F’ing Hodgkins

I used to be a punk. A snarling green-haired Fugazi and Bikini Kill listening punk. I would freely quote Bukowski and Henry Rollins. Now I read J. Crew catalogs and buy organic produce. Did I lose my edge when I started having to pay my own taxes and worry about the interest rates of my student loans? Or did my gap khaki’s (made in Thailand!) suck my sense of anarchy out from under me?

Neither.

I thought very hard about this for awhile. For me, being a punk isn’t about listening to a certain type of music or wearing a particular style of clothing. It is about activism and true to your beliefs. It is about creating a change when something pisses you off versus standing on the sidelines and complaining about it. It’s the DIY attitude that makes a difference.

Now that I’ve gone off on a tangent, fair reader, you are probably wondering what does this have to do with Andy and my situation. Well, I’ve done my research. I can list a plethora of places for people to find support for breast cancer, prostate cancer, leukemia, etc. That’s great. People in those situations need support. But there seems to be little support for those with Hodgkins. That bugs me. I can’t tell you how many people have told me, “Oh Hodgkins? That’s the easy cancer!” And that, my readers, annoys me. It’s still cancer. You still have to go through chemotherapy and sometimes radiation. You lose your hair, you get tired more easily, your white blood cell count takes a beating. And like any other medical treatment, if you don’t have health insurance it’s nearly impossible to afford treatment. It sucks and there is nothing easy about it. I am all for fundraising but please ribbons and wrist bracelets are so overplayed. Mark Beemer, a punk rock photographer had the right idea when he started the Syrenthia Savio Endowment. As a tribute to his late wife who succumbed to breast cancer, it raises money for those fighting the disease who are uninsured. But instead of your normal run of the mill merchandise, it offers a range of things from t-shirts to pajamas to coffee table books, with the proceeds benefiting SSE. It is a collaboration between Beemer and various bands who donate designs in support of the endowment.

Now, my fair readers, why can’t we get something like this for Hodgkins awareness and support? In the words of Beemer, “though we are young- we have a mighty roar.”

How are you Feeling?

What bites on top of all of this is, that in the midst of what seemed like my darkest hour. I lost my job. I mean seriously, nothing like being kicked in the shins after you had an anvil dropped on your head. However, there is a plus side. I can spend more time with Andy. Which means I get to ask him fifty two million times a day how he’s feeling. I am sure he loves that. And now that his memory is continuing to improve, he reminds me that I have already asked him how he’s feeling four times earlier.

A normal conversation goes like this:

Me:
Good morning! Would you like a smoothie? How are you feeling?
Andy: Yes please…and fine. Tired but okay.
Me: And your memory? How is the brain, is it deliciously squishy?
Andy: Um yes. Smoothie?

Later that morning….

Me: Law and Order is going to be on in a few hours….how are you feeling?
Andy: Fine.
Me: Good. I want know that you are feeling okay. Do you want to play wii? How are you feeling?
Andy: Do you have any other questions? I am starting to get tired of your one question. You need to find a job and soon.

I guess he’s right. I do need to find a job. And soon. Some say I should enjoy spending time with Andy, however it has a downside. Our life right now is far from normal. A job would help bring some normalcy back. With both Andy and I at home it’s a constant reminder of the cancer and what it all means.

But in the foreseeable future, I get to spend my days job searching from home and asking Andy how he’s feeling. Lucky guy.

Tricycling…

Andy is asleep. I’m happy that he is asleep. The first full cycle of chemo is over and we have five more to go. It’s been nearly two months since we got the diagnosis of Hodgkins Lymphoma. Cancer is a bitch. It threw a wrench into our impending nuptials. Suddenly I didn’t care so much about a white dress or flower arrangements (not that I did to begin with). I just wanted my Andy back.

Hodgkins with a side of paraneoplastic syndrome. So Andy didn’t just get cancer — he lost his short term memory abilities in the process. A double slap in the face. Our life changed forever. His father moved in with us. The three of us live in a two bedroom condo. Andy compared us to a tricycle — that you need all three wheels in the beginning before you can graduate to a two wheeler. So that’s our life. A tricycle…all three wheels are needed.