18 May 2013

The Rocky Road to Recovery:

Oh man, "The Rocky Road to Recovery," sounds like the title of a poor-selling self-help book for addicts. Well despite the utterly syrupy nature of my post title today, it's true. One day is smooth sailing and you're owning the oncology ward and the next, you're keeled over in the fetal position in excruciating pain.

That was yesterday. Yesterday's goal was to start managing my pain orally so I can eventually go home. Thus, they stopped the epidural and gave me two doses of oxytocin, two doses of tylenol codeine, and a dose of dilaudid; they did nothing. The pain began to cascade over me as the epidural wore off. I literally thought I was going to die. Never, never have I been in so much pain. I was throwing up; I was crying; I wanted to die. It was not pretty.

Finally, five agonizing hours and three doses later, they ditched the oral pain medication route and put me on IV narcotics with a pain button. It's still a step in the right direction. The goal was to get off the epidural, and I did. I can move without crying, so that's improvement. And I slept through the night and woke up with very little pain--thank you to a continuous flow of dilauded, a personal pain button, and priesthood blessing from Daddy and Jim. I feel great.

However, this means that I'm not ready to go home as soon as hoped. I need more time to heal before I can handle only oral medications. Looks like OHSU will be my home for a few more days.

16 May 2013

Let's get technical:

The pathology report is in! Just saw my doctors and received the news.

To begin, and before I get technical, here's quick overview:

Last week, I had a benign tumor removed from my pancreas via an extremely invasive operation. (See Whipple Procedure on Wikipedia.) This surgery was a precaution from the beginning. The tumor was not cancerous, but it risked malignant development; thus, it was better to take care of it now than to risk deadly repercussions when I'm 55. Think Angelina Jolie and her double mastectomy.

Furthermore, despite the tumor's aspirations of cancer, there was another risk. My tumor is a pseudo papillary something or other and it is found most commonly in women, ages 18-35. Oh hey, that's me. It's extremely rare. And usually it isn't caught until it either turns to cancer, or grows so massively in your abdomen that it cuts off important organs. It can grow as big as a tennis ball and then make little baby tennis balls in other organs. Thus, blocking other organs. But my tumor was very small. So small it never showed up on an MRI, just CTs and ultrasounds.

And this was the paradox. Was the risks of the tumor worth the risk of the surgery? This surgery was to prevent something bad from happening some time. I struggled for a long time on making my decision. Doctors had different views. I read too many scary articles on the internet. And it was so small. However, there was finally a consensus. It had to come out. The risk was too high. Surgery was inevitable. However, I could continue to monitor the tumor and then plan surgery years down the road or I could have the surgery now and never have to worry about it again.

In January, I scheduled my surgery for May. I thought it best to have my surgery when I could take off school and when I had no other responsibilities (career, family, paying for my own insurance, etc.) Although, I was still hesitant. The tumor could just disappear and never amount to anything. My surgeon told me that. He also told me that if I didn't want to have surgery, I could always call it off as soon as the day before. A huge part of of me wanted to pull a Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride and back out of everything. Go back to Provo, finish my degree, and live happily ever after. But another, bigger part of me, knew the surgery was right path.

Well, the object of this post was to tell you that I made the right choice.

And this is the part when I'm going to get technical. Pathology reports reaffirmed that it was indeed a pseudo papillary thingy and then it had started a peri-neuronal invasion (check my spelling there). Basically the tumor was starting to creep down into the nerves. Once in the nervous system, the fluids could have traveled anywhere in my body to birth seven tumor babies, starting with Liesel. Also, this nerve invasion would have been near impossible to detect from outside scans. So the surgery was absolutely necessary and more time sensitive than anyone thought! Well, Georg is gone, along with half of my pancreas, the duodenum, and my gall bladder. That's what happens when Georg places himself in the most inconvenient spot, near the bile duct in the head of the pancreas, everything has to be rearranged and removed down there in order to not slice the bile duct. (Again, refer to Wikipedia and Whipple Procedure, if curious.)

So that's where we're at. This is day seven in the hospital. It's been exactly a week. I hurt, I can barely walk, I can't shower, I have an epidural in my back, I get poked for blood tests five times a day, I haven't been outside in over a week, but I feel loved by my family, my friends, and my god. I hate to sound like a Mormon Mommy blogger, but here it is: I am blessed.

Anyone else's brain jump to Olivia Newton-John when I said "let's get technical?" No? Just me? Well, I am here to fuse that connection in your brain forevermore. You're welcome.

Speed Racer:

Three times a day, I'm supposed to get out of bed, don a one-size-fits-all hospital robe, unplug my IV cart from the wall, and take a little walk down the hall. Well, less of a walk and more of a very slow shuffle. Good news is, I'm going farther every day! And everyone compliments me on my cat slippers--given, they're adorable.

However today, Dad and I had a small adventure. We walked all the way to the elevators and took a trip to another floor! It was monumental.

I'm getting faster too. I'm nearly speed racing down the hallway, pushing that beeping and buzzing cart in front of me. You know, I'm so good that I think it's time to challenge room 8 to a race tonight. The fact that he fought against Nazis during the second world war doesn't scare me. My stumpy legs can take him.

15 May 2013

Day Six Debrief:

Yesterday was tough.
I woke up with sharp pains on the right side and little aid from the pain team.
I threw up.
I was dizzy, nauseous, and grumpy.
Last night, I had a fever of 103.
Despite, the number of people who bustled in and out of my room at 1AM to poke, prod, scan, and collect samples, they still don't know why.
Worst case: infection, but unlikely.
Today is better.
My fever is gone.
The water weight is starting to come off.
New anti-nauseous medication is actually helping.
I feel less pain.
I feel stronger.
I feel more motivated.

13 May 2013

Orchids from Georg:

I received these lovely flowers today, anonymously. The note just said, "Don't cry because I'm gone. - Georg." Very cute, I laughed pretty hard and then had to press my pain button as a result.

This is me publicly saying thank you to whomever. Much appreciated.

Love,
Debbie

12 May 2013

Whipple Surgery update:

Hey team, I'm in the ICU for my third day. The days are long, but I am on the mend! Still no food or water, but I walked 100 feet today. That's right, be impressed. Looks like the cat charity will have to wait another 50 years, because this girl is recovering. I hope to move to the surgical ward today. I've had enough of the million tubes I have coming in and out of my body. The ICU is a frightful pain and impeccably dull. Can't wait to get out.
Think of me and love to all.

08 May 2013

D-day:

Tomorrow's the day. Tomorrow morning I enter the operating room and come out eight hours later with a piece of my pancreas missing. Goodbye Georg, it's been fun. Then, it's into the ICU for two days and the surgery ward for two weeks after that. If I could explain the mix of emotions I'm feeling right now, I would. However, even I am confounded by how I feel.

Pray for me. Think of me. Text me funny things over the next few weeks, I could use it.

And on a happier note, my sister shared with me the best blog in the entire world: Des hommes et des chatons. Meaning, men and cats. The two most glorious things in the world. Here's a little preview:


And enjoy the rest here: http://deshommesetdeschatons.tumblr.com/

Best wishes and love to all.

07 May 2013

Still Fighting for Women's Lib:

My dear friend, Normandie, is writing a book on modern feminism, especially feminism within Mormon culture. She asked me for my thoughts and well, I was happy to comply. The following is what I sent to her:


In my grandmother’s bathroom, there is a sign that reads: “a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.” You could say that feminism pumps and pulses through my veins. Two of my grandmothers (I have three) and one of my grandfathers participated in Women Liberation movements in the 1970s. And all three of my grandmothers are strong, independent, and modern. They are women of a generation which believed womanhood meant homemaker, wife, mother, nurse, caretaker, and housekeeper. However, my grandmothers knew that womanhood meant more. They were outstanding homemakers, wives, and mothers, but were also intelligent, strong, ambitious, educated, bold, and compassionate. Humans are endowed with powerful tools for social change; men and women alike. We may have different strengths and weaknesses, but we are not unequal. Our different qualities do not make us inferior—or even superior—to each other, but jointly important. My grandmothers understood that.

The first, Treva, born in 1926, received her first Master’s degree in Psychology in 1963 and her second in Fine Arts in 2000. She was what you could call a Renaissance woman: she writes, paints, draws, and reads. She collects Eurasian artifacts and the walls in her house are filled with books about anything from travel to medicine to gender empowerment. Her wealth of knowledge allows her to talk to nearly anyone about anything, any subject, any place, any field of study. With all the books she reads, one could call her an “eternal student.” I have never met anyone wiser. Anyone who meets her applauds her for her sharp mind and quick wit.

The second, Lynn, born in 1930, has a degree in English. Her house is also filled with books, magazines, and paintings. If you meet my grandmother and talk with her, you will discover the greatness of her mind. She inspires you to read more and know more so you can keep up with her. And yet she is constantly lamenting that her memory is “not what it used to be.” Between you and me, she still has one of the sharpest minds in the world. She has an astonishing memory for details; she remembers everything: stories, facts, literature, poetry, history, languages, and art. If her mind is truly “not what is used to be,” I am a bit fearful of the woman she was forty years ago. And to be honest, I do not think I can remember a family Scrabble game where she didn't win.

The third, Colleen, was born in 1932 in Provo, Utah. However, she is not your typical Mormon housewife. Sure, she bakes, she cooks, she still keeps an impeccable house, but she is so much more. When she was eighteen, nearly all her Provo High School girl friends were married. But not my grandmother. She had a part-time job at a pharmacy and was enrolled at BYU. She was charismatic, charming, witty, and absolutely stunning. On the weekends, she loved being free and out on the town and seeing her high school friends, with a baby on their hips, watching her with jealousy. She loved it. She vowed to have a career and to never marry. When she met my grandfather and he promised her the world, she hesitantly agreed. He allowed her to finish her degree and then together they lived and traveled all over the world. My grandfather soon learned that his wife’s free spirit could not be caged. She always did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

My own mother is as intelligent and as strong as her predecessors. She has a JD and is an absolute news junkie. I’m pretty sure she knows more about the conflict in Syria and the politics of Venezuela than the Secretary of State. She is also strong. My brother has autism; he will never be able to fully take care of himself. When he was diagnosed, my mother gave up her career, her love for law and for working, to be a mother. Raising him is a daily struggle, but she has persevered through tantrums at the grocery store, shoes thrown out of car windows, self-shaved scalps, and fires in the backyard. She is exceptional.


So yes, I am a feminist. Coming from a line of empowered women, how could I not be? I believe women are equal to men. I believe that women are entitled to equal respect and equal opportunities. However, women are not the same as men. And never should be. I am irked that in order to gain respect in business or politics, women often have to be like men. To taken seriousky we have to dress more masculine, have a severe haircut, and hide our femininity In the workplace. If we wear flattering office dresses that hug our curves and bright lipstick that makes us look pretty, then were overlooked in serious conversation. We are overlooked as superficial women who are there to look good, but not contribute intellectually--because beauty means no brains. We make up for this by being more aggressive and more assertive than our male counterparts. And then, of course, the pendulum swings the other way and we're called bossy or bitchy. so we revert back to shorter hair and looser pant suits. This is a sad reality because a woman’s strength is her feminity. It differentiates us from men and that is vital. I do not expect a woman to do the job of a CEO the same as a man; she should do the job as a woman. Society needs women in those positions—not because it is "correct"—because we need the influence of women.

I do not necessarily subscribe to the idea that women are more emotional than men. Maybe we are, maybe we are not. I think it may vary person to person, disregarding gender. Perhaps women are merely better at articulating our emotions and thus we seem more emotional. I don’t know.  However, I do know that women possess a tenderness that is unique to our sex. We have an innate ability for empathy, for compassion, and for love. These are gifts of motherhood. Whether or not we have children does not matter, all women are endowed with this power. It is this quality that is vital to the success of society. The world needs women in business, in government, in higher education, and in leadership. I fear sounding like J.K. Rowling when I say this, but the ability to love is the most powerful force in the world. Women have that ability. Men have the innate ability to love too, of course, but men tend to compartmentalize emotions from business. Women don't, we blend it all together and our emotions coupled with logic guide our decisions. Society needs this kind of thinking included in our decisionmaking processes. Research (thanks to Valerie Hudson) shows that when women are involved in decisionmaking in government, a country is better off economically, socially, and politically. A government is more secure and stable when there are high rates of female political participation.

I am a feminist because morally it is right and because it is logically sound. Around some (most?) students at BYU, when you say the word “feminist,” a certain image is conjured: a grunge-y girl with long, unkept hair, hippie clothes, no bra, hairy legs, and a deep hatred for men. This woman is likely to be offended at the thought of a man opening a door for her, paying for her meal, or complimenting her beauty. She is fighting for the right to wear pants to church and to hold the priesthood. And yes, this picture is not unwarranted. However, this is only one branch of feminism. There are other, broader definitions. In fact—and this is shocking to many boys at BYU—men can be feminists too. Finally, to those who think that sexism is in the past—a storyline for an episode of Mad Men, but not today’s reality—look around.


In Mormon culture, we strain the importance of family, of fatherhood, and of motherhood. We are often criticized for our traditional, patriarchal society as oppressive to women. And if it is, then that is an unfortunate cultural practice, not a doctrinal belief. In the Church, men and women are equal. We may have different roles, but we are equal. Most importantly, we are entitled to the same exaltation. In the next life, women and men will receive the same glory and blessings. Gender in no way inhibits eternal salvation. The grace of God saves us as equals. 

Is there still room for improvement in how we practice gender equality in the church? Yes. Are there things I would like to see changed? Yes. Do I think we should have women in non-priesthood callings that have been traditionally only male for inconcievable reasons beyond tradition? Yes. But are women lesser than men in the eyes of our Heavenly Father? Absolutely not.

Finally, I do not pretend that motherhood is not a stressed priority for women in the Church. I have sat through enough Relief Society lessons to know that motherhood is a “divine gift” and a “blessed miracle.” As cynical as I can be about it, it is true. I believe that motherhood is our gift and calling in this life or in the next. If the world is trying to marginalize the importance of motherhood, infer that it is old-fashioned or out-dated, or that it is a man’s trap, then shame on the world. Motherhood is divine; it is sacred. However, it is not our only gift or our only calling. There is more. A woman is more. I cringe any time I hear a young woman say that she “just wants to be a mom.” To be just a mom is to reject your potential. It is like removing one book from the bookcase and then throwing the rest away. And yes, a mother is a nurse, a teacher, a therapist, a cook, a mentor, and many more. However, if you’re thirty-five and all you have to talk about at parties is your children and how you recently redecorated your house, you are not meeting your potential. Have hobbies, interests, ambitions, passions, and talents. Be interesting. Be deep. Be accomplished. God has given you the skills, use them. I am a feminist because I believe in women’s role in pacifying the world. Our attuned intuition and aptitude for tenderness and love do not make us weak, but give us power. And the world needs that power.

06 May 2013

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives:

My friend recently told me that my life resembled the life of someone on Days of Our Lives: romantic weekends with foreign lovers, operations on rare tumors, and travels to exotic places. All I need now is a hot male nurse/doctor to fall in love with me while I'm in the hospital. Maybe we can have a steamy affair in the middle of the night in the nurse's break room. And then we'll run away together at the end of the summer and marry in Monaco.

Well, a girl can dream.
Mmm a young George Clooney could definitely speed along my recovery.
Although ER reruns will probably have to suffice.

26 April 2013

New York City adores me and I adore it:

A month ago, I traveled with my lovely Model United Nations team to spend four days in a grueling academic conference and five days roaming the city doing whatever we pleased. My bedmate and instant friend, Elisabeth, became my travel companion. Both of us had been to New York City previously, so all the top tourist sites were already checked off the list. Thus, together we mastered the subway system, sought out the best brunch places, toured museums, visited fancy parks, and wore our poshest trench coats around the city.

Below are the highlights:

New York's men in blue at the St. Patrick's Day parade.

Bagpipers at the parade. (But wait, bagpipers are Scottish, not Irish. Whatever,  they're cool.)
Obligatory Times Square picture post Latin clubbing. Thanks Carlos.

Bloomingdale's and their live models.

This is what I hope heaven looks like. Argosy Used Books.

Don Draper hunting on Madison Avenue.

Next trip: Athens.


Teddy Roosevelt and me hanging outside the Met.

An imported Egyptian tomb. Imhotep?

Hello, Marie Antoinette.
Gourmet macaroni and cheese. I could eat this all day.

My boys.

Meet Adam, representing Morocco, and our best delegate.

Posh bar with my German love.

Literally winning every award they offer.

UN Headquarters.

Central Park. Yes, Serena and Chuck were here.

Meatpacking District's skyline.

The city suits me.