The One in Which I Talk About my New Goals

I know it's completely normal to feel fear when one is diagnosed with cancer. I've read it, heard it, and experienced it. What one fears is not the same for everyone. That's seems normal as well. I remember my friend, Jeanne, who recently passed from pancreatic cancer, expressed a lot of fear about the pain in the end. That is not the fear that I try to push to the dark recesses of my mind. Maybe I'm naive, but I believe there is enough modern medicine out there for me to avoid a lot of pain in the end. If I'm wrong, don't feel the need to set me straight. This is one of those situations where ignorance is truly bliss.

As much as I try to avoid it, I do have fear that bubbles up to the surface.  My fear is that I'm going to miss so many things in life by dying "young". REALLY young people who are reading this blog are thinking, "What?!?! Is she off her nut? She's 50 years old! That's not young!" But older people understand what I'm saying. I'm a mother of four children, adults (mostly): 28, 24, 22, and 20. But I've got so much of their lives to see. I've been married 25 lucky years to my Schmoopy, but I thought I had at least double that to fill our lives with memories. I fear missing the weddings, the births, the family gatherings at Game Nights, Thanksgiving and Christmas, trips with my Schmoopy...or just sitting out in the evening around a fire pit and talking and laughing...

I swear that my tumor must be near some area of my brain that controls emotions because I cry at the drop of a hat, and I can't seem to control it. I mean really CRY - the kind of crying where you can't even talk so that anyone can understand what you're saying. And I breathe deep when it starts to come on, thinking that I will get my words out before the waterworks start, but it's hopeless. I cry like that at some point on most walks with Steven. I used to apologize, but now he tells me it wouldn't feel like an official walk if I didn't cry at least once. I told you our walks are like my therapy!

So, know when I write about this subject, I'm a mess: tears streaming down my face and strangled sobs in my throat. #sorrynotsorry

<grabbing tissues and wiping my face dry>
<Deep Breaths>

When I was first diagnosed and (mostly) recovered from my surgery, and I decided that I was a Mother Fucking Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior! (Rawwr!) I took a bulletin board out of the garage and re-purposed it. I hung it up and thought about everything that I wanted to experience in the next 6 months - things that I was fighting for.

As cards and email and letters poured in from June's Warriors, I hung those up around the board and I regularly gazed at that corner as I was getting ready for the day.

(Kiddies, Here's a little tip for you: you gain a lot more time in your day if you shave - or lose- your hair. I must save 40 - 60 min. a day not having to fuss with my hair anymore.)

This weekend the family went down to watch Katherine graduate from UC Santa Barbara.  As I was waiting for Katherine to walk down the aisle for her commencement, I realized that this was the last event that I had pinned to my bulletin board. As I started to tear up, I tried to express this to my father and husband (whom I was sitting between), and after several attempts to talk through my blubbering tears, I got the message across. My father leaned over and gave me a big hug and kiss on the head. (A moment I wouldn't ever want to miss - see how that works?)

Both of them said the same thing: "Better get some new goals up there ASAP!" As soon as I got home from UCSB, I started my latest chemo cycle, so I'm not all that spry, but the more that I've been thinking about it, the more that this assignment seemed too pressing to wait until my chemo cycle was over on Friday.

Yesterday, I unpinned each card and message from all of you - reread them and smiled (yes, and cried - #freepass!), as well as my pictures of my goals and tucked them in a basket that I now have in my "meditation corner". The positive energy emanating from that basket must be off the charts!

By the time I finished that, I had to lie down, take some anti-nausea meds, and binge watch some more "Orange is the New Black" and nap. So, I woke up this morning with a blank bulletin board. That seemed like really bad karma, so I set to work importing and printing my new goals.

New board includes room for more goals as I think of them...

The first time I did this, I was afraid to go too far beyond 6 months. Why? I'm not sure. I guess that my prognosis was so shitty that I couldn't get my brain to dream beyond that. This time, I've gone into next year. My last goal up on the board is to attend Autumn Elizabeth's first birthday. But I think maybe I'm allowing the "F" word (FEAR - what did you think I was talking about?!) to interfere with my goals. And what do I really have to lose by planning for something in 2017, 2018? Wouldn't it be something if I were to witness Autumn's first dance at HER wedding?

April & Coffey's first dance - (Notice my parents in the background.)

A ninja warrior can dream, can't she? Yes, she can!

The One in Which I Explain How Brain Cancer Made Me a Hugger

June's Brain Cancer 101:

I am going to get a technical here in the beginning, so things will make more sense later on... Sorry! I won't charge you tuition or anything, so no worries about student loans, etc. And it ends with hugging, so it will totally be worth it. It you are really lame, and you want to skip to the hugging part, scroll down...

Here! This should tide you over:

One of my favorite hugging pictures: two of my girls in fake furs at H&M.

My tumor was on the motor strip of my brain. I also have/had some "weirdness" (obviously a highly technical term that you will have to google later) on my scans adjacent to this location, on my right temporal lobe. They (local neuro experts as well as the UCSF folks), aren't sure what exactly is going on there - it's "ambiguous" - but after two separate Tumor Boards reviewed it, we're treating is as a "secondary location". This actually makes sense, too, because seizures (my red flag indicator that led to my diagnosis) are more often associated with the temporal lobe than the motor strip. And it explains why my radiation treatment was pretty complicated  - for the physicists - not me! I just laid there and got zapped. It sucked, but it wasn't complicated... Oh, and why I have more than a "patchiness" to my hair loss as a result. Try: half of my head is bald; Steven shaves the other half about every 3 days or so. #superschmoopy

Here is a basic diagram of the brain, so you get an idea of what I'll be talking about:

 
First, let's look at the motor strip. (See below for detailed diagram).  The tumor was located around the area where the mouth produces speech: lips, jaw, tongue, etc.  BTW, this is one of the actual diagrams that the UCSF neurologist shared with us. I'm imagining that it's one of those visuals that they create for medical students to help they memorize all the shit they have to memorize.  I hope that's what it's for - because otherwise, it's primary purpose is to give people horrible nightmares?

Freaky looking, no?

 Looking at this - it seems pretty clear to me that my tumor was located around that creepy open-mouthed face because it is the actual articulation of some words that I had the most problems with immediately post-surgery. It also explains why my neurosurgeon and neurologist both had me go through the paces with showing that I had no weaknesses in movement or perceived sensation in my left side of the rest of my body - face, arm, hand, legs, etc. because if you follow logically up that motor strip, that would where the "deficits" would be located.

Hey, kiddies - A little lesson for you out there: the medical community likes to refer to losses in physical/cognitive abilities as "deficits". It sounds more clinical and less traumatic, I guess. FYI - We talked about possible "deficits" the day before my surgery, including significant weaknesses on the whole left side of my body.  Newsflash: despite my drugged up state, it didn't feel less traumatic to me. Nor was I less grateful when coming out of the surgery to realize that my left side of my body was fully functioning/strong.

The "weirdness" located on the temporal lobe explains the more subtle but annoying deficits in my speech - what I call fluency, but is more accurately referred to as "prosody, or the rhythm of one’s speech" (source: Right Temporal Lobe Functions) It appears to be getting better - with lots and lots of practice speaking, but you may notice it especially when I'm tired after a long day, etc.

[For those of you that have read this far, you might want to apply for some college credit units for your effort. Of course, there will be a quiz later to prove that you were actually paying attention.]

I've been reading more about this temporal lobe stuff because of the follow-up MRI I had done last week. The good news is they saw shrinkage in the primary area AKA the motor strip where the tumor was resected (Yay!). However, they are still picking up some "weirdness" in that secondary location. It's a wait-and-watch kind of thing...which is not my strong suit. And with all this time on my hands, I'm doing a little poking around, learning more about the ...

RIGHT TEMPORAL LOBE:
I thought this was a really interesting thing I found on the interwebs:
Sometimes damage to part of the temporal lobe can cause personality changes such as humorlessness, extreme religiosity, and obsessiveness. People may have an overwhelming urge to write.  The Merk Manual Home Edition.

I haven't noticed a loss of humor or more religious tendencies. One could argue that it would be hard to gauge my "obsessiveness" on an objective scale in general...But an "overwhelming urge to write". That's pretty cool. Maybe that explains my interest in blogging? I've always liked to write...I just didn't have the time that I have now! (I have a LOT more time on my hands...especially when I wake up at 3:45 a.m.! DOH!)
 
****THE HUGGING PART****

 I have noticed a personality change in me that is not indicated here, though...

I'm a hugger! Why would I suddenly become a hugger? Don't get me wrong. I've always liked hugs. But I've never been what one would call a "Hug Initiator".

I googled that shit, and the first several links were about tree huggers (#googlefail) - but I did find this blog about Wanting to be a Hugger, though, which I found really interesting. It has a central Christian religious theme, but even if you're not religious, you might find it thought-provoking. I can totally get behind the catchy message: "More like Jesus. Less like a Jerk".

I'm pretty sure, though, that becoming a Hugger has got nothing to do with my tumor location or the various diagrams of my brain. 
 <eh hem>
Question from the audience: But June!! Why did you make us read all that stuff about your brain and tumor???? 
June: Quit yer whining! Hey, you learned some good stuff today, right? You may even be inspired to go back to medical school for all I know. You're welcome.

I just wanted to explain - if you noticed all the hugging - I didn't want you to chalk it up to brain damage.  June the Hugger is about an emotional transformation, not a physical one. 

If you were at this week's Livermore Fundraiser Event, you saw June the Hugger in full force.
Have I met you before? Doesn't matter! Imma gonna give you a hug!

Here is a picture I blatantly stole from someone FB account. Thank, Irene!

I wish I had more pictures to post of the event, but I was too busy hugging! Oh, and ROCKIN' my Mother Fuckin' Ninja Warrior Purple Hair! #mfbcfnw

Wednesday morning, before the event, Steven and I went for a walk, and we talked (and cried) about how overwhelming and humbling it was to have so many people in our lives who are so good and kind and generous...and we talked specifically about this blog and how some people tell us that they are inspired by our journey...

But I told Steven, they've got it all wrong because THEY inspire ME. In my mind's eye, I see my arms wide open, and YOU lifting me up with your words and your prayers and your thoughts.... And all I want to do when I see you is wrap my arms around you all and say, "Thank You!" and "I love you!"

THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU!!!!

And I'm going to do it every chance I get. Consider this your warning!

Did Brain Cancer make me a Hugger? Hell, yes! And I'm the better for it. Who'd a thunk?

______________________________________________________________________________

P.S. I'm going to do a whole blog about the Livermore Fundraising Event soon, but I'm begging anyone out there that has pictures to share. I'm serious when I say that I basically have none. I was too busy hugging people. If you're willing to share, please email them to me at: junemirassou@gmail.com.  Thank you!!!

The One in Which I Distract Myself from My Scanxiety - and just try and CHILL OUT.

Tomorrow (Friday, 1/9/15) at 11:00 a.m., I will be stuffed into a metal and plastic tube - having high-tech stuff swirling around my head, clicking and whirring and knocking - scanning the New June's Brain. or June's New Brain? Whatever. You get the idea. The point is...I'm anxious, scared, freaked out...and not just because I'm claustrophobic.

You all know I'm claustrophobic, right? But ANYONE in that situation would be grateful for this beautiful, beautiful little white pill called Ativan that makes me able to even think about the situation now without breaking out in hives. (Okay, I cannot tell I lie: I just googled who invented Ativan. Three cheers to Stanley C. Bell! You rocked, Smartypants Scientist!)

Just looking at this picture makes my heart beat a little faster! GAH!

I suppose whoever invented the MRI machine deserves a lot of credit, too. Okayyyyy...So, I'll google it... Here ya' go:  Raymond Vahan Damadian. But I'm not cheering him without some Ativan in my system already. Sorry, Ray. I'm sure you were a super smartypants, too, but some people get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.

It will be my first post-initial treatment MRI. The results will then be forwarded to my "local team": radiologist and oncologist, as well as my UCSF team. I have an appointment on Monday, 1/12/14, with my oncologist to discuss the results. <gulp!> I know...We know that the first post-treatment MRI is a weird one. It will be only 4-5 weeks since my last radiation/chemo treatment, and I'm still tapering off my steroids. They expect things to look ...well, not normal.  Actually, come to think of it, my scans will never look "normal" again since I had a very "AbbyNormal" tumor up in there and with what they had to remove and zap and such, right?

But this MRI will (hopefully!) "just" be a new baseline, showing the effectiveness of my treatment as well as a new comparison point for all future scans.

But anyone who has/had cancer knows that feeling of SCANXIETY.  

[Confession: I'm suppressing the urge to break out into a song in Mel Brook's accent at this moment? I know I'm not alone. Why fight it?]

SCANXIETY is that feeling that overtakes us - I was going to say Cancer Warriors - but really anyone who has a chronic condition and needs to be monitored through scans to ensure there are no negative changes over time. It could be a recurrence, worsening of condition, or an entirely new bag of crap to deal with.  You know: everything we try not to think about in our every day lives, or it would make us crazy!

I'm trying to live my life these days - 90% of the time - focused on the HERE and NOW. Appreciating the present and letting go of those things that I can't control. But these MRI's - which will continue on pretty much forever in my future - bring up the WHAT IF's bubbling to the surface like a barrel full of corks floating in water. Try to push some down, and more just pop up somewhere else.

So....what am I going to do? I've already been online this morning, looking at cute pictures of animals - micro-pigs and hedgehogs, doggies, kitties, and of course....SQUIRRELS! (Hey, don't knock my hobbies! Haven't I already told you that the world needs less cynicism and more whimsy!)

Internet Lesson of the Day - Feel free to skip if you'd rather carry on with more serious talk.
Kiddies, I always try to teach you something useful, so here it is for today:  If you are willing to up your game from Pinterest, the real mother-lode of ridiculously cute animals is far and away reddit.com. They have whole subreddits devoted just to "Dogs Wearing Hats" and "Animals Being Derps".  But if you're a newbie... Quick Test: Do you know what a subreddit is? No?----> I suggest you start with the wildly popular and aptly named "Awww". And you can pin these on Pinterest and feel smug virtuous about contributing some semi-new content! Win-win!

This one is called: Kitten and Bunny Lookalikes.

Question from the audience: But June, how long will looking at adorable animals pictures really distract you?
Answer: Longer than you'd think...under normal circumstances. But with the scan a day away....not long enough, unfortunately.

It's not all about the scan, though. It's about the fact that we have to face the results of the scan and respond to them. We don't know yet what we're going to learn, but we are going to learn something. And we will have to make decisions based on that information. Which requires us to start actually looking at the WHAT IF's/THEN...scenarios, choices, options. So, Steven and I take deep breaths and start wading into the world of WHAT IF's with GBM patients.

So, how do we navigate this new, uncertain, scary time? How exactly am I supposed to CHILL OUT?!

Uh, oh! We've unlocked June's teacher-mode! Look out!

Let's reframe this situation, shall we? I may have many more MRI's in my future....which means a lot of more of these "Scanniversaries" and SCANXIETY ... as long as I have a FUTURE....

And that's very good news, indeed. Yes, it is!

 So, I need to associate Scanniversaries with LIFE instead of ANXIETY.

Got it? Got it.  

I'll keep working on it. Practice, practice, practice.

My new mantra:
Continuing MRI's = Continuing FUTURE

And I say that deserves a cheers to both Stanley C. Bell and Raymond Vahan Damadian!

Now, if we can just find the next Smartypants Scientist(s) to find a CURE for Cancer, 

I swear I'd throw the biggest party EVAH! 

With unlimited cheers! and drinks on the house! (Shhhhh! Don't tell Steven.)

You heard it here first!

______________________________________________________________________________

And now a BONUS TRACK!

Introducing: JUNE'S WARRIORS - SUPPORT page!

 

We are so grateful for the all the expressions of support, love, and encouragement that we've received from friends, family, and complete strangers around the world. We are humbled and overwhelmed by the response to our current challenge. From the messages and the cards, the meals dropped off, contributions of organic veggies, cozy blankets and toasty & cute hats...the list goes on and on...
all of it has meant so much to our family.

In addition, some of our communities have spontaneously organized fundraising opportunities for our family. We thank you so much for your big, big hearts and effort, and thank you to everyone who participates/donates!

One of the things about my condition is that it is chronic (I prefer chronic to terminal, don't you? Although John Cleese said, "Life is a terminal disease, and it's sexually transmitted.") ... and unpredictable. We are fortunate enough to have insurance, however, we just got news yesterday that my MRI will be the first thing applied to our annual deductible in January.  Wheeeee! Ka-ching! My monthly medication co-pays also add up. And the reality is that, "standard treatment" for GBM is very limited at this time. Down the road, we also may be looking at significant out-of-pocket expenses associated with clinical trials and seeking alternative/supplemental care. In other words, we most certainly need and appreciate all the support.

I've created a new page on this blog: JUNE'S WARRIORS - SUPPORT to acknowledge and keep you updated on all of June's Warriors efforts. It will include not just opportunities to support our family, but links to support the often overlooked cause of Brain Cancer.

If you are already planning to come to our event next Wednesday, January 14th @ the Vine- our family is very excited to see you all in person! If not, click on the June's Warriors page and find out more. It's going to be bitchin'!

NO ONE FIGHTS ALONE!

The One in Which I Explain the Importance of my Ninja Stars

So, I had this high school friend, Pamela H....the kind of friend with whom you exchanged notes throughout the day in high school, passing in the hallway. (Kiddies, this was an archaic custom that happened before cell phones and texting...I KNOW! How we suffered!). We were are such geeks, that I highly doubt that anyone else's notes were filled with the same kind of socio-political commentary that ours had. (We were 17 years old! Jeebus!)

I went off to college in D.C. to study political science (go figure!) , and then my parents moved far away from our hometown, so I lost contact with pretty much all of my high school friends throughout the following years. Until Facebook happened. Suddenly, I was able to reconnect with so many of my hometown friends - and just in time for our <mumble,mumble> reunion! What a great time, reconnecting In Real Life with these people!

How is it that the one picture I have of Pamela at the reunion, she is not facing the camera??? Oy!

I look at this picture now and see so many faces that have reached out to me in the last 3 months and filled me with so much support and love and encouragement...Just give me a minute...
<grabbing some tissues>  Big Hugs & Smooches to all of you! You have no idea how much you have helped me through this challenging time.

But I digress...Shocking, I know. I usually am so good at staying on point and being succinct...
<snortle!> Hey, give me credit because: 1) I always have a point and 2) I eventually get there!

Pamela lives in New York State now in a place that sounds like Shakespeare lived there at one time - which totally makes sense because she has always been wicked smart and had a love of literature. I mean, she studied Latin in H.S. - on purpose! And she's a librarian! (Yes, kiddies, these still exist today in some locations! Google that Shit if you don't know what it is.) It was amazing at the reunion how quickly we slipped back into our conversations, like no time at passed at all. It was difficult to get into anything deep (see picture above for evidence), but I had heard that she was going through her own Ninja Warrior Caregiver Superhero experience back then...

So, I guess it shouldn't have been a surprise to me at all that a package arrived from her "Shakespeare-town" not long after I went public about my diagnosis. It was filled with thoughtful, lovely treasures to amuse and comfort me, including this:

A handy camo tote bag, filled with little ninja stars to remind me that I had permission to FEEL many things on this journey. In fact, it was a given.

What she didn't know at the time was that she had sparked an idea within me: 1) I could learn to make ninja stars myself. Any self-respecting Ninja Warrior should know their way around their tools and improvise as required, right? and 2) These could be a physical manifestation of not just my feelings, but my hopes and inspiration and strength...

And that's how the idea was born to make my own Ninja Stars. Okay...so, now what?

Step One: Go on the Interwebs and search youtube for a tutorial on making Ninja Stars. (It probably doesn't surprise the kiddies out there that I had many choices.) I chose a simple, straight-forward one that seemed to have a lot of views already. I'm a visual learner, and this worked for me.

Step Two: Experiment with different paper to find the ones that work for you. Cardstock was too thick for me; construction paper was a little too flimsy. The best for me is the already square scrapbooking paper, but I didn't discover this until late in the game...

Step Three: Go for it!

I started making ninja stars before every radiation treatment. I wrote inspirational words or notes to reflect my mood at the time. Steven suggested about 2/3 of the way through that I date them as a record of what I was feeling, but it was too late. And besides, I have this blog if I ever need to look back for that, right?

Then I made ninja stars for all of the radiation technicians and nurses who I saw ever day with a note telling them how grateful I was for their compassion and care, and reminding them that they were Superheroes, too! It got to be a routine: they would ask me what I had on my ninja star that day, and I would clutch it across my chest while strapped into The Mask, pinned against the table, and being zappity-zapped.

Part of my collection - I keep finding them in pockets and purses...

They have been such a source of comfort and strength and focus for me. And now that my initial treatment is done, I guess I'm a little addicted. I started making ninja stars for others - my Carson School Family and my Steven Kent Family... These say, "Live Laugh Love". It's a simple message, but when it comes down to it, it's pretty simple.

I wish that for all of you  - 

not just during this holiday season, but every day.

The One in Which I Decide that Caregivers are Superheroes - and Steven needs a Name!

It's been a surprisingly challenging week, this week, the week after my initial treatment of chemo/radiation has ended. There was a certain comfort to knowing exactly what our schedule would be the past six weeks of treatment. We were in a routine, and, it felt like we were actively doing something to TREAT my condition. Now, I'm supposed to "rest and recover", gradually allowing my brain to heal from the ...let's face it - trauma that it's been through. All while I watch the world around me swirl into a frenzy of activity related to the holiday season. And trying NOT to project into the future and think about the possible results of my next MRI in January....

Add into the mix that I have had to slow down due to the fatigue of the final seven days of radiation "boosts" and the cumulative effects on my speech, timed perfectly with Steven's semi-regular issues with his ears/hearing. You see, his ears get all plugged up from time to time ... which are not that great anyway. I know wives say that their husbands claim they can't hear them, but Steven has actually been tested. And the results indicate that his ability to hear high and low sounds are fine, but the range of the regular human speaking voice is compromised in one of his ears. Doesn't that sounds like a SUPER combination with someone who is experiencing speech challenges and has to repeat herself anyway to be understood?! 

Let's just say that there have been a few moments of .... "frustration" and leave it at that. Okay, I may have been a  little snippy with Steven this week at times when he asked me to repeat myself. But damn it! He's never snapped back! I would say that he has the patience of Job, but then I would feel compelled to Google that shit and fill you in on the origin....

 But I can confidently say (without any further research) that he has much more patience than Steve Jobs had - and I think all of us can agree on that without even having to look it up on the interwebs, or read/watch one of his many biographies.  (And I don't even have to throw my Apple employee friends under the bus on this one. You're welcome.) I'm not a hater. I'm just saying that's not one of his "defining characteristics", shall we say?

But I'm not talking about Steve Jobs. 

I'm talking about Steven Mirassou. 

My Schmoopy. 

My Rock. 

and now my Caregiver.

"Caregiver" - that's the term that's widely used to describe the friend or family designee who is primarily responsible for the patient in cases of serious illness. It's a term that seems so inadequate. Today, I simply want to honor him and all the caregivers out there, who took on or are taking on that role of caring for a critically ill family member/friend. This is my attempt, in some small way, to public acknowledge and express my gratitude, knowing in my heart and soul that I will fail miserably at meeting the depth and breadth deserved.

Almost immediately after my prognosis, I identified myself as a Ninja Warrior. It embodied the strength, power, and agility I thought I'd need to begin and continue this fight. And it's served me well so far.

But I've thought long and hard about how to identify Steven - and other caregivers. There is a certain symmetry to calling them Samurai, but I don't think that quite matches...and I don't want to be lazy. Certainly, the Samurai role was to serve another, and they were badass warriors. And they had to do so more honorably and with far more constraints than a ninja warrior (no #freepasses). But, at least for centuries of history, Samurai were chosen from the upper echelon and drafted into those positions as public servants. (Kiddies, if you're actually interested in a long, drawn-out history of samurais..you know what to do!)

Plus, the samurai uniform isn't nearly as a cool as the ninja warrior, no?

Ninja vs. Samurai uniform - It isn't even a contest! Come on, now!

But, the real problem is that the Samurai title doesn't really capture this: CHOICE. 
I'd be willing to bet that all the caregivers out there would say that they had/have no choice. They would say, "Of course, I have to do all the difficult tasks that I have in front of me." But that is simply not true. They volunteer for that role and can duck out at any point. And that's part of the specialness of any caregiver - that they see no choice when others do. They CHOOSE to stay and slog through the hardest shit, keeping it together... Many times - MOST times - trying to continue to do whatever it is that they were doing before and adding on probably 99% of the things that their "charge" used to be able to contribute (at least in the beginning)...

And I'm talking mentally, physically, spiritually, financially...in too many ways to imagine.

It's exhausting even to think about it.

So, what do you call someone who sees someone else in pain, in need of support...and it's clear that it's not a one time deal - that they are making a committment...and they rush in instead of back away? What do you call someone who agrees to step in, stand side-by-side, through it all, no matter what?

Isn't that the definition of a hero? ....or is it a superhero? (Now THAT'S something that's worth googling.) Okay, here goes...according to Cambridge Dictionaries Online:

hero
: a person admired for bravery, great achievements, or good qualities

superhero
: a character in stories or movies who has special powers, such as the ability to fly, that are used for fighting evil or helping people
: is also a person whose actions or achievements are far greater than what people expect

 Hmmmm...both would work nicely in this situation, wouldn't they? But I'm going with SUPERHERO!  Because caregivers definitely have special powers in my book. and they definitely rise above in their actions and achievements far greater than what people have any right to expect.

Plus...Superheros get cool pseudonyms. If I get to call myself a Mother Fuckin Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior (#mfbcfnw), then Steven HAS to have at least an equally badass and cool name ...and hashtag! DUH!

Let's see....

• Super Schmoopy is TRUE, but doesn't sound badass enough.
• Bald Hottie is also TRUE, but that's just a superficial observation, isn't it?

I think I need your help! Submit your suggestions in the comments below or Facebook, Twitter, email, or text them to me, we'll put it to a vote. Together, we'll come up with the perfect Super Hero name and hashtag for my Rock, my Schmoopy, my Caregiver! Submission deadline: Sunday, Dec. 21st!!!

P.S. Wine Man has already been used...(Halloween 2010) - Sorry, Schmoopy, but it was too good to pass up!

 Special love and admiration going out there to all the Caregivers/Superheroes out there today and everyday! 

P.S. Sorry for being so snippy this week, Steven! 

You are my Love and my Light and my own personal Superhero 

(even when you're deaf as a doorknob).

The One in Which I Explain Why I Feel So Lucky Today - and Reveal a Ninja Warrior Secret

Two days left of my initial treatment! It's raining heavily out there, but I don't know what it would take for me to miss my radiation appointment today! Oh, no, no, no, no! You don't know who you're messing with! This is a Ninja Warrior on a mission! Bring it on, Sharknado!!!

June is on Day 29 of a 30 day radiation treatment schedule! Nice try!

You might have noticed that I changed up my blog banner. It probably looks too busy (Hey, who asked ya'??), but for now I think it more accurately reflects where I am on my journey. I'm not just a mother fuckin' brain cancer fighting ninja warrior. I am seeing more and more time and energy for the other "parts" of me. And it feels so good.

In the end of September, when Steven and I received my prognosis, I was in a very different place (mentally & physically) than I am now.  Post-surgery, I was having focal seizures 8-12 times a day! I spent most of my time lying down in bed or on the sofa, and Steven was right by my side the whole time, stroking my hair and talking me through the seizures. And yes, I felt so lucky to have him there with me. (I don't know what I would have done without him!) But I'm not gonna lie...I cried a lot. Not because I was feeling sorry for myself, but the thoughts that kept running through my head were: "Is this the best it is going to get?" "Is this how it is going to end?"

The idea was so crushing and debilitating...I cry just remembering it now. And I'm sorry if I've made some of you cry, too.

Just in case you need some...haha!

By the way, kiddies, I have become the biggest cry baby in the world, I think. Sad tears, happy tears...it's all good! Don't let anyone tell you differently.

So, why do I feel so lucky today, despite the fact that I still have GBM and a lot of the unpleasant things that it entails? 

Well, first of all, I discovered that I was Mother Fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior (#mfbcfnw). So, that's cool, yes? Okay, kiddies, I'm going to share one of the most powerful lessons that I've learned as a Ninja Warrior. Ready?

The less you worry/think about things you can't control, the less "crushed and debilitated" you will feel. Focus on the things you can control. I might look badass, all bald and stuff, but the secret is: my primary weapon as a Ninja Warrior is my MIND. I can control my thoughts.

You mean, you've heard this before? You're right. It's not new. But it takes a long time to master, and it takes a lot of practice and discipline. And you will probably backslide occasionally, which is when those tissues come in handy.  But it's worth the effort to think about what you can and can't control, and focus on the CAN part as much as possible. Trust me.

So, Steven and I  - okay, mostly Steven (#myrock), I have to say, in the early days because I wasn't strong enough in the beginning - started with what we could control - plugging away, seeking out appropriate medical care for me and getting treatments started. Of course, we found Dr. Awesome McAwesomesauce, who changed my prescriptions and I haven't had another seizure since. Eek! I hesitate to even type that - I don't want to jinx myself! Sshhhh! Pretend I never said that. And now my initial treatment plan is nearly complete! That's crazy! It will be 42 days of chemo and 30 days of radiation! Woot!

Don't get me wrong... It is different. No doubt. (If you want more details about the medically side of things, click on the tab above or the link here: "Living with GBM and My Medical "Now What?")

But today, I feel more like I am Living Life in Full. I'm more than just a cancer patient. I feel stronger every day and more like "myself" - but with a more obvious potty mouth, which I've decided isn't such a bad thing.  I'm helping to plan our holiday family gathering at the end of the month and getting ridiculously excited about the arrival of our first grandbaby!  I've even begun to create Pinterest boards and send out absurdly long emails with details about these things. Now, anyone who knows me is saying, "Dang! JUNE is BACK!" <high fives to all of my fellow Type-A homies out there!>

Steven and I went for our daily therapy walk yesterday, and we had a good cry conversation about how we both are forever changed by this. There will always be the dividing line of B.C. and A.C. Where do we go from here? There are so many things that we don't know, too.  We don't have control over everything....

Wait, doesn't this sound suspiciously like something I said a few paragraphs above? I told you it takes practice! Keep trying, my fellow Ninja Warriors! Maybe we'll never truly master it. But if we keep trying, I believe we'll be happier for it.

Cancer doesn't define us, but it does change us. Not just those who get it, but all those who love the person. And it's the "Now What?" part that is confusing, scary, daunting.., But the exciting thing is...there's a "Now What?" for us, right now.

My New Living Life in Full will obviously look different - but isn't that changing all the time for all of all of us? I feel so lucky today because I am focused on the LIFE part.

The One in Which I Start my Last Week of Treatment and Talk about HOPE

Last Friday seemed like it's been a tipping point for me in my treatments. I mentioned that I started my "boosts" on Thursday, and I was wiped out in the afternoon, with a headache and slowed down speech. The doctor increased my dosage of steroids on Friday and cautioned me against pushing myself too hard. When he heard about our daily 3 mile walk up Communications Hill, the radiologist's eyebrows went a little wonky. They want me to exercise as I feel up to it, but not go too crazy. Moderation? Oh, yea! That's totally me! (not.) But I'm trying to balance my longer term goals with my recovery. Pssst! Hint: Recovery comes first! And I'm pretty sure my radiologist knows more about this stuff then I do....

Sure enough, I woke up feeling drained and spent most of Saturday in bed, nestled under blankets and reading online/watching Netflix. (Query: Is it possible to get to the END of Netflix?)

They say a little exercise can actually combat the fatigue, so I went on a little, leisurely 2 mile flat loop walk around the neighborhood with Steven in the late afternoon - No Hill!

And I was feeling better by Sunday morning.
<insert superhero sound effect here>
I made juice for all of us, walked Communications Hill with Steven, and even made lemon bars for "the guys" in the afternoon...Then I spent the better part of the late afternoon/evening in bed before having a fitful sleep (probably a side effect of the increased steroids). I may need to back off the Communications Hill workout - at least until the end of this week. What was that word again? Moderation. moderation....I'll keep trying...

Side note: someone responded on Facebook about this article about Communications Hill saying that they didn't think that it was actually the name of the hill - but rather something that I had just made up. Haha! I guess it would make sense because that's where Steven & I do a lot of talking...but if you read the article, I guess people do a lot of...<eh hem> "communicating" - and other things -  up there, too, that the residents don't like very much. Doh!

See, I was going to insert the obvious Clint Eastwood, "Get off my lawn" picture, but it was too cute to pass up!

As I've mentioned already, as my initial 6-week treatment is ending, it's time to switch into the "Now What?" mode. For 6 weeks, I had it planned all out for me, and the path was really clear. So, in reaching back out into the interwebs and reading about Long Term Survivors. I stumbled on a document from The National Coalition for Cancer Survivorship called, "Self-Advocacy: A Cancer Survivor's Handbook" (a very good read if you or someone you know is living with cancer). But this lead me to another document that I've been mulling over in my mind:

"YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN HOPEFUL" <--- click for document!

It was published in 2008, so maybe there's a newer version, but this one is free to read online, and I felt like it said so many things that I've been thinking and feeling, I wanted to share it with you. It's related to cancer survivorship, but I think it could be relevant to anyone in a very challenging situation.

As you can probably see from the more serious nature of my blog this past week, I'm definitely going through a transition period. Steven and I discussed yesterday how hard it is to remain optimistic in a world that can be so cynical and pessimistic. So, it really hit me when I got to this part of the article that makes a clear distinction between: wishing, optimism, and HOPE.  I'll leave you to read the details if you're curious.  
Aside: Don't you hate when you go to a presentation or professional development and someone just reads the words from the PPT slides??? Uh...thanks, but I can read for myself. Do you have anything new to add to the discussion???
P.S. There are a lot of good quotes about HOPE in there, though, if that's any incentive.

Despite my drugged up state in the hospital before and after my surgery, one of the few things that I remember was meeting my neurosurgeon, oncologist, and radiologist and all of them using the word "hope"and "hopeful" repeatedly. Whatever they were saying to me was probably very deep and meaningful - and I'm sure Steven understood it - but what I was mostly thinking is:

"Whoa! This is trippy!"

So,  I hadn't thought that much about HOPE as a concept until now.


Okay, I said I wasn't going to read from the article and I was going to let you read it yourself...and I swear, I'm not usually a liar, but this is so good....so much better than I could have said it:

Hope is “mental willpower plus waypower for goals.” Willpower, in this definition is “the driving force to hopeful thinking.” It is a sense of mental energy that helps move a person toward a goal. Waypower, the second component in the hope equation, is the mental capacity used to find a way to reach your goals. It reflects the mental plans or road maps that guide hopeful thought.

That sounds like another Good Will Hunting type of equation, doesn't it? I'm no genius, but the main part I get out of it is: HOPE is more than just wishing that something good will happen or expecting that it will happen (being optimistic), but HOPE is directly tied in with positive beliefs, goal setting, and a sense of self-empowerment...(plus a huge dose of adaptation on the side) <-- I added that last part. So, sue me. #freepass

What struck me the most in my first read of this article is the idea that "Hope is individualistic," -  that the way your hope develops is dependent on your family culture..."and it important to realize family differences with regard to hope."  huh. So, of course, I start thinking about the family that I grew up and what hope meant to us.... and the family we have now and what hope means to us... Newsflash: I could write an entire book on that, and this post is already ridiculous long! Sorry! So just FYI - I'm just opening up a dialogue about this...

I was deeply influenced by my own family's sense of HOPE. And I think that Steven and I have passed that along to our own children. We were instilled with the belief that if you set goals and work hard, you can usual attain them. (As long as the goal were realistic. It doesn't even have to be likely. It could be highly unlikely. For example: Anyone of us could have president of the U.S. But we didn't encourage the idea of hoping you could be a unicorn - at least after a certain age of childlike wonder.)

Bottom line: We were deeply steeped in a sense of self-empowerment. And I believe we've passed these beliefs on to our own children.

Big ah-ha moment for me: I've had plenty of willpower (I'm a Mother Fuckin Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior, after all) - throughout my life and during this shitty two months -  but this transition period is about tapping into the "waypower". The good news is that I've used "waypower", too, to reach my goals -  to create training schedules to run marathons and half-marathons, go back to school and get my teaching credential in 2003 (with four kids), etc.

But I've never applied it to this situation. I think this time, I'm not going to be able to do it alone. I'm going to need the help of my family, friends, and medical team, It's scary as hell because there's no clear path, and Steven and I are going to have to make decisions without clear right or wrong answers. Hint: if you think that you have the "right answer" you probably shouldn't share with us - at least with that filter -  because we know enough to know that there isn't yet a CURE AKA "right answer". 

But we have to "develop mental plans and road maps" to guide us toward our goal:

to be a 

Long Term Survivor.

This is one of the great quotes from the article that I'll leave you with:

No matter what befalls me, I feel commanded to choose life. You cannot give in to despair. You may hit bottom, but even then you have a choice. And to choose life means an obligation not merely to survive, but to live. ~ Nessa Rapoport

The One in Which I Talk About Thanksgiving 2014, Family, and a Tiny, Little Bit About What Comes Next

Thanksgiving weekend is nearly over, and it was everything I thought it would be and more. Emotional, Comforting, Inspiring, Exhausting...

It was the same recipe in some respects as every other year: WINE, FOOD, FAMILY & FRIENDS!

WINE: Oh, did it mention the wine? We own a winery, after all. I mean, our Thanksgiving is always AT the winery!  So, many of the guests enjoyed a glass ....or three or more....of some very good stuff.

But since I'm a total teetotaler these days, the most I can do is smell the wines.

Side bar: Sorry, but I had to google that shit and find out why people are called teetotalers. I thought it was TEAtotaler because they mostly only drink tea (which is true in my case), but it's actually TEEtotaler, and involved a stuttering Englishman who promoted abstinence (not to be confused with absinthe) in the 1800's.

I read it on the interwebs, so it must be true....Bon Appetit Article

FOOD: There was sooooo much food! And I'm sure it was delicious! We do a potluck every year so we get a smattering of everyone''s favorite Thanksgiving dishes. But with the chemo/radiation and the mix of other medications that I take, let's just say, "food is not really my thang".  P.S. This is NOT a weight loss plan that I would endorse. You don't even have to bother reading the fine print.

FAMILY & FRIENDS: We pared down our guest list considerably because Thanksgiving landed at the end of my 4th week of treatments, and we really had no idea what I would be "up to".  But there was no question that Thanksgiving at the Winery was happening. It's Steven's favorite day of the year. And what's better than getting together with the ones you love? (Hey, you! Mr. Literal! That was a rhetorical question.)

We're missing Eric Coffey in this picture, but we'll fix it later with a little photoshopping.

We had the ole' familiar gang plus some family that came from far away especially this year. I am really, really not being bitter or cynical at all. I sincerely mean that. I was so happy to have everyone there!

But there is nothing like a potentially fatal disease to change people's holiday plans. I am so early in the diagnosis and treatment process that there is a whiff of, "Maybe she won't be alive next year," mixed in with aromas of turkey and sweet potatoes. I guess it would be stupid not to think of that at least a little.  I have let those thoughts float through my head as well - and right back out.

I have two things to say about that:
1) Anyone of us might be gone by Thanksgiving 2015. (Thank you for your uplifting insight, Captain Obvious!)
2) I look at things through my own specific lens. I do most things with purpose, and before I do them, I think:

It is productive?
What is your desired outcome? Will what you are doing now help you get there?

[FYI - This isn't some new thing that I've developed after my diagnosis. This has been my approach to life for a very, very long time. I would even dare to say that this is a "defining characteristic" for me.]

So, I ask myself, "It is productive to think/dwell on the fact that I might not be here next year?" What is my desired outcome? To live a fucking long time. Like decades. Another half century would be really good! Does focusing on the fact that I might die far sooner than that help me in my desired outcome? No, in fact, I would argue that it is extremely counter-productive. 

So, I spent my time this Thanksgiving enjoying the place and the people and the moments. It was a gorgeous autumn day in the Bay Area. ~70 degrees and sunny. Groups spent a lot of time out on the patio drinking wine, eating cheese, and admiring the foliage on the vines.  Some people congregated in the kitchen as the finishing touches were put on dishes. And we all gathered in the barrel room for the feast and had the traditional go-around-the-table-and-say-what-we're-thankful-for tradition. (We are aware of how much the younger generation hates this, but make them do it anyway. Either because we're cruel, or someday they might thank us. I'll let you decide. Often they have the most insightful things to say anyway.)

I insisted on going first, bucking tradition, because I was afraid I was going to forget what I wanted to say (#chemobrain). Of course, I wanted to express my gratitude to all my family and friends, near and far, who have supported us through this shitty, shitty time. If you weren't there, here is a recap: I said, "THANK YOU!"

But I also wanted to specifically address my children publicly. I talk about Schmoopy AKA the Bald Hottie a lot, but I don't talk about my kids very often on this blog. Not because I don't think about them ALL THE TIME, but my feelings are so raw and deep. And I know that they are so strong in front of me to not add to my stress/burden, but this is a shitty, shitty time for them, too. I know that.

I don't know how we ended up lined up like this - clearly, it's not in height order because I'm the shortest by far...

I am so grateful to have them in my lives. But I am also extremely grateful that they have each other in their lives. I have never seen a sibling group that was so supportive and loving and strong. I asked them if they have a name for their group. "Mirassou Siblings" doesn't do them justice. Then again, they aren't nearly as hokey as their Mother Fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior (#mfbcfnw) mom. Whatever! They need a hashtag at least, though, right?And I am so grateful that I had the good sense to pick a man for their father who is the rock that we cling to right now. Although shaving his head has made him slipperier.

P.S. You will undoubtedly see a shift in my blog focus as I finish this chemo/radiation treatment cycle. (2 weeks to go! Woot!!) I am starting to think about the "after initial treatment" part of my life. I'm actively thinking about the "Now what?" and making plans. Which is a big ball of Excitement and Anxiety rolled up in a ball we call LIFE. Stay Tuned!

The One in Which I Talk About the Goodness in the World...and the Essentials

Yesterday, Steven and I were taking our (almost) daily walk up and around Communications Hill. It was chilly (by California standards), and I was bundled in my scarf and Steven was protecting his bald head (brrrr!) with a beanie, but we were still holding hands the whole way - all the way up and all the way down the 3 mile trek, as we always do.

As we reached the ~1 mile mark, he turned me and said, "This is the best part of my day, just walking here with you." And I said, "Me, too. Me, too." and he kissed my hand. With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I concentrated on the feel of his hand in mine, his lips on my fingers, and the sound of the crunchy autumn leaves under our feet.

Me, too. Me, too.

We were at one of the last traffic lights, and I could hear from the chime in his pocket that Steven had received a text. He's been trying to simplify his life - pare down to the essentials. Part of his strategy is to have stricter control about when he does and does not check his texts, emails, notifications, etc., so he was tempted to let it go. I admire that. But with Thanksgiving quickly approaching and the coordinations for all the family travel, etc., I urged him to stop and check it. Even in the glare of the sun, I could see by his expression that it was not good. And then he shared with me:

He has a core group of guy friends that dedicate twice a year to get together. They geek out about food, wine, life, and just enjoy each other's company. One of these men's son (only 16 years old) had passed away suddenly. Neither of us had ever met this boy, but that didn't matter. It could have been anybody's son or daughter...anyone's tragic loss. The rest of the walk home was marked by mostly stunned silence as we both tried to process what we had just learned.

We didn't have very much time when we got home to prepare to leave for my radiation treatment, but one of things that I always do is make a new paper ninja star and write on it  - things to carry me through the experience. It seems like a silly ritual, but it helps me focus and remain calm during the treatments.  It's the MIND/SPIRIT part of my holistic approach to recovery & survival.

We were so stretched for time, though, that I had to grab the paper, pen, and scissors, and create it in the car on the way to the radiology office. But I knew just what I had to do:

Never forget the most essential: LIFE. 

During my treatment, I clutched that ninja star across my chest and visualized our morning walk, hand in hand, and the feel of Steven's lips on my fingers and the sound of the crunchy leaves.

When we got home from my treatment, I received a text from a coworker/friend. (Okay, if you must know, he was like my "work husband" for ~9 years. Love you & miss you, Todd! <3) ... He had a package to deliver to me after school.

It turned out to be a notebook filled with letters and notes from some of my former students. It was passed around the local high school, so these were kids from my class of 2009-2011 who wrote me messages. Letters and notes filled with compassion, encouragement, and hope...and some misspellings (for which I accept no responsibility!) #freepass

It was so overwhelming! I wish I could post every one of them on here. I am so touched. I think I will write about this book in more detail later. These kids deserve it. I just wanted you to have some small feeling of what an amazing gift this was for me. Any teacher would understand. It's one of those jobs where you're never really sure what kind of an impact you've had.

I curled up in my bed for a little nap and cried as I read...good tears  - of joy and gratitude.

and then...
(I know! Can you imagine?)
and then...

Steven brought home a package that was shipped to the winery for me. It was an unassuming white box, but when I opened it, this what I found, folded lovingly inside:

It is toasty warm and Tess-approved.

It is this beautiful crocheted blanket from Project Chemo Crochet. [One of the secrets that no one tells you about being a Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior is that you are almost always cold because of the treatments and medications.] Please click on the link to learn more about this amazing project. I think I need to learn how to crochet, so I can pay it forward...

The letter inside said:

"...We know that there might be times during this journey when you might feel cold, alone, tired, and scared. Our hope is that during those times you can feel our arms wrapping you with the love that went into every stitch.

Cancer's a bitch, that's why we stitch. Stay strong!" 

The thought of people from all over the U.S. and Canada stitching these squares.. <more good tears>
I feel your love!

I don't know why terrible things happen to people in this world, and I'm so sorry if you are going through something tragic right now.

So, today, it felt right for me to acknowledge:
I alive,
and I'm so, so grateful for all the good there is in this world.

Since I almost certainly won't "see" you until Friday, I want to wish you a day filled with friends, family, love, and LIFE.

P.S. I cry at the littlest things now, so I can't even begin to imagine how much of a blubbering idiot I will be when I have my whole family together. But they will be good tears!

The One in Which I Reveal that George Washington was a MF Ninja Warrior

I woke up this morning, in bed with my arms around my Schmoopy, to the sound of rain drops falling softly against the window. And I was immediately transported back to a memory of laying in a pop-up camper with my family and hearing the rain drops plop on the canvas sides and the breath of my siblings beside me and my parents across the way. And it was so vivid.

I don't have a picture of our actual camper.I 'm sure my mom has many. I don't remember us having propane underneath. Other than that, it seems pretty accurate.

It's weird how the brain retains things, and how they are retrieved instantly from a smell or a taste or sound. Let's face it. The brain is weird. Magical. Powerful. Mysterious. and Weird. Which I guess is my round-about apology for this rambling post...

Today's radiation/chemo will mark the halfway mark of my current treatment regimen. I've learned a lot lessons from fellow Ninja Warriors out there that have seen battles with cancer, but one of the wisest is: Your journey is your own journey. Sounds simple, but it has given me a great deal of perspective after I first attempted to google"GBM" and got all freaked out.  Remember that? (Warning: Absolutely No Unicorns or Rainbows Contained in this Post (sort of)
Thank you to all the Ninja Warriors that helped through that particular hissy fit difficult time.

When I first got my prognosis, another wise Ninja Warrior (Bethany McIvor!) suggested that we google "GMB Survivors". I wasn't ready then, but I am now. Remember, kiddies, how I said we're all on our journeys? But this is a great lesson in how important keywords are when searching the internet.  Entering the keyword "tea party" will yield you VERY different results than entering in "tea party food ideas". These things are important to know because it would be very shocking and disappointing  for some Tea Party lobbyist to arrive at this:

Hint: Sometimes things end up in my blog just because they make me giggle to think about them. Giggling is a good thing.

P.S. I have lots of other lessons about google, but I'll save them for later...unless I get that inevitable communication from their lawyers.

So, I took a deep breath and googled that shit yesterday: "GBM Survivors". And yes, it contained (some) of the information that I was avoiding: The survival rate for GBM is... <June sticks pointer fingers in her ears> "La la la la...not listening!" But this time, I sucked it up and looked at the actual numbers. I already KNEW them, kinda-sorta. It just confirmed the whole Outlier thingy I've talked about it. That wasn't what I was looking for anyway. I was looking for WHO survived and WHAT they are doing.

I know that there are no secret recipes or cures, especially for the particularly nasty variety of Cranium-Threatening Bastard Thugs that are in my brain.... I realize that "cranium" isn't really the right word, but I can't think of a really good synonym for brain?" Oh! I know!!! How 'bout "gray matter"?

Okay, so henceforth, I do decree that they (the fucking tumor cells in my brain) will be referred to as Gray-Matter Threatening Bastard Thugs!  I'll just call them Bastard Thugs for short. But y'all will know what I'm talking about now, k?

Ninja Warrior attacking actual Bastard Thugs (GBM cells) with ninja stars! Fuckin' Awesome, right?!

Anyway, this is some of what I took away from my initial search for Stage 4 GBM Survivors is:
1) They exist! Yay! They're not unicorns! (Whoops! Sorry, kiddies! Ignore that last part.)
2) There are Mother Fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warriors who are Long Term Survivors (LTS)!
Check this LTS ninja out: Cheryl Broyles's Inspirational GBM Brain Tumor Survivor Story
3) Knowledge is power. If I want to be a Long Term Survivor, I have to ACT like one.
Anyone who knows me knows this: I'm not quitter. I'm going to research and train and use my body, soul, and mind in this fight.

Sorry to break the news to you all, but this was a big a-ha for me (But remember what I said, kiddies: knowledge is power!):

4) This is only the first battle. This is an all-out war, and there will be more battles. There will be more treatment cycles and more battle scars.

The Good News: We don't have to think about them today. We don't even know what they are! What a waste of time and energy - and I can't afford to waste either of these things.

Because I'm a history geek, a thought that keeps running through my head are stories my father sometimes tells (fellow history geek! fist bump!) about George Washington during the Revolution War. Did you know that he lost more battles than he won in the war? And he had many close calls that could have ended his life.  (You'll have to ask my dad for the specifics. He's much better at telling those stories!) But it's obvious that George Washington was a Ninja Warrior, too!

Google truly failed me this time. The best I could to was a GW vs. Zombies pic.Which is also pretty bitchin'!

Although I couldn't find confirmation of it on the internet, I'm pretty sure GW's battle cry at Yorktown was, "Die, you Mother Fuckin' Bastard Thugs"

P.S. Did you know that I went to George Washington University, and I lived in Washington Crossing, Pennsylvania for a time in my life?

Coincidence, or something more?