatment

April 27, 2016

The rest of my day was not super exciting, as I predicted. I had incredibly terrible heart burn and spent the evening trying to find a way to make it stop. Sleep is the only real medicine to not having heart burn.

I keep having the weirdest dreams. I’m not sure if it is the medicine (the many, many, medicines) I take that causes them, but they are always so vivid. I remember most of them. I’d share them, but they’re so weird I can’t bring myself to do that.

I have numbness and tingling in my fingers. The doctors told me this could be a side effect. As I type, my skin feels funny against the keyboard.

Post waking up, I had to take this pink liquid medicine on an empty stomach. It is supposed to prevent heart burn. It also happens to be the most disgusting concoction to ever enter my system. It looks beautiful; it’s a medicine cup of bubblegum pink. It tastes terrible. Don’t let it fool you. I almost threw up afterwards, so I think we are looking for a pill alternative.

I have never been so bored. I have so much I can do: read, write, play games, watch movies…but I can’t bring myself to do any of it. I have to make myself do something but I don’t want to. These are the moments I do not believe I am strong. I am just along for the ride.

So there are auditions for a school show this week even though it opens in the fall. I think I am going to audition despite it being musical theatre (I prefer being in straight plays since I’m more confident in my acting abilities than my singing) and just for some audition experience. I am currently picking out musical theater contemporary uptempo songs I think will fit my voice. My knowledge of this music is severely low. But it is fun to be singing.

I am going to go do puzzles with Judy now.

Day 11 of the Second Cycle

April 28th, 2016

Yesterday ended up being a lot of sleeping and crying. Nothing much to blog about.

Today I went to the hospital to get my blood taken. It was not very productive. I cried a bit. What’s new.

Now I am waiting for my high school English teacher, also my all-time favorite teacher, to arrive. Her, my mom and I are all going out to lunch and hopefully playing board games. She is the best.

I’ve been really down on myself lately and I’m trying not to be. A side effect of a bunch of the drugs I take is weight gain and an increase in appetite. I’ve talked briefly about body image before, but it has never taken over my life the way it does now. I feel like my life is eat, feel terribly, sleep, eat, feel terribly, cry, eat, sleep, etc. I am going to a Zumba class tomorrow. It will hopefully improve my mood.

Wow. What a turn of events.

My teacher, Mrs. Grgas who (whom?) I now call Jay because we are on that level, visiting was so so so fun. She met my mother and I at the restaurant, where we talked about a variety of fun topics. Then we went back to the apartment, did a bit of a puzzle that Judy and I began and played Rummikub. (An amazing game. If you don’t know it, now you do.)

I think having company over is key to my happiness. I feel almost forced to be happier when around people, but in a good way. I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes you really do need to fake it until you make it. And although I was exhausted when I first arrived at the restaurant, I was having an amazing time before I knew it.

I can’t remember if I mentioned this, but my fingers are numb. (A side effect to one of the many drugs I take.) Typing feels really weird on my fingers.

I am so tired.

I am overtired.

I am watching New Girl and laughing out loud at the jokes. I hope some of y’all watch this show. Too good.

David wants to wear his Flash costume (the superhero. He made this costume from scratch and by himself. He’s the coolest) to the hospital and make kids smile. (I am treated at a pediatrics hospital, to reiterate. Not sure 60 year olds would have the same reaction to a teenager dressed as a superhero.) I am constantly shocked at how awesome of a person he is. All my friends, really.

My four best friends from high school, (we call ourselves the five fucks. It’s a little weird and cult-like, but I would be lying if I said the five of us aren’t weird and cult-like) made me a video. (https://youtu.be/djYsnLTfW8I) It made me hysterically laugh but made my parents cry. I can’t help but think I am the luckiest cancer patient in the world to have friends like these.

For real. It sounds cheesy but I am so lucky. #blessed, but actually. I get packages and letters everyday from people just wanting to send a bit of their love through mail. I can’t thank my support system enough.

That sounded a bit like I was thanking the academy. Which hopefully one day I’ll do. Good practice, Case. Good practice.

I think I’m gonna watch some New Girl and then head to sleep. I have Zumba mañana at 9:15 am. I am so excited. I will definitely blog about it. That sounds so lame. But I will.

Oh!!! Before I leave you, there is something you should know about me. I love portmanteaus. What is a portmanteau, you ask? According to www.merriam-webster.com, it is either a) a large suitcase or b) a word or morpheme whose form and meaning are derived from a blending of two or more distinct forms (as smog from smoke and fog). Although I enjoy a massive suitcase, (Suitcase is also a nickname I have from my younger years. suit. case. [case]y. Hilarious, I know.) I mean the latter definition. I love portmanteaus. Reclax, recline and relax. Witanter, witty banter. I love them so much. My mind creates them as soon as possible. David says he hates it but he secretly loves it and makes them all the time. I just thought I should share that with you.

Also, any tips to cure boredom would be lovely. I am often bored.

Okay. Now really leaving. Goodnight to all. (It’s 7:10 in the evening.)

Day 3 of the Second Cycle

April 20, 2016 (4/20) Happy Holidays!

I haven’t written in quite sometime. I haven’t been feeling up to it at all. I’ve been doing a lot of crying and a LOT of sleeping. I kind of took a seat back from the world and didn’t answer my phone as often as I should have. (Back on those fun pills that mess with your emotions.) But as of today, I am feeling motivated and ready to go.

I am back to report some things I’ve noticed within our sorrowful time apart. But first, let me set the scene in which I write to you in.

My parents provide the background music of both of them FaceTiming the same person, but on their separate phones. I don’t ask questions.

I currently need to pee but I am so close to being done with the last drug for the week (aka they de-access me) so I am HOLDING IT TIL IT CAN’T HOLD NO MORE. (excuse my use of language. It is for dramatic effect. )

The chemotherapy-room table is my sophisticated desk that I sit my computer gracefully on, in order to report to you, my sweet, sweet readers.

Behind my parents is an opaque wall where I can see the lining of Cowboy Bob. This will lead into the things I have noticed during my short-lived hiatus.

1.

This pee thing is actually getting to me. 45 minutes left. Must distract. Ok. Let’s try this again.

1. Cowboy Bob. My totally-normal-obsession with him has become more of an endless intriguement. (Not sure if that’s a word. But I am keeping a list of things I find out about him. So maybe we don’t need to ex out the word obsession.) (I just peed. I had to.)

• Talks to parents mostly
• Actually pretty nice
• His day off is Tuesday
• He knows my name. He greeted me on my way back from the bathroom.
• He has a key chain on the back of his jeans filled with bracelets. I caught the name of one of them: Angels of Sandy Hook Elementary. He’s officially a great guy.
• Wears Sheriff badge. Is he Cowboy Bob or Sheriff Bob?!!???
• He asked me if he could have the honor of taking my vitals. Our friend Sheriff/Cowboy Bob is a jokester it seems.
• He wears glasses and has a mustache.
• He always wears a procedure mask. (Flu masks) He is a prepared man.
• Wears yellow live strong bracelet
• Makes jokes and was happy when he got me to smile.
• Returned to take my vitals but said “May I again have the honor?” This guy. Ammiright.
• Made small talk on my way out today. My dad and I think his real name is Mark.
• Do I even know him anymore?

So, basically, CBB and I are on the way to being great pals. I will continue my list though, don’t worry. I’ve also realized my list has punctuation but sometimes it does not. I apologize for those who are serious about punctuation.

2. I will have to change my Bitmoji. What’s a bitmoji, you may be wondering? I will tell you. A Bitmoji is a personal emoji that eerily, dare I say, creepily, looks like you. I made mine way back in the day (first semester) so I’ve realized my wavy brown locks will have to be changed to a bald head. It made me laugh but like, in a really sad way. Hahhahhaah. Cringe.

3. Whenever I am in the bathroom in the apartment I’m staying at, (clearly peeing is something I often do. [and excel in, for your information.]) I start to see faces in the tiling. The same way one looks at clouds and sees rabbits and ice cream trucks and elephants, I see faces and pants and bananas. It’s a fun time.

So today was my third day of Chemo of the Second Cycle. Pretty exciting stuff, to be honest. If everything goes well, I should be done with chemo by July 10. Can you imagine? Because I can and it makes me jumpy and I just want to be there already. I don’t ever know what I am supposed to capitalize. Fuck it.

Today, I got to the hospital around 8:30 for my occupational therapy. This was my first time there. I fell asleep in the waiting room. (I am telling you, I sleep more than ever. I am kind of like a baby. Close-to-bald head and all.) Speaking of which, I am coming to terms with the hair thing. But we’ll get back to that later.

So I’m full on sleeping in the waiting room, but then we hear my name. My parents and I go into the examination room. Our occupational therapist was Hallie. She may or may not be Reese Witherspoon. Then, I had my physical therapist call me into the physical therapy room. She was awesome. Her name is Regine. We talked about dance, about acting, about clothes. It gave some normalcy to this otherwise abnormal situation.

Then we were on my way to the chemotherapy room. Bed 26, Cowboy Bob’s (Or Mark!!?!!?) territory. Score. (Hence my beautifully detailed list about him.) I sat up and began FaceTiming one of my best friends from High School, Elana, to show her what it looked like when a port was accessed. Then, I FaceTimed Kristina, because it was time to finalize where we were living next year. (We’re going to be roommates!!!!!)

Us and two other girls (Marion and Katie) want to live in a dorm together next year. Two in one room and the others in another. Unfortunately for us, we were given a not-so-ideal time to choose. (Everyone who plans on dorming is given a time to do so.) So I FaceTimed Kristina who was with both Katie and Marion from my bed in my chemotherapy room.

I have never been so stressed.

This room was taken, this floor wasn’t high enough, we can’t be in that dorm…and I was listening from a phone instead of face to face interaction. I felt like I was not being heard and I was so stressed out I honestly am getting worked up just reliving it. It was just another reminder that I am not a normal freshman girl. And it took all my control not to start crying. And my dad saw me getting upset so he thought it would be a good idea to step in and start talking into the FaceTime. Which made me completely upset. I pushed him away, feeling stupider than I did before. My friends were going at it with ideas and looking at the same screen, while I was talking not even knowing if anyone was listening. I felt like that one person on a sidewalk who is struggling to stay in line with the rest of their friends. It just sucked.

Once I got off the FaceTime, I breathed in, and on the exhale began to cry. I felt like I did something wrong. It wasn’t even a big deal what was happening, it just got to me.

I didn’t have time to cry for long, because my nurse, Angela, came in to get some of my blood and to hook me up to some saline for hydration! Woohoo! I worked on my blog and joked around with my parents for a while.

Doctors came in and out checking on me. My dad went to get a soda from the vending machine, my mom went to the bathroom, and I was content typing to y’all on my computer. I didn’t feel nauseous, had a chocolate pudding…all was good. (well?)

Then my mom came back with someone I had met in a previous hospital visit, Suzie. Suzie is really cool. She works in Child Life Services. Suzie reminds me of one of the cool counselors I had at summer camp. My mom, Suzie and I had a really dope conversation about feminism, Amy Schumer, and how gender stereotypes and double standards are so present in our daily life. It was such an awesome conversation that had nothing to do with cancer. It was awesome. I know I just said that, but it was.

Not soon after, my social worker, Kristie came in and joined us, but asked my mom and dad to step out.

We had the greatest conversation I’ve had in so long. We talked about everything I’ve been holding in but with such needed comic relief in between. Both of them had insight and words of comfort that I needed to hear after this past week. I was in a really bad place these past few days, nonstop crying and nonstop sleeping. Worrying about my hair, and being normal, and everything in the future. Losing my eyebrows, maybe even my eyelashes. Seeing my friends enjoy the beautiful NYC weather and not being able to participate. Nonstop worry. And this conversation gave me what I needed. We talked about everything. Not just cancer.

I am motivated. I feel really motivated. I am so exhausted and tired right now in this moment, but tomorrow I am going to wake up. And it will be a new moment. And I am going to go the hospital for that stupid shot I need to get, and then I am going to go on a walk. And then I will do yoga. And I will kill cancer.

*cue hero-esque music*

I just got off the phone with my very favorite Uncle Michael’s friend named John. John is really into theater (writing and performing) so it was awesome to hear from him. It was such an uplifting conversation, too.

Judith darling (my mom) made me some of her infamous baked french fries. THEY WERE DELICIOUS. But now I am still hungry. I have weird cravings all the time and I am weirdly craving chocolate chip Little Bites muffins. They are so delicious.

David drew a picture of Spiderman (it’s really good. He’s very talented.) and my mom put it on our refrigerator. It makes me smile. He surprised me at the hospital yesterday morning Whadddda guy.

Within the past week I went to a wig store with my parents. It was so fun. I genuinely had such a good time trying on wigs of different colors and lengths. I didn’t hate myself as a blonde, either. The worst part was the in-between wig trying. Staring at myself.

Before cancer, I struggled with body image. As many girls and women do, and men for that matter. I still do. So adding this losing-hair bit really makes it hard. I avoid mirrors. Today was the first day I let myself not wear my hat. I’ve worn hats to sleep. I purchased a wig that day, but I don’t know how to put it on. It makes me cry. I feel so fake.

But I don’t want to relive that. It’s just, body image is something everyone struggles with. Cancer patients, moms, dads, your neighbor, probably your grandma. In some way, shape or form. I mean if you don’t, swag on you; please spread the wisdom in self-love. But if not, we can get through it. I don’t know. I’m not a self-image, body-image spokesperson. This is just my experience.

I’ve been talking to my friend who is also a freshman in college, and she just told me a story about how her friend called her a slut for seeing a few guys throughout the year.

That makes me SO MAD. To demean my friend is to demean all women. Being sexual does not make you a slut. Ugh, I hate that word. It’s so dirty and old. It is such a 19th century way of thinking, in my opinion. And when women call other women sluts? I can’t. I cannot even. Why would you put another woman down for her decisions in her own sex life? Or at all?? I think we women should stick together. Unless, for example, good ol’ Sally murdered someone. That is when we can rat on Sally and perhaps question her decision making. Won’t hear me calling her a slut, though.

That was a nice rant. Don’t you ever just enjoy a good old fashioned rant? Sometimes people rant in the form of music. Replaying the same playlist until you feel something is out of your system, or something better replaced it. Or drawing until the source of the rant is out.

Rants are kind of beautiful.

I envy those who can rant endlessly. How do thoughts form that quickly and articulately? That’s why I wanna vote for Trump!

Ha. Just kidding. Let’s leave politics alone.

I just took a shower and a lot of my motivation went away. I have noticed my eyebrows thinning. But I saw an eyelash or two fall out in the shower. I was singing away noticing the weird faces in the tiled shower and on my hand were my eyelashes. I was having such a good day and now I’m hysterically crying. I do not want my eyelashes to go. I love them. It sounds so superficial but I love them they are my favorite part of me. I don’t know what to do. I know there’s makeup and fake eyelashes and what not. I couldn’t tell you the last time I wore makeup, and fake eyelashes make me feel just that. Fake. They are beautiful on others and I admire those who even know how to put them on. But I can’t have the same feeling I do with wigs. I just can’t.

I’m hoping for a better end to this post and to this night.

I really don’t want to lose my eyelashes. I want this to be over.

I don’t know who to go to with this. I know I’m not the only human to have cancer and that I have the world’s greatest support system known to man.

It is just hard to lean on someone with something like this.

It went from bad to worse. I have never cried as much as I have tonight. I have nothing else I can write. Tonight was terrible. Absolutely terrible. I took an eyelash falling out of my eye to a girl being a bad friend to how I cannot possibly have cancer. I have never felt so incredibly lost and confused. I want someone to blame and there is no one. I hate how I handling everythng. In this moment, I really hate myself. I can’t even find a joke in here. I am looking for ways to feel better by myself. I can’t have people around me. I make myself more upset than I need to be. I feel scared and alone.

I hate cancer.

I reread this post. How do we lose positivity so fast?

I am not sure if I hate myself or cancer more in this moment.

Day 10 of Treatment: My Roommate is Watching Dora

April 8, 2016

I currently sit in the hospital listening to my roommate listen to Dora. I think it is Dora. The volume is so high I cannot make out any words, just excited exclamations. I believe my roommate is Albanian, so she has this cute little accent, but unfortunately I cannot call watching Dora at full blast at 9 AM cute.

Casey?? Why are you in the hospital??? You finished your chemo for the first cycle on Day 8!!

Well, I’m really glad you inquired! Let me tell you! So Wednesday night, after posting my last blog, I dilly dallied for a little while then went to sleep. My body did not think that was a fun idea, so I woke up various times throughout the night with a pounding headache and the occasional feeling of nausea. Eventually, around 8:30/9:00 Thursday morning, I woke up with one of the worst headaches I have ever endured. I went to the bathroom, climbed back into bed, (hoping maybe I just needed some more sleep) and soon realized I needed to tell my mom. I called her name, which was painful in itself, and became lightheaded. And not one of those “Oops, gee! I got up a bit too fast. My head feels funny!” kind of lightheaded, but the overpowering kind where you’re not sure if you’re about to collapse or not. My mom rushed for the thermometer, which showed my temperature to be 101 point something. (I cannot recall.) She called me dad immediately to come back from work (which is two blocks away) and called the hospital to let them know we are coming. I began crying, nervous as hell and feeling like crap. If someone were looking in at us, I think we looked like quite the disaster. Eventually, we got out the door and were on our way to the hospital.

Car rides are not pleasant when you are nauseous. Car rides are more tolerable when you roll down the window to pacify your nausea. I did not throw up in that Uber ride, I did not. Feel free to applaud. A standing ovation will also suffice. Please don’t throw flowers, I am fragile.

I felt like a zombie making my way up the escalators (I happen to have a slight fear of escalators—an issue I feel no need to delve into.)

Day 13 of Treatment: Hair

April 11th, 2016

I never finished that last post because I had no time/wasn’t feeling up to it/didn’t want to. So, to give you the spark notes (or shmoop, if you’re into that) version of what went down, here it goes.

Being in the hospital Thursday was the worst. They told me I had to stay there until my white blood cell count went up, which could take as long as a week. That coming Saturday, however, I was supposed to meet David’s family and the following day was David’s birthday, so I instantly felt terrible. But putting how guilty I felt about not being able to have dinner with David and his family aside, I was so frustrated that I was in the hospital at all.

It’s not uncommon to have a fever on Day 9. That is what the doctors, nurses and my parents have told me. But I felt like everything that could go wrong, was going wrong. When my nurses accessed my port, they were able to inject fluids but weren’t able to draw back any blood. My port is “positional” so this involved having me move in a variety of ways for them to get any blood. They got some, but not enough, so they said they may need to try an IV. I hate needles.

I know it doesn’t sound like a huge deal, that I would have to maybe get an IV. But to me, I was already in the hospital, the port hadn’t been letting blood through, my weekend plans were ruined, so I was fed up. And I just cried. I lost it. When the nurse said IV, I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. My parents told me to take a deep breath, that the IV may not be necessary, but I couldn’t.

This is the first moment that I’ve felt completely hopeless. I know that the chemo will cure me and that I’ll survive. The words “I want to die” slipped out of my mouth before I realized what I said. I didn’t mean it, but I said it. I was so uncomfortable in my own body and frustrated with the lack of answers to my many existential questions that comes with an arbitrary cancer.

I eventually calmed down when they were able to get blood using my port, meaning there would be no IV. The rest of my stay in the hospital was pretty tame. My counts went up Friday night and I got discharged Saturday afternoon, so my weekend plans were still intact!

I met David’s family Saturday night, celebrated his birthday Sunday, and now it is Monday and I am here.

I am here and I am freaking out.

My hair is shedding.

I see it all over my pillow. I see it on my clothes. If I run my fingers through my hair, strands fall out on my hand. It makes me lightheaded. I don’t want to lose my hair. And the worst part is, there is nothing anyone can do or say to make it stop. It’s happening. It is happening as I write. I am afraid to touch my head.

Today I am going shopping with my mom for scarves and hats. I don’t want to, but I have to.

I just brushed my hair and began hysterically crying. I ran the brush through my hair and looked at how many strands came off. This is so unfair. It’s unfair that I have to have cancer and it’s unfair that while I take drugs that make me feel like shit I also will hate the way I look. A month ago I was insecure with how I looked and that was without the additional baldness. I feel so out of control. I can’t handle this. This is too much. I don’t want to lose my hair and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

While scarf shopping, I cried. It seems that’s all I can do. I cried and I’m still crying. I don’t know what to do with myself. It is such a gorgeous day, and I am in bed writing and feeling bad for myself. I hate this.

I can see my parents struggling with how to deal with this. They can’t make it better. No one can. It is just inevitable that I lose my hair.

I’m supposed to see David tonight, but I’m worried I am going to shed all over him. I feel so ugly. I asked him if he would still like me when I’m bald. He promised he would.

Today my mom told me that this is the hardest part. When I was meeting with doctors solely to discuss chemo before I began, they said that was the hardest part. When it was my first week of chemo, I was told that was the hardest part. Clearly, everything is the hardest part. I want this to be over.

I’m watching New Girl to distract myself. I feel gross for complaining and yet I can’t seem to stop myself.

Side effects are making my life really frustrating. My back is constantly pulsing with pain. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but I feel it captures the aching sensation I feel. My scalp is so sensitive.

I’m thinking that maybe if I begin to dress better I’ll feel better. Sometimes in high school when I had a really difficult test I would put more effort into what I wore just because it made me more confident. My mom said we can go shopping. I’m afraid to shop because I don’t want to look in the mirror, hate how I look and cry. Perhaps online shopping is the answer.

I also wonder if I should just cut my hair shorter so I don’t see the gradual removal of it. I’m so scared and anxious all the time.

I didn’t see Cowboy Bob while in the hospital, by the way. I’m not sure if this is a disappointment or a relief. He rattles my brain. However, Fridays at the hospital are super special because there is a three-shelf candy cart that visits each room, and you can take as much as you want. I didn’t partake, but I can see why it is so exciting.

It still doesn’t feel real to me. For some reason, I thought I would be an exception to the losing hair part of chemo. I make jokes about it all the time. A part of me was in denial, I guess.

I wish someone could tell me why I have cancer. There are no answers to any questions I ask. I’m trying to be strong. I am.

I am going to try to do Zumba three times a week. Zumba makes me feel strong and sexy, something my hair loss is taking away from me. I am nervous that when I have no hair people are going to stare at me and pity me and I’ll feel self conscious. I know that will happen. Maybe not at the gym, but on the streets. It’s unavoidable. I want to feel beautiful.

When I put my hand on my heart I feel my port.

On this day one month ago, I went to class, I went on a date, and I got a

boyfriend. Classic.

I have begun answering people on Facebook who have reached out about my blog and it is making me feel much better. The feeling of purpose is finding its way back into my system. I’m going to shower soon and then make milkshakes with David. That sounds like a euphemism but it is not. Or maybe it didn’t and I am just perverted. That’s not a ridiculous possibility.

Showering is giving me anxiety because I know my hair will fall out in the shower. I just gotta do it. Just do it. Nike. Nice.

I need to pee but I don’t want to get up.

I can’t sleep with socks on. I wonder if this is just me or if many people feel this way. Socks are great but not under blankets.

I am getting really excited to make milkshakes. Last night, I surprised David at his birthday party because I initially wasn’t going to go. (Party = people = germs = parents being nervous) My parents let me go for an hour and it was totally worth it. I love making people smile, especially on their birthdays. I think I’ve said this before. Well, I’m saying it again dammit.

Earlier today, my mom and I were playing Scrabble (I’m huge on board games. Games in general, really. This is an important fact. HUGE.) and she was eating grapes. I can only have fruits that have a peel, but I forgot that rule. So I asked for a grape, and my mom told me, sadly, that I couldn’t. I felt so stupid for forgetting. She immediately said she didn’t have to eat them in front of me. And I said she could, it wasn’t that. But she didn’t listen and put the grapes back in the fridge. I felt terrible. I don’t want to be a burden. I know she doesn’t think I am. That situation made it feel as though I was.

I just showered. I asked my mom to sit on the toilet so I could talk to someone through the curtain. I didn’t want to be alone. A lot of hair came out so my mom suggested that she brush my hair instead of doing it myself. I get really worked up at the sight of a full hairbrush.

Just made milkshakes with David. We went out to get the ingredients and it was so nice to be walking in New York City at night in pleasant weather. It just felt freeing. Then David made us both milkshakes, which was a hilarious spectacle. They ended up delicious, but the process was too funny. I’m already in a better mood. A little weirded out because my dad and David keep singing The Lion Sleeps Tonight together, but it could be worse.

Now I’m going to research some stuff about sanitation in New York City because I’m allowed to go to class tomorrow, and one of my classes calls for knowledge on the subject. Casey, that makes no sense! You’re studying acting! Why would you need to study sanitation!? Well, I could explain it to you but quite honestly I have no idea how to put into words why I must research this.

In the jungle the mighty jungle the lion sleeps toniiiiiiiiight. Ahoooooooooooo.

*I still don’t understand formatting. It is what it is, man.

Day 8 of Treatment: Back to the Chemo

April 6, 2016

I showered by myself this morning. I showered by myself this morning.

I say this twice to emphasize how truly exciting this is.

Originally, I asked my mom to help me, (I was so nervous as I haven’t showered by myself in quite some time) and she graciously agreed. But once I was in the shower, it was clear I could do it.

And I did.

I stood there with a stupidly happy smile on my face under the soft, warm water. I stood there for a stupidly long time. My new short hair felt light and slick on my neck. (If you have ever seen pictures of models with the super slicked back hair walking down the runway, I like to imagine I looked that way.) And after it seemed I had spent a sufficient amount of time doing nothing but letting the water pour onto me mid-smile, I began to sing.

I haven’t sung in the shower in so long. I couldn’t. Not with my mom there. Even though she says she loves to hear me sing, I can’t quite rap The Real Slim Shady as mother dearest shampoos my hair with the same gusto I would alone.

But I saaaaaaang my heart out. I sang a bunch of songs that make no sense being sung together. I began with Fight Song, because what other song is a girl with cancer to sing as she showers by herself for the first time in a long time? (I am a walking cliche.) It quickly became Jason Mraz’s (Mraz’? Mrazes? Help.) I’m Yours, which then altered into some Legally Blonde and then some Adam Lambert and there was definitely some Beyoncé in there. Who knows. I was showering and singing, and honestly, I felt on top of the world. Because I showered by myself. Hahahahahahaha. Kids these days.

It wasn’t all fun and games, though. I’ve recently noticed, not just in the shower, that every part of me has become incredibly sensitive. My leg muscles feel tender at slight wrong movement. My back becomes achy from sitting the wrong way for only a little while. And then there’s my scalp.

I don’t know if I’m being paranoid, which can easily be the case, but I feel as though my scalp is extremely fragile. I am afraid to touch my head. My dad ruffles my hair sometimes, which is one of my favorite things he does. It calms me down. But now, when he grazes my hair for even a moment, I feel my entire body get tense. I know I am going to lose my hair. I have come to terms with that, I know it is inevitable. I just can’t take the waiting, the not knowing how it is going to happen. Today in the shower I took an insane amount of time to shampoo my hair with the utmost of delicacy, looking at the floor of the shower and my hands every five seconds to ensure my hair follicles were holding on to its strands. I can feel my fingers shake each time I go to touch the back of my head. I am scared it will fall out and someone will see, and I will be oblivious to the whole thing.

It’s time to leave for the hospital, for my last day of Chemo in the first cycle. Exciting! Kind of. It won’t be that bad. The actual chemo is not that bad. My parents are packing a bunch of things that can keep me busy while I am doing chemo, and I think Sinclair may visit me at the hospital, too.

It ended up being a super short trip for Chemo. I guess the last day of chemo for the cycle is the shortest. We got there and went straight to the IV room, where I waited to be called in to get my port accessed. I fell asleep in the waiting room for a hot second, and then heard my name. The nurse seemed nice enough; her name was Sam. That isn’t why she seemed nice enough, those are two irrelevant facts about Sam the Nurse. She accessed my port and it hurt. It hurt more than the second time but not as much as the first. Apparently, I have a “positional port”, something common in women because of breast tissue and what not. Basically, I just have to position myself a certain way when they access my port and I need a longer needle. Huzzah for needles. Huzzah for uncomfortable positioning. I became super lightheaded, and then I became super embarrassed for reacting so childishly. I know, I know. Don’t be ashamed of how you feel. But I just felt silly. I ate some pretzels and had some water, and I was feeling better. But just the fact that I couldn’t sit there and take it made me annoyed. But it is what it is, or it was what it was. Whichever.

We met with one of the doctors on my team, and discussed all of the different side effects I had experienced since my last chemo. Dr. Kateri (Nurse Kateri? I genuinely cannot keep track of the titles of the important people I meet) told me everything I am feeling is totally common and normal for the drugs I am taking. She also informed me I am officially “neutropenic” (a word I terribly misspelled earlier in my blogging) which is an abnormally low level of neutrophils. Neutrophils are a common type of white blood cell important to fighting off infections — particularly those caused by bacteria. (Thank you, mayoclinic.org, but missing you cancer.org.) I am, to quote Kateri, “severely neutropenic” because of the number I am at, but I have no idea what number that is. So basically, I can’t go out for the next week unless it is to the hospital. Anyone that sees me has to be super healthy and must wash their hands like 237429347 times a day. I’m not allowed to hug anyone or touch anyone, really.

You know when you’re told you can’t do something and then you really want to do it more? Like before, when I was told I couldn’t pee, I suddenly had to pee. Or when you’re told you can’t have that last cookie in the jar, and then it becomes your one, inherent desire to devour that chocolate chip masterpiece? To be told I virtually cannot have physical contact with anyone made me feel as though I wanted some form of physical contact with everyone. I felt tears form behind my eyes. I wouldn’t be able to hug any of my friends? I’m such a hugger. And it’s only for a week, fine. But when I am crying and I desperately want to hug my boyfriend, and can’t, I don’t know how that will feel. But we went on with the conversation about side effects, and we didn’t really touch (haha) more on it.

Kateri also told me she could see a visual change in my neck. I think this is the first time I have felt what real optimistic hope is. I know that sounds ridiculous because obviously I have hoped, and it has been optimistic, but I think I felt my heart leap when she said one of my lymph nodes was clearly smaller than it had been only a week ago. I also saw my parents exchange a glance of positivity. My shower smile returned to my face.

I went back to the IV room to get my chemo drug. Only one for the day. And it took ten minutes. I got de-accessed, which is my favorite part: so painless and symbolizes the end of the day. And then I was free to go.

I went home, and had to take off everything but my bra and underwear before walking into the center of the apartment. No hospital clothes. Sterile. Clean. Neutropenic.

My mom made me lunch, I’m not allowed to have anything that isn’t packaged, homemade or from the outside world (restaurants and what not). It was delicious. I then passed out.

My dad woke me up informing me that David and Jeff, my friend from school and also one of David’s best friends, were here. Excited, I jumped out of bed and came over to say hello. I couldn’t hug them hello. This changed my mood.

I wish I didn’t care so much. It’s just a hug and I can still talk to them and I don’t know. I couldn’t even do a fist bump. The entire hour of them being here just felt weird to me. I was awkward and I knew it. I was letting this physical contact thing make me feel alone, and I blatantly wasn’t. I was not alone. I had my best friend and Jeff right there, both who visited from campus to see me. Both who took a subway to check in on me during their busy day of rehearsals. And I was so caught up in the hug thing that it completely changed me.

I’m trying not to judge myself for what I feel. I just wish I could turn back time to an hour ago and be more me, and less Casey thinking about how she is limited in her freedom.

They just left and I’m trying to decide if I want to see anyone else tonight. It’s not like I spend my time hugging everyone I just hate feeling like I can’t.

My dad just asked me if I was okay. I said yeah but I really don’t feel like I am. We are watching Date Night with Steve Carrell and Tina Fey. Classic.

People keep wanting to check in and FaceTime and it is so sweet and generous and I still feel like screaming. These could be side effects from the Prednisone, the pills that heighten and intensify my emotions. I don’t have to take again until my second cycle, so the side effects should subside, but they supposedly last a few days after stopping it.

I feel myself wanting to cry and not letting myself. My parents are right there and if I start crying, I’ll have to talk about why and I don’t know if I can handle that. I hate feeling this emotional. I hate cancer. I hate it.

I’m trying to remember how amazing my shower was this morning and now it just makes me sad. What the hell are emotions. I’m going to blame this on the pills because it is easier than blaming it on anything else.

David and I spoke on the phone for a while which made me feel much better about how weird I was acting before. Also, I FaceTimed with one of my best friends from high school, Robbie, (honestly, good luck to y’all on remembering these names. The way you probably feel about remembering these names is the way I feel about remembering the names of my nurses and doctors, so I feel you. Except I should really get on that.)  Robbie and I spent a good amount of time making incredibly inappropriate cancer jokes, and he just made me feel so much better. We are for sure pre-booked on a one-way trip to hell, but it was a great distraction and it felt so good to laugh at everything happening.

Dinner is soon. My mom is making steak and potatoes, my absolute favorite. The vibes of the house feel really weird right now. My mom came in earlier to ask if I wanted dinner soon, and her demeanor just felt off. A bit somber. It’s like her daughter has cancer or something. Luckily I was mid-FaceTime with Robbie so I couldn’t dwell on it, but I could also be overthinking and honestly, probably projecting. My dad came in, also mid-FaceTime, to take my temperature as he often does at random times. He wasn’t his silly self, also making me believe something traumatic is happening in his life to justify such behavior. The audacity.

Now taking Miralax because apparently the chemo drug I took today increases chances of constipation!! Oh, how I love the sharing of the internet. For those of you who don’t know me, you just got to know me. And for those of you who do, you just got to know me a whole lot better. ;).

I don’t know if it is illegal to talk about a blog on a blog, the way you can’t talk about fight club. (I’ve never seen that movie so I feel phony making a reference but I did it anyway, it is too late, what’s done is done.) (Also using the word phony makes me think of Holden Caulfield. Shoutout to Catcher in the Rye.) Ever since I put up my first post, I’ve felt much less shitty. I feel like I have a purpose, rather than letting the cancer consume me. My friend even just sent my blog to her professor, and he teaches oceanography, which is just so irrelevant to what I am writing about. People I don’t know have been reaching out to me. And it was so fucking amazing to be getting messages (that I am still trying to respond to, I swear it’ll happen, I am so slow) about how I am helping someone in some way in some fashion. And that’s genuinely all I want. It’s what I want as an actor, it’s what I want as a blogger, and it’s what I want as a person. To help. It feels so, so amazing to help. Which is so cheesy and gross and corny, but it is also the truth, so I don’t know what to tell you.

I do not religiously watch American Idol, however I have been casually following it this season as I am only very incredibly in love with one of the contestants, Dalton. I advise looking up his performances and melting, as I do on a basis that I will keep to myself. Judy darling, my mother, turned on the television to catch his performance. We instead found Ryan Seacrest sending him on his way home out of the top three. I have some not so nice words for America. But I feel like no one watches this show anymore. So do I really? I am torn. Sigh.

I think I will end my blogging for the night. I have had some Hershey Kisses (that is my go-to snack.) I want to be as honest as I can here, and not sugarcoat anything. (The chocolate made me think of this.) Hence my cute sharing about constipation. Cancer is not pretty, I am learning that quickly. And I’m not going to pretend that it is. I don’t know what else to say. My friend Evan says when he has nothing to say he says nothing. I am not one of those people. I am a rambling woman. But, I am a tired rambling woman who needs to take her pills and go the heck to sleep. I don’t know why I said heck, I am quite the explicit speaker. Fuck to sleep. Better. Goodnight, Internet. Sweet dreams. I need to stop writing. I miss Dalton. Why, America? Why?

*I apologize for formatting. I am learning how blogs work. I am a failure of a millennial I tell you.

Things that happened Friday, March 11th: I went to class, I went on a date, and I got a
boyfriend.
Things that happened Saturday, March 12th: I got a pedicure, I got a bikini wax, and I found out I had cancer.
It happened in that order, in a John-Green-only-writes-this-shit kind of order. It sounds so made up and blunt, and just writing it makes me cringe, but it happened that way. On the bright side, I was hairless for the doctors and my toes were looking dope.
For the past couple of months, I had felt a weird swelling in my neck. It began in
January, and I noticed it when my teacher put her hands on my neck (she wasn’t being
aggressive, she’s a voice teacher, and it was very gentle, I swear) and asked me if I had a cold. When I said no, she pointed out that it felt like either my lymph nodes were very swollen or I had some major knots in my neck. And since my throat was clear and my nose wasn’t running, I assumed it had to be the latter. So I went on with my life. I got a virus sometime in February, which brought me to my university’s health center, an event that let me take the opportunity of asking a doctor about my swollen neck. I was consoled with the information that it wasn’t swollen lymph nodes, it was probably just muscle tension or knots. So life was rocking; I got a nice Z-pak and I was all better.
And when I say life was rocking, I mean it. School was the best it had ever been. I felt like I was really understanding my acting training, more than I had in the past, and I was meeting new, amazing people. I was (kind of) seeing a guy I really liked, and I was on top of my work in all my classes.
Which brings us to Friday, March 11th. I slept through my alarm that was meant to get
me to my 8:30 AM class. It was one of those times you really did hear the sound of your phone annoying you to get up, but part of you just didn’t care enough to physically oblige. It isn’t like me to miss class, I love my classes almost too much. (I’m a nerd, I’m down with it.) I didn’t beat myself up about sleeping in—everyone has those mornings. I got myself to my next class on time and with a smile, I was ready to begin my day. I had an amazing day of classes, so when my required classes were done by 2:30, it felt like five minutes had gone by. All I had left was an optional class at 5:00, which I was of course going to, because if I haven’t mentioned: I love class. A lot. Like so much. So. Much. And how can I not? I am studying to be an actress at NYU Tisch School of the Arts. I have it made, as they say.
March 11th also happened to have been a beautiful day in New York City. One of those
days where the already adorable dogs seem cuter and the city simultaneously decides to wear only dresses and shorts. So I wasn’t upset when I had a frozen yogurt date during the break between classes.
This part is about to get a little romantic, so if you’re anything like me where you want to
vomit and cringe at romance, skip ahead!!!!!!
We walked holding hands (how gross) in the streets of New York City and sat down for
frozen yogurt. We talked and ate, and it felt so natural and easy. So natural and easy, in fact, that I almost didn’t hear when he introduced the idea of us being boyfriend and girlfriend. (Vomit. I know.) I genuinely didn’t know what to say—so I didn’t. I left with an I don’t know. Because I didn’t.
Regardless, we walked back to our next class, hand in hand, (so, so gross) and had our
next class. I was leaving to go home for spring break that night, so I bid the boy adieu but I told him I would come say goodbye before I left for Penn Station.
Then, I grabbed dinner and ice cream (#springbreakbikinibod) with a pal, Evan. As we were returning to the dorm, I impulsively decided to say goodbye to my date from earlier and answer his question. I made my way to his dorm room and walked in without knocking because I apparently lack the quality of respect for privacy. I awkwardly made my way to saying I would very much like to be his girlfriend, and then I rushed to Penn Station with my best friend, Kristina, who was joining me on vacation, for a train we ended up missing anyway.
Eventually, Kristina and I arrived at my home. My mom picked us up at the train station, where she mentioned my brother already being asleep in his room. This was the first I was hearing of my brother being home. And normally, this would be an average thing to discover en route to my house, but I actually hadn’t spoken to him since mid-January. We were not on good terms. I didn’t take the news that he was present in our home well, either. My body reacted with instant tears. My brother and my’s lack of communication was something I thought about a lot. I ended up getting into an emotional fight with my mom, crying myself to sleep, and fearing what family dinner would be like Saturday night.
Saturday, March 12th. Woke up and successfully avoided running into my brother. My mom and I seemed to have forgotten our fight from the previous night, (that rhymed) and she took Kristina and I shopping. Kristina got an outfit for her 21st birthday that we’d be celebrating in Florida, I got a bodysuit/shorts type of garment, and my mom even treated herself to some new pants. After that, we all waxed where we needed to be waxed (some things are better left private) and got manicures and pedicures. We had to rush home because my parents had an appointment, but we were feeling South Beach-ready.
Not long after Kristina and I were settled back home and beginning to pack, my dad came in to remind us that they had an appointment. (Which of course we remembered.) For some reason, and there are people in this world that might call this fate, I took this window of opportunity to suggest to my father that I get a neck massage. With this, he looked at my neck with suspicion and recommended we go to Urgent Care after his appointment. He wasn’t majorly concerned, just wanted to be safe before I flew to Florida the next morning. And I agreed; there was no harm in getting it looked at. Maybe we could get antibiotics to reduce the swelling.
With that peace of mind, Kristina and I decided to nap. It was a lovely nap, the kind where your mind is awake but your body is getting the rest it needs. My father peered his head in the crack of my bedroom window. He asked if I was still interested in going to Urgent Care. My body wasn’t thrilled at the idea, but I felt myself say I was ready to go. I told Kristina I’d see her later, although she was half asleep, and my father and I were on our way.
We sat in the car as we often do, talking about nothing and everything all at once. He had me search for Urgent Care’s hours, to be sure we would make it on time. It was about 5:20, Urgent Care closed at 6:00. We were doubtful.
After driving into the wrong parking lot, (real smooth, Dad) and finally pulling into the correct area, the two of us walked into Urgent Care. I filled out some forms and we were told to sit and wait. The form process was a new thing for me, being 18 and all. I am used to my parents taking care of everything with doctors and what not. But once the seven in the second digit place turns to eight, the law says I am in charge. And for those of you who know me, you can imagine how scary that is. And for those of you who don’t, I give you permission to imagine how scary that is.
After playing an uncomfortable game of who-can-hold-eye-contact-longer with the little girl two seats away from me, my dad and I were led into an examination room. Now would be a good time to state that I am not, nor have I ever been, good with a) doctors, b) needles or c) anything related to the two. So naturally, I sat on the examination table just delighted to be there. A woman with a heavy accent came in to “do my vitals”. (****Fun drinking game: each time I say vitals, take a shot.) What does it mean to do your vitals, some of you (if you’re anything like me) may be wondering? Well, call me Casey Landman, M.D. By definition, vitals are the organs of the body (such as the heart, lungs, and liver) that are needed in order to keep living. And according to my extensive research (one sentence into google) to do one’s vitals is also called taking vital signs, which are “clinical measurements, specifically pulse rate, temperature, respiration rate, and blood pressure, that indicate the state of a patient’s essential body functions.”
Since your eyes glazed over during that portion of my writing, let me describe in my words how it is when your vitals are taken. A person (who I am never sure if they are a nurse, doctor, human, or foreign celebrity) comes in with a machine on wheels. He or she will ask you to hold out your arm and will velcro a blue band around your upper arm in order to take your blood pressure. He or she will nine out of ten times warn you that it may feel a little tight around your arm, but will promise that it will be over soon. I swear I can hear the blood pump through my veins each time this part occurs. It always makes me tense. They will then put your finger in a rubbery device that I cannot tell you the purpose of. Although I would guess pulse rate. They will also take your temperature using a thermometer that must be beneath your tongue and still ask you questions as though you can answer them. Such fun vitals are. Now that we are caught up on vitals, we may move on.
And so, this woman with a heavy accent came in to take my vitals. After that, she asked me a few questions. Why am I here? I explained about my neck. What medicine am I on? Any allergies? Penicillin. And so on. Post medical interrogation, she asked me why I hadn’t gone to get a cat scan. My dad and I exchanged a puzzled glance. A cat scan? My dad was quick to shoot this down. Why would I get a cat scan? But the woman pursed her lips and insisted that that is what we should have done. And while my stomach knotted with nerves, I saw my dad see me inwardly freak out. Which caused him to roll his eyes at this woman’s clear obliviousness to what protocol for this neck situation was. This comforted me. Because both my father and I are professional doctors who studied pre-med at Harvard. So really, who did this woman taking my vitals (you should be significantly buzzed by now) think she was?
Finally the doctor came in. She asked me virtually the same exact questions as the woman before, but this time got physical. She felt my neck, asking if it hurt where the swelling was. And to the touch, I felt discomfort. I shared this with her, and she nodded while pulling out her stethoscope. I took deep breaths (something my acting training has made into being incredibly natural) and awaited her recommendations.
She asked for clarification that I was leaving the next morning for Florida. I nodded, feeling tears prickling at my eyes. She nodded somberly and said, “I would go to the ER to get a cat scan.” “Tonight?” My dad asked. “Yes,” the doctor replied.
By now, I was full on crying. The doctor left the room to get some sheet of paper that we would need, and my dad grabbed my hand. He assured me I would be okay. Everything would be fine. I would be fine. I asked my dad, in all my paranoid glory, if it could be cancerous. He waved that away with such confidence, a part of my heart felt better. (But we know how this story goes.)
My dad, being the honorary boy scout that he is, thought of the brilliant idea of calling one of our family friends that worked at the nearest hospital in hopes that we could get seen faster. After all, I hadn’t finished packing for Florida! Time was a wastin’. My dad reached our friend five minutes before his plane was going to take off for Utah. Our friend told my dad before take off that he would call the hospital immediately in order to expedite my ER process. Again, we can call this fate. I definitely like to.
The doctor returned with paper of debatable importance and sat down at her computer. I asked her the same question I asked my father: could this be cancerous? She told me the cat scan would answer all my questions, which was not exactly the response I wanted. But, alas, through my waterfall of tears, my dad and I got up and headed to the car, off to see the oracle that they called a cat scan.
The car ride to the hospital is a blur. Here are the facts I know about the 10 minute ride to the ER:
1. This is the time period I realized I would need an IV for the first time in my life. (Needles. Cool.)
2. My phone was at 7%. (I’m a millennial. Sue me.)
3. I could not see through my tears at all. My vision was 100% blur.
4. My mom called to ensure she was meeting us at the right hospital.
And before I knew it, we were in one of the many parking garages of the hospital underground. My dad and I held hands into the elevator, all the way through the Casey Pavillon (that is a legitimate name of one of the hospital sections. My dad wanted to take a picture.) and to the waiting room of the ER. (There was a charging station for your cell phones here. My priorities were straight.)
My dad and I filled out a quick form and took our seats. It was maybe 6:30, and already I was bored of the filling-out-forms game. My mom walked in frantically and gave me a hug, something that never fails to make me cry more.
Not long after, we were moved into a smaller room with a nurse prepared to take my vitals. She gave me words of pity and comfort as she watched my tear stained cheeks continue to be drowned in tears. She wrapped a fun yellow wristband around my right wrist and sent me into the chaotic world we call the Emergency Room.
It’s funny, really, that we call it the Emergency Room. For a place devoted to emergencies, it moves at the pace of a place devoted to watching paint dry. I waited there for a while and then they put my IV in. I cried so hard, and I squeezed my mom’s hand. The entire time, the nurse named George kept telling me to relax and not to cry. Because it always a good idea to tell a person in distress to relax. Good plan, George. Good plan. They also took my blood. I was the happiest of campers.
Once the IV was in, my tears did not stop, nor did the waiting. No one really would tell me what was going on. My parents sat next to me and I told them about my day with my new boyfriend to distract myself. My dad was on his phone, I think his little girl being in the hospital talking about boys was a bit too much. Topics changed and my mom kept calling my brother and Kristina to make sure they were alright at home, keeping them as updated as possible, but I was still scared.
George the nurse came back and rambled off some things that could cause the weird swollen lymph node, possibly mono.
My heart sunk.
No.
I. Could. Not. Have. Mono. Poor David!!!! (My boyfriend of one day, not even.) I would feel so incredibly terrible if I had to deliver the news to him that he could potentially have mono. That made me cry even harder. He had dated me for a second and now this? Ugh. It can’t be mono.
After a really long time of waiting, crying and desperately trying to distract ourselves, it was time for my cat scan. They told me it would be short in duration but they would need to inject me with fluids for an IV contrast. Which, essentially, would make my insides light up so they could see what was going on inside of me. And a cat scan is just a very special X-ray machine that looks like a donut with a tongue.
A man named Tim wheeled me on my ER bed over to the cat scan area. He was very cute. (Dramatic events do not blind me from the obvious.) My mom asked if she could come in with me, but that wasn’t permitted. My parents told me they would be right outside the door when I was done. I couldn’t stop crying.
The man in charge of the cat scan was very kind. He explained to me that I may feel a taste in my mouth once they inject the IV contrast, and that my body might feel warm all over. He said I may feel those effects, but I also may not. I cried more, (shocker, I know) I was just freaked out by everything going on around me. It was all so overwhelming. I felt like the white walls were drowning me and my head against the hospital pillow was shrinking.
He helped me onto the cat scan’s motorized platform and told me where to put my arms and legs. Don’t move, he told me several times. If you move, he warned me, we have to do this all over again. Close your eyes and it’ll be over soon.
I kept my eyes open. I was too scared of the unknown to create a bigger unknown. I listened to the sound of the cat scan machine and waited anxiously to feel side effects. My waist down became very warm, and made me feel like I had to pee. It almost made me laugh. My mouth tasted like Purell, the same taste I get when the doctors flush my IV with Saline.
It took five minutes, like he said it would, and Tim the hot ER bed driver returned me to my corner in the main ER room. I was proud of myself, the worst was over. Or so I thought.
No one tells you how terrible it is to wait.
To wait without a time to stop waiting.
To wait without knowing what exactly you will get once you’re done waiting.
More waiting. Lots and lots of waiting.
Was I still going to Florida tomorrow?
Waiting for cat scan results.
George told us it wasn’t mono. What a fucking relief.
Waiting.
Waiting.
We had nothing but time, so my dad went home to check on Kristina and Josh, my brother, and to grab chargers or snacks. Whatever we needed to pass this eternal waiting.
My dad was gone for a good amount of time, and the waiting was in full pause. I kept asking where he was, sometimes a girl just needs her dad’s presence along with her mother’s to be safe.
George the nurse went home for the night. He gave me an awkward goodbye and wished me luck. A doctor from before appeared at my bedside with a clipboard.
The doctor was in scrubs. He had someone next to him. A lot of the following is a blur, so please bare with me.
“Your cat scan results came back, and they are abnormal. We suspect it is lymphoma.”
I asked what lymphoma was. I had no idea. My instinct was to look at my mom to see how she reacted, to know how I should react.
This was not my wisest decision.
My mom’s leg began aggressively shaking. “Can we wait for my husband to be here, please? He is on his way back. Can we wait, please?”
I began to cry.
My dad came back I don’t know how soon after, and the doctor, my parents, and one of the very kind nurses all talked in a corner out of ear shot. I watched my mom turn her tear stained face away and my dad protectively place his arm around her shoulder. I texted my friends not sure what was going on. I looked up the word lymphoma. I put my phone away.
I didn’t know what was happening. I was just crying to cry, I didn’t even know anything. I wish I could articulate the state of not-knowingness and shock I was in. It didn’t even register to me that I could have cancer. That I probably had cancer.
I wanted someone to give me answers, but I wanted to know absolutely nothing. I wanted to go to Florida. I wanted Kristina to be able to fly home and not be stuck with this weird change of events. I wanted David to have a cancerless girlfriend. I wanted mono. I wanted to be able to go to school when spring break ended. I didn’t know anything. I didn’t want to know anything.
They admitted me to the hospital that night. I got my own room with a roommate named Christina. My best friend’s name. My parents stayed by my side. I wasn’t alone. I have never felt more alone.

The next week or so was exhausting and quite honestly, a time I do not want to relive. Kristina stayed in New York for spring break. I had various blood tests and had a biopsy. My brother and I were talking. He canceled his spring break trip to Europe to be with me. Some apologies don’t need words. I was discharged. David stayed the week of spring break along with Kristina. I gave him at least five outs of our relationship. He told me he signed up for all of me, even the scary stuff. I tried to accept that. I had a pet scan (where they couldn’t find the right vein for 293847294 tries, mind you) and found out my official results of having cancer and the staging of it. I met with a fertility doctor as an 18 year old girl. I heard all of the side effects of all the chemo. I met with many doctors and many nurses in many hospitals. I had my closest friends with me the entire time, some who flew out from as far as California to be with me. I cried so much. I laughed so much. I made so many inappropriate cancer jokes that I really should be locked away somewhere.

I’m writing this blog in hopes of helping someone. Someone with cancer, someone without. Someone loving someone with cancer, someone interested in cancer. Someone bored of doing their science homework and wanting some entertainment. I don’t know who I can help, or if I can help anyone. If I am going to go through this, with my family and friends, I want it to have as much purpose as it can. It is so personal and weird to be sharing everything, or almost everything, I am going through. But I want so badly to remember what happens, so things aren’t all a blur. And in the process, I want to help someone. Feel free to read on, or don’t. It’s also for me. It’s also to help me.

Day 1 of Treatment: Chemo – First Cycle
March 30, 2016
I was awoken at the pleasant hour of 6:00 am. It took me a moment to realize what kind of day I was waking up to. Ahh..my first day of chemo, that kind of day. I felt my mom whisper-ask me in my half-asleep state if I wanted to shower this morning. (I would need her help as it was incredibly difficult to shower with my three biopsies [two on my lower back and one on my neck] and two incisions on my left chest [from my center line])
Before I go on, I think it is important to explain what a center line is, as it will come up many times in the future. cancer.org states that [center lines] are used to put medicines, blood products, nutrients, or fluids right into your blood. They can also be used to take out blood for testing. There are also different types of center lines, but I use a port, one of the best center lines to use. (Hair flip)
So basically, my center line gave me an incision, referred to from now on as my port, that is a small drum made of plastic or metal with a thin tube going from the drum into a large vein. Ports are permanently placed under the skin of the chest or arm during surgery. (thanks cancer.org!)
But, no, thank you, I told my mom. I did not want to shower this morning because I did not want to feel helpless and childish as she scrubbed me down in the shower. As an 18 year old girl having her mother bathe her, there was not a shower that went by that I didn’t cry and apologize for having to make her do this. Even though deep down I knew she would do it for me no matter what, my humiliation was enough to blind me from that. But I just left it at no thank you instead of including all that reasoning.
I got myself out of bed after asking for “ten more minutes” (fifteen more minutes…twenty more minutes…etc) and got ready for the day. My mom put numbing cream over the area of skin covering my port, so when it got accessed (more description on that later) I wouldn’t feel the needle. She covered it with special tape, and that part of the preparation was done.
Then, my mom and my dad were packing bags filled with things that we can do if I get bored while doing chemo (I will sit there for hours) and I sat at my counter reading my phone in awe. So many people had begun to text me, Facebook message me, Instagram direct message me, (I’ll explain that one to you later grandma) and call me with words of good wishes and telling me I could do this. I was blown away. I couldn’t believe the amount of people, some of whom I hadn’t spoken to in years, who had heard about what was going on and were reaching out. I didn’t even know how to respond to any of them. And before I could, my parents were at the door and ready to go.
I began to cry. It’s just unfair, I said, guiltily knowing that sharing that information helped no one. I don’t want cancer. I told them that. I told my parents I didn’t want cancer, as though they didn’t already know that. As though they wouldn’t take it away if they could. But I told them I don’t want it. I felt my freshman year being taken away from me, even more so, a part of my life. And there are times where I am able to look at this experience in a more positive light, dare I say a learning experience, but not right now. Right now, it was unfair and I did not want to have cancer.
I could visibly see my dad’s heart melt and my mom’s do the same. They both rushed over to me, and my tears exploded even further. A heavy cry, a purposeless cry, the kind you do as a child when you don’t want to get into the bathtub. You cry and you cry and you know you’re going into battle, or into the tub, regardless.
Before I knew it, at 7:45 am, my parents and I were sitting in a chemo therapy room. The rooms are nice. They have a skylight and a TV, a bed, chairs for your visitors (my parents) and lots of machinery hooked up to the walls. My nurse, Jen, came in and asked me a bunch of questions that I’ve been asked one million point seven times before. Jen was really nice. She talked to me like a person not an infant, something I feared would happen in a pediatric hospital. She joked with my parents and was clear with what was going to be happening.
She told me she had to access my port. So, using my non scientific jargon, she will have to stick a mini needle into my skin covering my port. The needle is attached to a bunch of tubes that allow drugs to be injected and blood to be drawn. It’s essentially a live-in IV in my chest that I’ll keep in there until my treatment is over.
Frantically, I asked if I could take a painkiller and give it some time before we access the port, because the part of my chest where the port was placed was still incredibly sore. (the surgery had only happened that past Friday) This particular painkiller, Oxycodone, happens to make me very loopy and relaxed, so I mean I really couldn’t see the harm. She said of course, we never want you to be in pain. Although there was something or other about not relying on Oxycodone too much. But yeah yeah yeah, I could take it. And so I popped an Oxy and felt myself relax. I tried responding to people who had reached out on the phone but the more the painkiller hit, the sillier my texting abilities became. Also, a grown man dressed as a cowboy, who Jen the Nurse referred to as Cowboy Bob, came in to check my vitals. He did not speak. I was either super high on my painkiller or pediatric hospitals are freakier than I thought.
Eventually, Nurse Jen came back to access my port, for real this time. I had my mom hold my hand and I put on some music (I happen to be veeeeery proud of my “gettin rdy” playlist on Spotify #shamelessplug) Having the port being accessed hurt less than the first time it was accessed, (for my cat scan two days prior) but still wasn’t enjoyable. But once it was done, I was hooked up to Saline and my day was beginning. I asked if I would be starting the actual Chemo soon, and Jen told me probably not for a while.
By 12:00 noon, I was still hooked to saline, my labs had been taken (aka taking my blood) and I had met with many teams of nurses and doctors. Cowboy Bob had been in and out to collect my urine, still with no dialogue. I was very overwhelmed by the amount of people I had to respond to. I was beyond grateful for the amount of love and support I was getting from friends and family all over the country, but I was stressing myself out with getting back to them instantly. My Nurse told me I have no obligation to answer anyone, I have enough going on. Which on an intellectual level I understood, but morally felt unappreciative and wrong.
One of my best friends, Kristina, was my very first visitor at chemo! (I never know if I am supposed to capitalize that or not. Bare with me.) Unfortunately for her, her hour visit was 40 minutes of me sleeping and 20 minutes of me half sleeping. I thank my lucky stars to have met her. She’s basically a Landman now. I hadn’t started the actual chemotherapy yet, but having her there made me feel much more at ease.
Soon after she left, I got my first chemo drug. Brentuximab Vedotin. I call it Robitussin because I can’t pronounce the real name. I’m not really sure why. The nurse told me I should try not to go out to use the bathroom during this drug, so naturally I really had to go. She allowed it as long as she could accompany me so we had a nice field trip to the bathroom.
One of the scariest things about being treated for cancer in a pediatric hospital is seeing the children younger than me, smaller than me, balder than me. For all I know, they have it much worse than me. And here I am, crying before leaving for the hospital about how unfair having cancer is. But then, another part of my mind says: Casey, you are allowed to be upset. You have cancer. Even if the doctors says Hodgkins Lymphoma is the cancer to have if you are going to have cancer, it is cancer nevertheless. But the other part of my brain says to me, you could have it much worse. And this not-so-unfamiliar back and forth continues until I’m inside the safety of the bathroom door clutching onto my wheely machine that holds my chemo and saline. I do what I gotta do to see Cowboy Bob again, and I return to room 28, my chemo therapy room for the day.
Before I know it, I’m onto my next drug. Doxorubicin. It makes your pee orange or pink. Mine ended up being orange. I was hoping for pink as orange is my least favorite color and pink is my favorite, and also orange is not too far from yellow, but it’s cool. You win some you lose some. Ammiright. The chemo itself looked like kool-aid, but something tells me if I were to drink it rather than have it put through my fun port tubes it would not taste like kool-aid.
That went by super quickly, I think that drug only lasts like fifteen minutes or something, so I was halfway done!!!!! Wooo!!!!!!! Then, I waited around and answered some text messages. Maybe I fell asleep? I don’t think so, though. I don’t really remember.
Nurse Jen kicked out my parents real quick because I’m 18 and had to answer questions and because I am so adult and mature and sophisticated, they had to leave. She asked me if I partake in drinking, which I answered honestly. With friends, at parties, but not by myself watching the Notebook cuddling a bottle of Pinot Grigio. (Not that that sounds too bad, to be honest.) She asked me about smoking: cigarettes, marijuana, etc. I’ve never smoked a cigarette. And I never really had to answer the weed part, because she made it clear that it can conflict with my pain killers and maybe make it hard for me to breathe. She asked me about sex, and the dos and don’ts of being sexually active while having treatment. I am so very happy my parents were not in the room, but Nurse Jen was very cool and made the whole thing not weird. She was just obligated to share and ask about those fun, intimate topics. My parents came back and I could feel all of us just wishing Cowboy Bob would visit.
I was then moved to the inpatient part of the hospital. Normally when you do chemo, (I say this as though I’ve been doing this for ages. It is my first day. Hahahhahahaa. I am not a seasoned chemo treated girl.) you do it outpatient. Meaning, you go to the hospital in the morning, leave to go home when you are done with treatment, and come back the next day to do your next day of chemo. (and so on for as many days as planned.) Inpatient is being admitted to the hospital, so that you can be closely monitored during the chemo. We decided to do inpatient for the first three days of the first cycle just to be safe. Which was wise, because…………. (cliffhanger)
I experienced side effects! Oh what fun! Once I was in my hospital bed and had briefly met my roommate (this beautiful 12 year old girl named Emma who was dealing with shit way worse than me. My heart goes out to her.) and my cool nurse (she was so funny and our senses of humor vibed well together) I began to feel nauseous. Now, I’m sorry if you don’t like to talk about nausea, but it just so happens that that is a HUGE part of chemo. I had heard doctors talk about anti-nausea meds and being on top of it and all that, but it did not sink in until I was sitting on my hospital bed feeling “weird.” I kept saying I didn’t think it was nausea, (probably wishful thinking) but I definitely felt weird. Wrongo, Casey. Wrong, indeed. It was nausea you silly girl. And we know this from watching dear old Casey slump over a yellow bucket, calling the nurses to put anti-nausea medicine in her port as soon as possible please, and watching her father who hates vomit leave the room. Goooooooooood times. But lesson definitely learned. I take anti-nausea medicine around the clock now.
The rest of the night is pretty much a blur.

I can’t really blog about my next two days in Chemo because they are seriously so scattered in my brain, but here are important things I feel I can share:
-David, my boyfriend, visited me on Day 2 at nighttime and stayed with me until I fell asleep, despite having an 8:30 class the next morning. He is the best human.
-Daniel, my nurse for Day 2, was the BOMB DIGGITY. He was so funny and kind, and I want to be friends with him and if I am ever inpatient again, I pray he is my nurse.
-Day 3 was emotionally horrible and the first day I had no visitors. It was a really hard day. I don’t necessarily want to reflect.

Day 4 of Treatment: Not Sure What to Call You
April 2nd, 2016
Today I don’t have to go to Chemo, but I do have to go to the hospital for some shot that helps my blood count stay high. So close to being free of you, hospital!!! So close!!! (The doctors and nurses are incredibly nice. I’m just a jerk.) But first, I have a lovely meeting with my therapist. One of the chemo medicines I have to take in pill form has this really cute side effect of intensifying my emotions and moods (similar to becoming a vampire on The Vampire Diaries, for those of you CW fans out there.) so this should be an interesting session. After that, I am going to head over to the hospital for the shot (mmm my favorite!)
And then, (this is actually something I’m really proud of) I’m going to donate my hair. Since I will no longer be needing it, I’m really excited to give it to someone who wants a wig when they no longer have hair themselves. I supposedly loose my hair sometime during the second/third week of my first cycle, which we are now in the first week of, so now is the best time to do it. I think my mom wants to cut her hair too, not for donation because she doesn’t have long enough hair, but in solidarity. Or so she says. I think she’s just lookin’ for a new do. (due? doo? dew? You know what I mean.)
I’m sitting in bed writing because I have been on and off sleeping. It was my first night back at the apartment, and I was an emotional wreck. (Thank you chemo pills.) I just can’t stop thinking about the fact that this is real. That I have cancer. And despite the absurdly amazing support system I have, I often feel so alone. I know that is such a cliché, to be surrounded by love and still feel isolated. But it really is how I feel sometimes. People keep calling me strong, and brave, and all I am doing are things I have no choice but to do.
I am experiencing some of the side effects they warned me about. It makes this shit feel so much more real. When they were reading the actual insane amount of side effects that probably won’t but very well could occur to me, I didn’t know what to think. I’ve been up since like 5 am after a night of tossing and turning and weird, very weird, dreams. I have no appetite. I just had to take seven pills this morning, and at least eight left to go. If I haven’t mentioned before I am not a good pill taker. It takes a deep breathe of courage and about a gallon of water in order for me to take Tylenol. But, you do what you have to do, and my parents are helping me find tricks to make it easier.
My incision really hurts and I’m not sure if I am paranoid or perhaps it is infected. While undergoing treatment, you aren’t supposed to shave your body hair but since my counts are up and it’s the first two weeks (eventually chemotherapy will remove my body hair [and my hair hair]) for me, so I am allowed to shave. Judy said she would help me. Nothing like some mother daughter bonding time, ammiright?
I mentioned that my mom wants to cut her hair along with me today. I brought it up to her that she has to be sure she wants this new hair cut. Every time, and I mean every time, she has cut her hair, she has hated it. She complains, she regrets it, as all women (me included) who love their hair do. But I confided in my mom as she awkwardly shaved my legs for me. I told her, and warned her that this was selfish, that this time is different. I can’t have her complaining about her hair when I will be coming to terms with having none. She took my hand and promised me she would never, ever do that. She wants this hair cut and would never complain about something of the sort when I’m going through this. I made her promise 23984234.3 times out of paranoia, but eventually felt a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was selfish of me, but I knew I would regret saying nothing.
Now I sit waiting for my therapist to arrive. I’ve found that texting people, about anything at all, stresses me out. It makes me anxious. People are so curious, well-intently, but it makes me want to scream. It is a common response for me to say “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.” I don’t know what I’ll talk to my therapist about. I’m not sure what I can articulate about what I’m feeling. Even in writing this blog, I feel like I am sharing facts rather than feelings. Maybe there is a part of me that doesn’t feel anything.
My therapist appointment went fairly productively. It feels like a blur. I don’t know if that is because I am currently exhausted, or because I was crying for a lot of it. Regardless, my parents and I talked out some things we all need to work on with these changes. We went to the hospital for a super quick shot (not the kind you take after I say vitals. the painful kind.) where we all discussed Cowboy Bob. He is such a polarizing figure, that Cowboy Bob.
Then, my mom and I were off to cut our hair. My mom decided against cutting hers super short in the therapist appointment, something that really threw that weight on my shoulders into the wind, and I was so excited to donate. Sometimes it takes doing something good for someone else to feel better about yourself. That’s kind of selfish, but I could be selfish in worse ways, I suppose.
I thought that this would just be a happy visit to the hair salon, but it wasn’t. It was a chic, shop on a European looking street. I walked in, put on a robe, (this place was so legit) and headed upstairs to donate my hair. The woman cutting my hair, Maria, welcomed me to her chair. She told me she would take the donated part of my hair off now, without it being wet, and then wash it and fix it up. My stomach tightened—already????? But I nodded as she put my hair in a pony tail in preparation to be cut. My mom sat beside me, smiling with excitement. We predicted where my hair would fall, and once I was happy with what the length would probably be, Maria began to cut. Simultaneously, I began to tear. It was just weird to think that this would be my last hair cut for so long. A part of me was just like, fuck it, should I shave it now and cut (haha pun) the anticipation? I listened to the sound of the scissors hitting my ponytail to the feeling of my muscles tensing. She released my ponytail and set it on the table. My hair fell right under my chin. Maybe I’ll put in pictures if I ever figure out how blogs work. I loved it. I loved it loved it loved it. Which only made me really cry. I would have this haircut for maybe, what, a week? And then it would be gone. And for a really long time I thought worrying about being bald made me petty or unappreciative of the amazing treatment I am fortunate enough to receive, but the truth is, hair makes people feel beautiful. Boys, girls, men, women. We all appreciate our hair. And it hit me in that moment that no matter how much I love the way my hair looks, it will be gone in the blink of an eye.
I’ll work the baldness, that I know. I’ll get some cool ass scarves and wear a bold lip color and walk into places with confidence even if I have none. I promise, I will.
But in that moment, I couldn’t remember that part of myself. I felt so helpless. It really was only a moment though, because I loved the way I looked right then and there and if I worried about how I wouldn’t like how I looked later in the weeks to come, I would’ve wasted this moment. That sentence confused me. But I know what I mean.
So we washed my hair and fixed up some funny ends, and I loved the way I looked. I felt so beautiful, for a second I forgot how temporary everything was. I took an embarrassing amount of selfies and waited for my mom to finish her haircut. (She looked amazing. And even the genius haircutter said he would not cut her hair short, so clearly I have a potential career in hair.)
My friends showered me with compliments on my hair and it gave me a confidence boost I think I really needed. The entire week had been full of texts filled with good wishes and prayers about my cancer, messages I beyond words appreciated, but these were about something a little more superficial, something I needed. It may be weird to want something superficial but I did. I don’t know, man. It felt good.
I came back to the apartment (which I think I’ll just refer to as home, now) and my fingers were just obsessively running through my hair. I had visitors come over and we played board games, threw in some morbid cancer jokes (those are inevitable with me. I would prepare if I were you.) and had an amazing time. It felt so normal, and just reminiscing on that night now makes me smile and feel like crying. (It could also be those emotion amplifying pills I have to take. Who knows.) David, my boyfriend, slept over (in different beds, don’t y’all worry) and we played Uno into the night. (That is not a euphemism, continue with not worrying.) He’s also my best friend so it helps having him around.

Day 6 of Treatment: Sinclair’s Birthday
April 4, 2016
I’ve found I am not good at being alone unless it is with me writing or reading. I’m sure people who do not have cancer can relate, but it is something I’ve found to be very true with me and I happen to have cancer. But my point is, I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive.
I have had many visitors come by these past few days. It is so awesome and a great distraction, but I feel myself becoming overwhelmed at times. I wish I could shut off the part of my brain that knows I have cancer and live my life as I normally do. Last night I broke down completely when Evan and Kristina, two of my best friends, were over. I felt so guilty but I couldn’t stop. I went into my room to “nap” and just cried. It felt so unlike me, I want desperately to feel like me again. And there are times where I do, but there are so many times where I don’t. My parents try to make it better. But the touch of a parent can often make me cry harder. I feel like a burden no matter how many times I am told I am not. (This is something Nancy my therapist tells me to work on. I am trying, Nancy!!!!! They say acceptance is the first step!!!!!!!!!)
Listening to people talk about studio, my acting training, is bittersweet. I’m hungry for information on what is going on in class but I want so so so so badly to be there. And when people complain about rehearsals and work, I totally relate because literally a second ago that was me complaining, but now a part of me gets mad because I would do all of that in a heartbeat. But that’s not fair of me and I know that. I get mad at myself for feeling that way. It is a vicious cycle.
Today is going to be a great day though. I am sick and tired of feeling badly and I’m going to make sure I have a good day. My goal is to let myself feel how I feel but not sit in it. One of my acting teachers gave me a game to play with myself for when I am upset called, “and this is what I want.” Basically, whenever I’m going through something upsetting or uncomfortable, i.e remembering that I will be losing my hair in the upcoming weeks, I say to myself: “I will be losing my hair, and this is what I want.” Sometimes it really works for me.
But today is one of my best best best friends birthdays! Sinclair!!!!!! I plan on sending her gifts to her dorm so just in case I can’t see her today she knows I am thinking about her day of birth. I love making people smile on their birthdays. Generally I like making people smile, but ESPECIALLY on their birthdays. I’m going to write her a nice long letter and it’ll be lovely and I am excited about it.
My mom’s friend Cindy (and also someone I consider a friend) is coming in to visit today, as well. I love when my mom’s friends visit. I just like listening to people talk sometimes, and it takes the pressure off when someone isn’t necessarily visiting solely for me. I think we’ll get lunch or brunch or something, (if I have an appetite, which I rarely do now) and that’ll be super fun. Then, after Cindy leaves, I think I’m going to go shopping with my mom. We are going to go look for some light, pretty scarves for when I don’t have my hair. I don’t think I’ll want to do the wig-thing. I don’t know why. Many women look absolutely beautiful with wigs, but a) I’ll be receiving treatment during the summer and it can get sweaaaaaty and b) if I’m going to have cancer and lose my hair, the best way I can come to terms with it is by embracing it. I’m not sure if that makes sense. But it dooooooooes to me.
My mom is currently showering and getting ready for the day, something I should do. I’ve already taken my medicine. My dad is at work. I am now just typing things that are true. One time in studio we played a game called two truths and a lie and I loved it so much. I am so excited for the finish line of this whole experience. I can’t wait to be a stronger person than I am now. I feel very weak sometimes. People keep telling me I am being strong, and that I am brave, but I am really just doing what I am told to do. I say this a lot. I hope I feel differently soon. I am rambling. I should find a way to style my hair because let me tell you: my hair drying naturally in a short hair cut is a sight. I will not put a picture of that.
I just yawned into a tissue. I’m losing my mind. (and my hair. ahhahahahahahahhahahahaha. yikes.)
My childhood summer camp director just called to check in on me and see how I was feeling. Ever since I was little I thought of him as a celebrity. That was such an interesting phone call. It feels like it didn’t happen. I don’t know why.
I am hungry but afraid to eat because I don’t want to feel sick at all. I rarely have an appetite. Hmm.
I am now wondering if I should put time stamps on when I write these one liners because I sound like a rambling woman.
I’ve decided against it. Too much effort. You may calling me the rambling woman, I don’t mind. I also realize my capitalization and grammar aren’t at their best. I apologize for those who cringe at improper grammar and what not. It is just not my priority. Blame it on the cancer.
People keep texting me very positive messages and encouraging thoughts. I want to feel the way people claim they see me.
I am now feeling the side effects of nausea. This is so fun. It is only the first week. I need to get out of the house but we are still waiting for Cindy, my mom’s friend.
She arrived. Cindy and my mom like to knit together, and they had been discussing knitting me hats for when I have no hair. Cindy is the sweetest woman, truly, she is so kind and generous. She brought me two bracelets that said strength and conquer, two beautiful words I wish could just dissolve into the veins on my wrist holding them and overcome me. She also brought me a hat. I tried it on with my cute new hair cut, and thanked her profusely for the cute purple beanie. I then had the idea, genius that I am, to tuck in my hair and try on the hat again in front of the mirror.
I was not ready for this.
My eyes looked sick. The bags beneath them seemed darker than they ever had. I looked like a girl with cancer. I am a girl with cancer. And I just so badly don’t want to be. I want to be healthy, I want to be out with Sinclair celebrating her birthday. I want to be walking the streets of New York City as a college student to one million rehearsals that I can’t keep track of. I don’t want cancer.
And I began to cry. And my mom saw it before I did, and Cindy saw it soon after, and they both felt incredibly guilty. I wanted to tell them it wasn’t their fault, that I just did that too soon. I excused myself into my room and here I am now. Crying and sniffling when I told myself I would be more positive today.
I want to be more positive. I feel like all I do is feel badly for myself and I can’t stop. This is so hard.
The image of standing in front of that long rectangular mirror looking like a sick girl with cancer is haunting me, and I am letting it. I don’t know what to do.
I napped. It was a good solution, it calmed me down. I don’t think we are going to go shopping today. My mom keeps trying to get me to eat something and I really just do not want to. I got some gifts in the mail today. People are so kind and I have never had so many stuffed animals in my entire lifetime. One of the stuffed animals is this huge British bear that is basically my size. (Not actually, but not too off) It is so huggable and squeezable.
I’m now sitting and writing. I don’t know if I want to go out today. I don’t know where I would go. I want to do something fun but it is already so late in the day. I am napping my day away and for some reason that feels like an analogy for this cancer and my life even though I know I am not dying and I am not going to die and I will be fine. I am a dramatic. I am an actor.
People are doing this thing called Relay for Life in honor of me. That sounded so gross to type and so narcissistic. “In honor of me” I’m not dead. But it is the sweetest most generous most selfless thing that people are doing for me. “The American Cancer Society Relay For Life event is a life-changing experience that gives everyone in communities across the globe a chance to Celebrate the lives of people who have battled cancer, Remember loved ones lost, and Fight Back against the disease. Each year, more than 4 million people in over 20 countries take part in this global phenomenon and raise much-needed funds and awareness to save lives from cancer.” (I can always count on you, cancer.org!) I can’t believe people, my brother included, are doing this with me in mind. It makes me want to cry good tears. (And I have. and I am. as I type.)
I am feeling really guilty about not going outside today. If I feel this lack of motivation on days where I have a good enough white cell blood count to go out in public in busier places, what am I going to do on days where it is best I am home and around few people? I don’t want these three weeks to be a waste of space. I don’t. I’m terrified of becoming depressed. I am a happy person. I do not want to be an unhappy person and I don’t know how to stop it from happening.
A commercial just came on about chemo, I didn’t even realize. My mom muted it. I realized. I’m exhausted.
I just read all of this up to now to my mom. I cried. I think I will make this public maybe. I don’t know.
I just had the nutritious dinner of McDonalds chicken nuggets and fries. After tonight I will be considered temporarily NutriPenic (I do not know if I spelled that correctly) which means no food from restaurants or the outside world so I’m going a little crazy. I want to watch a musical movie. Maybe Into The Woods. Tonight Evan and Kristina are coming over for a movie night, we are going to watch Brooklyn. I’m getting sleepy. I still have pills to take tonight. Arghhhhhh.
Fuck it. I am doing it. I am going to watch Into The Woods with Meryl Streep until my friends get here. I now realize that sounds like my good friend Meryl is stopping by to watch it with me. Ideal, but not the case.
Nevermind. I got a wave of tiredness. I think my family and I are going to have movie night and my friends are going to stay at their dorms. I just don’t have it in me to be energized, and even though my friends understand that I won’t always be me me, I feel an obligation to be regardless. I know, I know. Stop that, Casey. Stop that.
I wonder what movie we will watch. I want to watch something like Into The Woods but I know my dad doesn’t really like it. These are the questions, ladies and gents. Stay tuned.
We didn’t watch a movie. I began getting really sleepy and we watched Modern Family. I began to feel some pretty awful side effects and had to take my night meds.
I’m an awful pill taker. I’ve mentioned this before. And tonight, I just lost it. I felt myself lose it. I began crying because I have to do this for six months. About 16 pills a day for hopefully no more than six months. I feel like such a baby. Children take these meds, probably better than I can. How am I going to do this? I feel myself complaining about the back pain from one of my chemo drugs and I just want to shut myself up.
My parents are so understanding, too. I am so lucky. I really am. My dad and I are watching SVU now. It is so weird how I can go from hysterically crying at our kitchen counter to smiling with my dad watching law and order. I’m trying to embrace everything I feel so I can move on to the next feeling. One of my favorite teachers taught me that.

And now I am making this public to people. I will continue to share my story as it goes on. I hope I go to sleep soon but this SVU episode has me brainwashed.