I’m going to be vague because this is terrifying. Don’t panic. It’s only scary because these are my greatest fears:
- Alex dying
- Water
- People on the internet giving me unsolicited medical advice
It’s been an eventful year. Well. All my years are eventful. But this one has been eventful in a very grown up sort of way. Can’t lie, I’m not a fan.
So, three days after we said Goodbye to Zola my lady doctor called me. For the men in the room, this is NOT WHAT YOU WANT. You never ever ever want your lady doctor to call you. I’d had a hastily scheduled appointment the previous week to order a new IUD (which stands for I Ultimately Decide*) but now here I was, feeling terribly sorry for myself because it was the first day I’d go home to a Zola-less home, and my doctor was using a word that’s worse than your dog dying.
Cancer.
Six weeks later, I can give you a spoiler if you don’t feel like reading the rest of this: I don’t have invasive cancer. But holy shit, there were no spoilers for me in all those weeks of waiting. Just appointments and biopsies and tests and surgery and the looming possibility of no longer getting to make my own choice about whether or not I want to ever have a baby.
But it turns out I’m mostly okay. More on that later.
Here’s what I find interesting about this entire ordeal: It was like a testing ground for some major shifts I’ve made in my life. Because this was me after I hung up the phone:
Thought #1: Oh my god, I must have done something to deserve this.
Thought #2: That is bullshit! That’s not how anything works! You don’t deserve bad things to happen to you!
Thought #3: Oh my god, I’m going to become a vegan.
This was closely followed by an even more surprising thought. Surprising because it popped into my head without any bidding or coercion.
Thought #4: I don’t want to be sick. I like myself.
I felt that in my bones. Holy shit, I care about myself. I like my life, I like who I am, I like my body, I want to be okay.
Like most of the significant changes or developments I’ve gone through, the thought of changing how I treat myself as a physical entity seemed impossible, laughable, trivial, and unsustainable– until it happened all at once. Something in my brain just clicked like Neo in the Matrix training simulation. Except instead of “I know Ju Jitzu” it was “I’m vegan.”
Except not really
Because Cheezits**. I called myself (to myself) a Cheezit Vegan for a couple weeks, simply because it amused me. But I’m not really up for the pressure of the V word (though I shall happily order from their section on the menu and fall prey to all their marketing strategies) because the idea of labeling myself as anything gives me a Duggar Family level of full body shudder.
So even though I’m eating a *clears throat* Whole Foods Plant-Based Diet (aka no animal protein) and feeling a measure of relief that I’m slightly less involved in the destruction of our planet, I can’t call myself a vegan because– I don’t know, someday I might just need to eat some cheese. Who’s to say? I like to let life surprise me.
I’ll tell you this, though: It’s fun when we’re driving outside the city on a highway and there are cows because now I get to shout “hey, I don’t eat you anymore!” in addition to my standard “moooooooo!”
Here’s a thing I’ve learned
Some people cannot fucking handle the idea of another person opting out of eating things they still want to eat. I haven’t gone out of my way to tell a single soul (until now, hi, thousands!) it just comes up in day-to-day life and a few of my fellow humans have gotten all up in their feeeeeelings about it. But guys, I’m not judging. Have you seen my life? Yikes.
Being a Mediocre Cheezit Vegan Whose Hiking Boots Are Leather has given me an entire new category of thought to occupy my mental energy.
New thought #1: If I no longer eat kaasaggio robusto gouda by the fistfuls, then who am I?
New thought #2: Why did I think it was normal to eat food that made me feel bad?
When we were in Santa Fe a couple weekends ago I deviated slightly from my safeguards, ate two onion rings, and was sick for 18 hours. Touche, guts.
Here’s the thing: I view my life like a story with an underlying narrative that weaves my past with the future I’m trying to create. And I’ve come to realize that when I don’t learn my lesson the first time, the next attempt at the same lesson will cost me more. So I’m good, universe. I hear you.
While I don’t have invasive cancer I do still have A Situation and these unsettling words: “the margins weren’t clear.” But my doctor is giving me the better part of a year to see what impact I can have on My Situation through lifestyle changes.
You know what that means: My truest self– which is obsessive, prone to exhaustive research, and indefatigable in the face of anything that wants to take from me– is like “I SHALL HEAL MYSELF WITH INSTAGRAM MEMES, CASHEW CHEESE, AND ONE OF THE MANY MEDITATION APPS ALREADY DOWNLOADED ON MY PHONE.”
It would have been nice to get a 100% all clear from the doctor. But, if I’m honest, the puppet master in my head is kind of cool with it. Because that scary bit left behind is like a memento mori, a pebble in my shoe to remind myself to occasionally get outside my brain and remember I also have other body parts to maintain.
When I know better, I do better. I’ve seen this work a thousand times and I don’t think it will ever stop. I learn my lesson, improve in one area, celebrate that triumph, then identify the next thing that’s horribly wrong with me and in need of fixing. What fun! I will never be bored, with so many internal disasters in need of remedy.
One more thing that needs to be said.
I’m navigating this entire thing from the peaks of privilege. The only reason I’m not facing the removal of my organs and radiation is because I have health insurance, access to an IUD (thanks, Obama!) and a $$$Greenwood Village$$$ doctor who caught it early enough. I have a job that doesn’t care if I have to take time off. I don’t have kids’ schedules or priorities to work around while figuring out how to care for myself and whilst my deductible is high as shit I have a maxed out HSA because I like the tax break.
After surgery, Alex drove me home and we spent the rest of the day watching The Office on the couch. Privilege, privilege, privilege.
Which is why it makes me SO INCREDIBLY MAD that people want to defund Planned Parenthood or chain themselves around their buildings to prevent patients from getting inside (these used to be my people, by the way– but I learned better so now I do better) because I know how much of a toll this took on me– it was scary, painful, derailed all the other things I had going on in my life– despite having a savings account, support from Alex, and access to care.
What I’m dealing with affects lots and lots of women, trans men, and non-binary people. In America and elsewhere. Focusing on my home turf for a second: there are a lot of people out there right now working their asses off to achieve objectives that would make it much harder for people in less privileged positions to access an even lower standard of care than I received. People will die if they get their way. The realization that human beings in 2019 want to make surviving life that much harder for people who are already up against the odds makes me want to burst into flames and burn their entire world down.
But I’m supposed to be chill af now. It’s part of my recovery. So… fewer flames, more systematic efforts to destroy you from the inside, etc.
Which reminds me: Those of you who have the same reproductive organs as me, don’t skip your appointments! And regardless of your body parts, maybe just take care of yourself?
It’s also a great reminder of that quote we stitch on tote bags, bumper stickers, and coffee cups: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle”
It’s true. There were times I wished I could wear a sign that said “CAUTION: FRAGILE.” I prefer not to share the details with people I work with, etc. until someone said “where were you Monday, a job interview?” and I was like “I HAD A PART OF MY BODY CUT OUT OF ME.” So, yeah. We should remember everyone has their own shite going on, whether they breathe a word of it or not.
Because maybe I didn’t post anything about this on social media but I know it really happened because the bills are starting to arrive.
A Parting Note
Over the last six months– with Alex getting laid off, a bunch of other stuff getting messed up, losing Zola, and now this– I’ve come to suspect someone out there is putting a hex on me. Seriously, just two days after getting the (mostly) good news from my doctor I lost control of my car in the snow, spun a 360 across four lanes on the highway, and ended up facing the wrong direction on the opposite shoulder. Bad luck? Nah. I missed two concrete barriers, a semi, a tow truck, and a small black car whose driver I briefly made eye contact with. Sounds like good luck to me.
So, guess what: You can keep your hexes. This shit isn’t sticking to me because I’m channeling Gene Hackman toward (but not at) the end of the Royal Tenenbaums:
“This illness, this closeness to death… it’s had a profound effect on me. I feel like a different person, I really do.”
“…you were never dying.”
“But I’m gonna live.”
*Okay, it really stands for Intrauterine Device and it’s the reason I don’t have a baby and also haven’t had a period in five years. Bonus!
**I know there are vegan Cheezits, but I already did a blind test months ago out of curiosity and with rigor and reproducibility I can confidently inform you: Vegan Cheezits are sad cardboard confetti and real Cheezits are proof of a loving God.
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I’m thankful you’re going to be ok, Aussa, Cheezit veganhood notwithstanding 🙂
Thank you, AJ. I can do anything, so long as there are Cheezits.
Oh, Aussa. So much love to you. What a scary ordeal to have gone through. I am glad you are okay and thank you for the reminder to take care of myself. It’s easy to overlook ourselves when life gets chaotic.
Thank you, Bri! (My phone tried to correct that to Bro, which could have been fun)
It’s a scary business when the ‘C’ word is spoken from a doctor. I know, I went through it too. It will and does make you think of your body more, that’s the truth. I’m glad you are ok. Zola has my husband to play with now, she will see you later down the road…….stay strong my friend. Sending out good vibes.
Ugh, I hate that anyone has to go through this kind of stuff (and far worse than mine, obviously). I am definitely glad for the take care of yourself reminder, though. I hate hate hate the feeling of regret, so trying to prevent that for Future Aussa just in case.
Sending good vibes back to you as well 💜💜💜
Oh Aussa, that’s a scary diagnosis, but thankfully you have the, ahem, privilege you need in order to survive this ordeal. As a woman who has had scares before and has been told that it’s not *if* I get cervical cancer, it’s *when*, I have to say that the diagnosis still scares me shitless. Good vibes your way, hang in there, enjoy your newfound veganism. Kudos to you, I like meat waaay too much to become a vegetarian even, much less a cheez-it vegan.
Good vibes back to you as well, Leah! And yeah, the meat thing— I 100% wouldn’t be on board with this if it hadn’t become immediately easy for me. I don’t like suffering hahahahah
You write so powerfully.
Last night I had a dream about my therapist having her cancer come back and today I read about my little baby sis going through this. Can you say… Dave is a wreck!? I wish I had known so I could be extra stupid to make you laugh more. Glad you are doing what is necessary to take care of yourself.
This does just reinforce the need for Alex to get a job at a hotel here in CT so I can keep an eye on you!
I just had tests to confirm a gout flare up and they show kidney functions are off(on top of the damned gout). So I need a follow up to see what is what with that. No idea if it is the equivalent of a stubbed toe or gangrene.
Keep doing what you need to and sneak in a little cheese(and maybe some fish) now and then. Love ya baby sis!
So here’s the thing. If you haven’t added Miyoko’s to your ninja-vegan regimen, you are seriously missing out, my friend. Her garlic chive spread is good enough to make you smack grandmom. And I’m not into vegan things, so that’s telling you how good it is.
Beyond that superficial foodie share, I’m sending tons of hugs. Love your words, even when they are tough.
OMG WE BUY THEM TWO AT A TIME. Both Alex and I are obsessed with Miyoko’s chive cashew spread. I would try anything and everything they make haha.
Glad you’re going to be okay. Here’s to a speedy recovery. Don’t worry I will pick up the slack and only eat double cheeseburgers from now on. Always enjoy your writing and travel stories.
Aussa, so glad that the news is tentatively “good”. Maybe I should shift to mostly-vegan before I have to go through six weeks of hell. Here’s to a good year from now.
Take care of yourself, Aussa. You’re a special lady and the world needs you in it. I’m glad things are trending in a positive direction for you with this scare, and so many of us are here for you, if you need anything. I don’t know enough about veganism to comment on that aspect of your post, so I shall walk away now. Best to you and Alex, friend.
Sorry you have this crap to go through, but glad it’s going well so far.
White Cheddar Cheezits are my fave.
You know how thought #3 was like a bodily reaction to the awareness that you had this specific problem? I’ve had that twice, over the same problem. I was working in the warehouse and got a pain in my side that wouldn’t go away. Stretching, resting, walking, sleeping, water, food, no effect. Then the third day it was there it just hit me “You don’t smoke cigarettes any more.” I stopped, and the pain went away. But that wasn’t the end of it, because a few months later someone kicked our door in and stole both of my electric guitars, Briana’s bass, and our computer, and while we were waiting for the cops to come tell us they couldn’t help, Briana lit a Camel, and I asked if I could bum one and all of the sudden I smoked again.
Fast forward two years and the pain came back, only worse, and my liver swelled up and left me slumped over a pile of pillows for three days when I should have been at work, and I haven’t smoked anything of any kind since then eleven years ago. That problem did go away, but I had a stroke six months later, and yes, I did discover that I wanted to live, even disabled, and that I wished that I had come to that realization maybe a year earlier and gone to the doctor who could have told me about my elevated blood pressure.
And if I’d had health insurance, maybe I would have.
But honestly? Probably not. Maybe I knew on some level that I wasn’t as indestructible as I used to be, but go to a doctor when I didn’t even need stitches? Not likely.
There is a word for people who have the attitude I had for twenty years: idiots.
I know that now. I know about the healthcare professionals who get up every day and fix the idiots who avoid them until it’s too late and something catastrophic goes wrong, and now that I owe my life to them I do try to be less self destructive. Pete Townshend, of all people, said “Don’t you abuse that body, it’ll snap without assistance, my friend.”
I do still eat meat, and drink strawberry soda, but I can see the writing on the wall, so to speak, and I admit those days are numbered.
The privilege I operate from is the ability, probably inherited from my father, to change my behavior when I need to. He smoked cigarettes from childhood, and the day the surgeon general announced that smoking was linked to lung cancer, he put out his cigarette, threw the pack in his pocket away, and went back to the article about it in Newsweek magazine.
My mom, on the other hand, struggled for years before she finally quit.
My friend Zsuzs is a vegetarian, and she eats well. It used to be a challenge to cook for her, especially when she couldn’t eat gluten, but I managed to make things she liked, and in the process learned the very basics I’ll need to know to go that way myself. We’ll see.
May your new diet open new culinary vistas for you and run your health issues right out of the way of living your life.
I have been through the C scare myself, and ended up having my lady parts removed to resolve a host of issues and to hopefully keep C away. I am happy for your results and will keep good thoughts that things continue to go well.
I had not heard about Zola, my deepest sympathies, a good dog is better than the majority of humans in our lives.
If you need to vent to someone who has been there, you know where to find me.
First of all, big hug and right on with your PP shout out and noted privilege.
And from my perch of more years and a few C episodes and terrible events at every turn, I think we all (most of us) just have those shit times all squished together. Sorry you’ve had one and may this be the end of it. And hang onto that splendid wit and sense of humor. Wishing you blue skies and grand health ahead.
I’m hoping for the very best for you. And anyone who loves Cheezits is ok with me
So glad you’re okay Aussa! And thank you for sharing this. I too come from privilege and yet, the state of this country has forced my little family of four to cancel our outrageously expensive medical coverage. Sending positive thoughts to my lady parts and yours that they stay strong and healthy.
I’ve had some bad news along those lines. Not lucky enough to keep my bits but I don’t actually know if that is lucky or unlucky. Keep healing, keep well. Know that you have a tribe of people pulling for you!
XOXO
OK, I saw this and was like: Wait, isn’t there something you should do with it?
Oh yeah, go show it to Aussa in case she hasn’t seen it:
The C-word is terrifying, I say watching my husband receive his first chemotherapy infusion for pancreatic cancer. I’m glad you will be ok, and have kept your head Nd humor throughout your ordeal(as has my husband). Keep it up!
Aussa, sending you squishy hugs. Enjoy your chickpea life with a side of cashew butter and I hope it wards away the evils in your nethers. When you get those clean margins back, Cheezits will be there for you. So will we. <3