Admission: I’ve been in therapy since last October, working through some of the stuff that goes along with being a cancer patient. And I’ve learned a lot, including accessing chapters-worth of healthy coping skills that were somehow missing from my user’s manual.
I’ve put all of them to use over the past two weeks or so, as I approached my first PET scan since the transplant. Visualizing Dr. Spira giving me the good news. Keeping busy. Exercising. Minimizing googling “post-transplant relapse”. But yesterday, the day before my appointment, I just didn’t feel like using coping skills. I just wanted to freak out. Because I’m 35 years old with two tiny kids and a joyful life and a circle of warm, fun friends and a husband I adore and lots of ideas about a rich and engaged future and I have had two bouts with cancer and been through such crap and done 9 rounds of serious, serious chemo and 28 days of radiation and a f’ing stem cell transplant and lost my hair twice and crapped myself in pain and already am pretty sure I’ll end up with some sort of secondary cancer induced by all of this poisonous treatment in 10 or 20 years, best case, and called in every favor I’ve ever been owed and relied on the kindness and generosity of my friends to get through it and am just starting to give back and I have this nagging cough that won’t go away and I know I’ve fired my two anti-cancer torpedoes and if I relapse now there’s not a lot of hope for a cure and I’ll just spend the rest of my life in some sort of treatment and it is just not fair.
So yesterday I let the crazies win.
My options were to go an a major bender, to Xanex myself into oblivion, to devour mountains of food, to pick up a pack of Marlboro Lights and go for it, or to indulge in some seriously compulsive behavior. I went with the compulsive behavior, went to the store for 20 pounds of bread flour, and started making sourdough breads.
Right now my countertops are groaning under the weight of loaves rising, starters multiplying, soakers soaking. Vermont sourdough. French country boule. Sweet potato walnut batards. Whole wheat polenta loaves. Sesame semolina. Something with figs….still working on that one. Rye. All wild-yeast raised! There’s a thin coat of flour on every flat surface of the first floor. It’s nutty. But seriously, if you have issues, knead some dough. It works.
Anyhow. Crazies have won. I showed up for my scan at 8 am this morning (having fed the starter and taken 4 loaves out of the fridge, where they’ve been retarding overnight), waited for an hour, and then learned that the scan camera was down. So I’m home, waiting for a call from the radiology practice, twitching like a meth addict, and getting ready to bake.
Anyone want some bread?
–Jen

12 comments
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September 28, 2009 at 2:42 pm
Kristina B
Man, I wish I had your compulsions! Mine are less delicious.
Jen, i’m having trouble finding words. I guess I’ll just say my thoughts are with you, and please keep us posted. Much love to you and the fam.
September 28, 2009 at 2:50 pm
Nathan Pralle
That has to be the most constructive and creative way of freaking-out I’ve ever heard, so…well done on channeling your energy somewhere other than seeing through the blurry end of a Jack Daniel’s bottle (although I’m sure that crossed your mind at least once).
Strangely enough, I just started my first sourdough starter this weekend in the hopes of getting into it, so…that’s coincidental.
Here’s hoping that someone’s lit a fire underneath the scanner technician’s arse and they get it moving so you can get answers and not just unfulfilled adrenaline rushes.
September 28, 2009 at 2:59 pm
Erin
Hang in there Jen! As an FYI, humor is a fantastic anti-anxiety treatment. I had a great counselor in college who introduced me to the concept when I was dealing with some pretty powerful anxiety issues. If you can line up DVDs of the funniest movies/TV shows you know over the next few days, it could help ease the stress.
Take good care – keeping you in my thoughts.
September 28, 2009 at 3:27 pm
Robyn
I wish I could have one of those loaves of sourdough–to eat toasted with a little sharp cheddar when I celebrate your clean PET scan.
I’m sorry you have to wait longer. That is really, really no fair.
September 28, 2009 at 11:43 pm
Kristin
Jen, your crazies are better than my best day. I wish I could be there. Please know there are some thoughts and prayers coming your way from us. Big, big hugs. . . . and bummer we’re not there to score some bread.
September 29, 2009 at 2:12 am
Stephanie Sever
Jen,
I still think your next career is in writing because you obviously have a lot of talent in this area. You are able to take a terrible situation and actually bring some humor to it. I loved the fact that the compulsive behavior was baking bread. I think I’d have been smoking as I’m the weak one! Have been thinking about you guys and wishing you the best. I am sorry about the fricking machine being down – not fair. Keep up your spirits and I am looking forward to eventually having a glass of sauvignon blanc with you!
Love, Steph
September 29, 2009 at 3:13 am
Jennifer
Prayers be with you. Those bread loaves sound wonderful. If I lived in your vicinity, I’d offer to take some of your hands at the very least.
September 29, 2009 at 3:28 am
Jessica
I wish I had something helpful to say. This sucks. FWIW, I think using your nervous energy to make bread is a smart and healthy thing to do. I am hopeful for you.
Jessica (from CLBB)
September 29, 2009 at 1:16 pm
Racheal McCabe
Jen-my heart broke when I read this post. I can’t believe you still hosted us for dinner (and an amazingly beautiful and delicious dinner at that) despite all that you were going through emotionally and physically on Sunday. You are one incredible woman. I hope you feel the love and support coming from me, Lee and Caden towards you right now. Please, please, please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you and your family. You have not called in every favor, BTW, as this is something that can never be done with true friends who love you like us. Thinking of you today…Racheal
September 29, 2009 at 1:17 pm
Racheal McCabe
P.S. I agree with your friend Stephanie that your next career needs to be in writing. I felt the same way when reading your post. Wow–not easy to blend real life shit with humor and sensitivity. You have a lot of talent.
February 5, 2010 at 12:57 am
Dennis Pyritz, RN
Great post! I plan to use it as one of this week’s Guest Posts at Being Cancer Network, http://www.beingcancer.net on Friday, Feb 5. You should see an increase in traffic. I will include two links to your site. I will also move your blog to the Being Cancer Honor Roll for Excellence in Cancer Writing. Keep up the good work.
Take care, Dennis
February 5, 2010 at 2:03 pm
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