I'm home

And kicking back, and chilling out :) This is just a fast update to let everybody know who has asked if I'm alright. Yes, I'm home, and I'm alright. I went shopping with Brody and got some clothes that are pretty, and I took a class that I enjoyed, and I am now relaxing, and my cat is royally pissed off at me.

I need to do laundry, and I need to watch movies and eat ice cream and dance about and revel the glory of life or something :P

Hope everybody is having a good week. I plan to do just that :) Oh, and Danny? Bring me the DVD cases! w00t! K, bye :)

At the University of California, San Francisco, Mitchel Berger, M.D.

He's an amazing man, who has done a lot of amazing things in his career. Not that I'm biased or anything, of course not. But in and among the things he's done, he has helped work on SPORE, which is the Specialized Programs of Research Excellence, out of UCSF. I didn't realize that there are several other programs running up there right now, primarily, because, well, why would I? SPORE is a grant-based program funded for the rapid testing on human organ-specific cancers. In other words, new, experimental procedures, medications, etc. for cancer. I honestly don't know, or understand everything that's being done at UCSF, all I know is that what they're doing up there, saved my life. And that my life is precious to me.

I don't know if I'll get sick again. I might. It's possible. The odds aren't in my favor, and they told me that. But for right now, today, my brain is showing 100% clear, my tumor is gone, and the malignant cancer that was inside of my brain isn't there anymore. Dr. Berger took it out, and the program that made that possible, wasn't even something I understand. And truth be told, I don't need to understand it. The research is ongoing, still advancing. It will continue to get better. The scope of it is absolutely mind-blowing. I'm educated, and intelligent enough to actually grasp it well enough to understand what it is that they're doing, and I am amazed, and impressed, and grateful. Above all, I am grateful.

I did what I did, to make sure Monkey would be safe, if she gets sick someday. And in doing so, made it possible for them to save others like me, although I wasn't being selfless. I've had it now bashed into my head that whether that was my intent or not, I've now done precisely that. I think on the give-and-take scale, it broke even. They gave me something I can never repay, and they seem to feel the same. I was too sick and too scared to think about it that way. And now that I'm not sick, and scared anymore, I'm just awed by what they can do, and are doing, and happy to have been a part of it, and equally glad to get to go home, and have a life to live.

It isn't as difficult as I thought. It's not easy. But it isn't as hard as I thought. I'll be going back, for another two years, about once every six or so months, for counseling. To see what they'll be setting up, what I helped to start yesterday. But it's over. And I'm free now, to live my life, on my terms, without clouds hanging over my head.

Some people are wholly suited to their professions. The good doctor is one of those people. He gave me back a life I didn't realize I had. And now, I plan to live it. Not as a tribute to him. As a tribute to myself. Because I finally can see that I deserve to.

Iowa Supreme Court Backs Gay Marriage

Yes, that's right, they overturned, in full, the ban on same-sex marriages in Iowa. So, alright California, what's your excuse *now*? Get thee off your fucking high horses, and overturn the bullshit, and throw it out already, and make it legal here. Enough, already. It was unconstitutional in Iowa, it's unconstitutional here. It's unconstitutional everywhere, dammit.

Reflections on freedom and possibilities

I realize that I've been reflecting a lot this week, as evidenced by the stickied post at the bottom of my blog, the slideshow, and several other posts that have gone up. I almost can't help focusing on the past, and doing a lot of soul-searching, while I wrap up things in my life, as I get ready to go.

There's been a lot of self-evaluation going on, a lot of introspection, and a lot of coming to terms with what will happen, and who I am. And it's been hard, hard enough that I had to go and see someone to help me deal with parts of it. I'll be seeing a psychology team over the weekend as part of what I'll be doing. In among the other "refinements" of evaluation, and making sure I'm healthy, and offering up my opinions, and doing what needs to be done, is a psychological evaluation on how I handled the last five years. And in all honesty? I haven't handled it particularly well.

People wanted me to go, and work with people who have problems similar to mine, to help them cope. "Giving back" is what's it called, and it would be selfless, and would make so many people's lives better. Because I *do* know what would be coming for them, and how to cope to a certain extent, and I am and would be in a unique position to help form support groups and organize those types of things. My opinion would lend both credence and weight, in a field that simply lacks any credible information. I have verbal and written communication skills, and an education that would probably make that possible.

And I don't want to do that. I don't want to be a shining example anymore. I don't want to live a fishbowl existence, on display as 'the girl who lived' anymore. I am *grateful*. I am. I am so grateful that I have done everything they have asked of me. I took my medication. I followed every guideline they have given me, and done everything they asked. Given my opinions, took their tests, done their procedures, signed their papers, and will help them every way I can. Until Monday. And then I want to go home. I want to go home, to my house, and my life, and stop being the girl who lived, who was sick, who was a miracle and survived. I want to stop being that, and just be me.

I want to be a college student, who lives with her cat, and has friends, and does the normal things that normal people do. I want to continue to lose weight, and learn to cook new recipes. I want to work on my homework and drive myself insane with regular problems, instead of wondering when the next time I need to go to the hospital so they can ask how I'm doing, and needing to know my opinion on what the long-term ramifications of *anything* brain-tumor-related are.

I don't want to be the guinea pig anymore. I'm sorry that I happened to be 2% of the population in medical terms, and that I can't do more. But five years is enough. Enough of tests, and of giving impossible answers, and beating impossible odds. Enough of being the only one, with no one but me as support for myself. I can't give back to the people who will come after, there isn't enough left inside of me. Maybe there will be, later. But there just isn't right now. It will *destroy* me, to try. That's why I don't volunteer in cancer centers now, because trying to cope with anything else, on top of what I still don't completely understand for myself, is something I just can't do.

I'm *not* a trained psychologist. I'm sure, given the time and the tools, teams will be assembled, to help ease the transition for people like me, people whose memories have been damaged, and who have to cope from trauma to their brains from surgeries like these. But those teams and those support groups aren't there right now. If they were, I would have been in one, and would be in a lot better shape than I'm in right now. And I've *been* in therapy, for quite a while. But there aren't a lot of people specializing that around here, and yes, I've looked. I know exactly what I'm looking *for* now.

And I sound like I'm whining, even to myself. And perhaps I am. I'm tired. I'm hurting, and I'm frightened. Afraid of who I'll be, when I'm finally home, and picking the pieces of myself up. I have to, because I have no other choice, accept that for all intents and purposes, I am as 'cured' as I'm going to get. I know, in the back of my mind, I might get sick again. But I cannot live my life based on the 'what if' possibility. I don't treat any of the rest of my life that way, and I refuse to treat the cancer that way, either. When they give me those words, and I'm no longer a cancer patient, and am instead a survivor, it changes. I'm not sick anymore then, and the little ticking time-bomb, stops. I can treat it as remission, the way I do everything else, and live.

The trouble is, I've been this way for so long, that I don't know exactly *how* to live, now. And I'm not altogether certain what to do. Where do you go, when you're free to pursue anything you want to be?

The price of compassion ("It's not fair!!!" yelps the inner five-year-old)

com⋅pas⋅sion
   /kəmˈpæʃən/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [kuhm-pash-uhn]
–noun
1. a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.

fair
1   /fɛər/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [fair]
–adjective
1. free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice: a fair decision; a fair judge.
2. legitimately sought, pursued, done, given, etc.; proper under the rules: a fair fight.

loy⋅al
   /ˈlɔɪəl/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [loi-uhl]
–adjective
1. faithful to one's sovereign, government, or state: a loyal subject.
2. faithful to one's oath, commitments, or obligations: to be loyal to a vow.
3. faithful to any leader, party, or cause, or to any person or thing conceived as deserving fidelity: a loyal friend.
4. characterized by or showing faithfulness to commitments, vows, allegiance, obligations, etc.: loyal conduct.

jeal⋅ous
   /ˈdʒɛləs/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [jel-uhs]
–adjective
1. Fearful or wary of being supplanted; apprehensive of losing affection or position.
2.
a. Resentful or bitter in rivalry; envious: jealous of the success of others.
b. Inclined to suspect rivalry.

3. Having to do with or arising from feelings of envy, apprehension, or bitterness: jealous thoughts.
4. Vigilant in guarding something: We are jealous of our good name.
5. Intolerant of disloyalty or infidelity; autocratic



Ah, fairness and compassion. One might think that those two terms would go hand-in-hand, but they generally don't. Especially not when you throw jealousy into the mix. Even if you completely remove jealousy from any equation, and focus purely on the aspect of "fairness".

When we were children, the world operated on a level of fair play, with a certain set of rules, and those rules needed to be followed, so everyone got a turn, so things were "fair". No hurt feelings, ostensibly, each person equal. That was the goal. That was how we were taught. Or how we were supposed to be taught. We each get one piece of the whole, so that no one gets harmed. There was a list, by Robert Fulghum:

1. Share everything.
2. Play fair.
3. Don't hit people.
4. Put things back where you found them.
5. Clean up your own mess.
6. Don't take things that aren't yours.
7. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
8. Wash your hands before you eat.
9. Flush.
10. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
11. Live a balanced life--learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
12. Take a nap every afternoon.
13. When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
14. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
15. Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup--they all die. So do we.
16. And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned--the biggest word of all--LOOK.

It was very uncomplicated. Everything that we were taught as children, on how to treat each other, and to interact, easily, simply. Things we've obviously forgotten since then. That was entitled "Everything I need to know, I learned in Kindergarten".

Only now, as adults, we have these much more complicated guidelines. Now we have judgment calls to make, and instead of looking at how to interact with each other, based on simple, easy guidelines, our lives are so much more complex. It doesn't work anymore, to just say you're sorry, if you hurt someone. And most often, a lot of people don't even bother to do that. "Fairness" in general has gone out the window. Blame is laid at everyone else's feet, and accepting personal responsibility for ones actions is a concept so foreign that it's almost unrecognizable. It's frightening.

And then there's compassion. As a general rule, the same people who are incapable of accepting personal responsibility for their actions, are the ones who are completely confident that they are compassionate and loyal, declaring their qualities to all and sundry. Compassion by definition is a feeling of sympathy and a desire to alleviate suffering.

It is incompatible to reject personal responsibility for your own actions, and hurt other people; be it intentional or not, and then claim to be a compassionate and empathetic person. This is not something that would make a person "fair" as an individual.

And yes, I realize that in general, people and life isn't fair. And, personally, a great deal of the time, I'm not very compassionate toward people. Empathetic, yes. Compassionate? No, not very often. I can, and do, generally understand how people are feeling, and to a certain extent will even sympathize with them. But attempt to alleviate their suffering? No. I am selfish that way, and I accept that in myself. I have a certain finite amount of energy to expend to help, and will not (no offense to the general population), waste it on trying repeatedly to help those, who refuse to even vaguely help themselves.

I was foolish, for a long time, and thought that fairness entered into the equation where love, and friendship was concerned. That fairness, compassion, and love, should have mattered, when in fact, it had nothing to do with anything. Perhaps it actually should have, but that was because I was functioning from a place that operated from the kindergarten philosophy of: Play Fair. Say sorry when you hurt somebody. Don't take something that isn't yours. And that was a mistake on my part. I was expecting compassion from people, and no one had any.

And I actually did manage, in the end, and it made me strong, stronger than I otherwise would have been. And it made me cautious, a lot less trusting than I would also otherwise would be. Less inclined to extend compassion to others. I will empathize. But that's it, anymore. And that's not fair, and I understand that. Perhaps it's the knowing, and accepting of myself that might, in the end, make it fair. Because I present it honestly, that I only have a certain amount to give, and won't go any further than that.

I take personal responsibility for myself, even when people don't like it. I still remove people from my life periodically. Somewhat like a random changing of the guard. Not a banner-like announcement, precisely. More a slow non-answering of phone calls, and a drop-off of time spent together. I'm a big proponent of trust, and when mine gets violated, be it in a small way, or a large one, I will generally pull back, hard, for distance and self-preservation. Especially if it's been violated in a way that was for no other purpose than to stir up drama, just for personal entertainment. I don't like that. I don't have the time, or the inclination, to play that sort of game anymore, as most people who I spend my time with know very well.

The price of compassion is when you actually do reach out, and help, especially when it's a risk to you. You sympathize. You listen, you commiserate, and then you give something to try and make it better. Because it was the right thing to do, because it was fair, because sometimes, that's just what you do. And the price that is leveled? Sometimes there *is* a price. Sometimes it costs you something. A piece of your heart. Sometimes it's money. Sometimes it's a piece of your soul, that you can't get back. Sometimes it was trivial, and sometimes it's something that may never recover. But that's a risk you take, every time you extend it. Because compassion, true compassion, isn't free. It's doing something selfless, but that doesn't make it free.

So if someone told me, that age thirty-one, I'd be spending my days diagramming sentences, and struggling to figure out where my conjunctions and personal pronouns and adjectives and which order I put them in, and what article/determiner was the correct one? I would have probably laughed in their faces. Unfortunately, that is precisely what I've been doing for most of the afternoon today, and a lot of this last week. It isn't that I don't understand it. It's more that I'm never certain whether what I'm writing down, and what's inside my head are corresponding. It's a major pain in the ass, let me tell you.

Syntax and grammar in Linguistics is a: exacting, and b: more difficult than I would ever have expected. Satisfying when I actually grasp it though.

Internets

Have a fabulous night, and excellent dreams :) See you tomorrow!