Baby Steps

Hi there, dear readers.  I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for sharing in this journey of self-discovery with me.  It's been a pretty bumpy road lately, and probably will continue to be so for some time yet, so thank you again in advance for sticking by me.  Some of you are friends of Joey's who have come over from his blog, and for that faith I thank you.  Some of you are my family members, with whom I have not traditionally shared such soul-searching monologues, and for being here now and reading this I thank you.  And then of course there are my closest confidantes, who know a lot of what goes through my head on a daily basis but yet who read this anyway to show their support of my writing attempts, and for that I wholeheartedly thank you as well.

A few things have come to my mind in the past 24 hours.  I've been rather mopey and seemingly depressed for the past several days, and feeling like nothing was likely to get better anytime soon.  Watching my best friend draw strength from his support system and his innate positivity and feeling unable to do the same has left me rather frustrated and lonely, but I did not wish to burden him with my self-doubt.  I felt lost, and alone, even though I kept reaching out to those around me.

But I've realized a few things.  One is that I'm not afraid to live alone.  I don't *love* it, I don't even really like it that much right now, but at the end of the day I'm not afraid to go home to my apartment, make myself something to eat, sleep in the big empty quiet room, or get ready for work in the morning.  In the past, being home alone (when my roommates or parents were out of town or gone for the night) had always kind of spooked me, and a dark and empty house had always been slightly unnerving.  But for whatever reason, maybe because I feel safe in my own place, maybe because I'm just so exhausted that I don't have energy to spare for silly fears, or maybe because all this talk of Cancer and Chemotherapy scared me so much more than the idea of just being alone, that I don't really mind it all that much, most of the time.  And I hadn't even noticed this big change until last night.

True, I spend a lot more time out of the house than I used to.  But when I lived with my best friend and didn't have too many other friends in the area (or any money to go out) it made sense to stay in almost every night. Now that I live alone, I spend a lot more time going out to see friends or family or my boyfriend.  I probably need to get used to spending some evenings at home, but that will come in time as everyone gets used to Joey's Chemotherapy cycles, as I get more settled in to my new place and it starts feeling more "home"-ey.  As it is I don't feel like spending much time hanging out there because I'd rather be with people than doing nothing at home, but that's not necessarily so unhealthy in my present state.

Another thing I've noticed is that it's actually kind of nice to make my own meals, occasionally.  Since I'm currently having some financial setbacks, I've still been mooching off my friends for a lot of dinners, but when I am home I don't mind heating up whatever combination of things out of my fridge sounds tasty and edible.  I don't have to conform to anyone else's expectations of what goes in the meal, don't have to worry about what anyone else doesn't like or prefer in their pasta sauce or on their sandwich.  It's just what I want, and once I have some grocery money and start actually stocking my own fridge, I only have to stock it with things that I want and need to eat - it's kind of liberating in a way.  Though I still love cooking meals for others, and recently made an awesome dinner for Joey and his parents, I think this is something I will have to work on and explore further (after payday anyway) as I get used to the apartment (and when my stove gets fixed and I find a microwave).

The third thing I've realized is that I'm not really afraid of Joey's cancer, or the treatments.  His positivity and confidence, and the confidence I've had in the complete competence and caring of his treatment team has removed any doubt that something unexpected will come up that can't be handled.  We don't know what the future holds, but he is in the best hands he could be, in the best mindset he could be, and he has so much support from all sides that I know everything will turn out as well as it possibly could in that regard.

What is still bothering me was a silent mental response to something I keep hearing Joey tell his audience: that, except for that silly Cancer thing, his life is now BETTER in every respect.  He's found purpose, positivity, understanding and support that he never had before.  I admire and respect that, and I'm so glad to see him growing and changing in these ways that I could never have helped him achieve before.  It's why I know he's going to be okay, no matter what.

The silent retort that I didn't want to voice in front of people because of it's self-centered and somewhat shameful nature, is that *my* life is NOT better because of this.  I don't have that purpose, that sense of what I should be doing, that unflinching wall of support at my back.  What I do have is the potential to make it better.  Better than it would have been otherwise, if we had continued on our merry way with our financial problems and our lack of socialization and our lurking depression.  I have a chance, an opportunity, to push my life towards the sort of purpose that Joey is sharing with everyone around him, but I need to do it on my own.  I CANNOT ask him to help me, as that would be unfair and would possibly lessen the importance of what I am trying to accomplish.

My own future is out there somewhere, and I don't know what it is yet.  At times it seems terrifying, daunting and unreachable.  At times I'm just too exhausted, too worn down from stress and financial concerns and worries that I don't want to proceed or know where to go next.  But it's out there all the same, waiting for me to get used to the new burdens, the new situation, and to keep taking baby steps in its direction.

I realized that I'm not failing, not yet.  I'm just moving very slowly towards an unclear goal.  But the above realizations show that I have taken at least a few of those small steps, and while there are still miles to go, I'm not lying inert on the ground.  I'm still moving, still standing, still searching for a path...

Thank you for listening.  As always, please comment below so I know who was here.  And feel free to go and visit Joey as well, http://perspectiveodysseum.blogspot.com.  I believe he is writing a new post today as well.  Love you all <3

Achieving Clarity, one Leap at a Time

Something began to come clear for me last night, as I sat at the dinner table with Joey (best friend), Sandi (his mom), Jim (his dad) and Jennifer (family friend).  Joey was explaining to Jennifer, who had been out of town until recently, why he was so optimistic, so not afraid of the process of his diagnosis and treatment, why he was able to gather so much strength from the well-wishes of those around us and seem to glow in an aura of positivity and even humor.

After several awful jokes where he talked about the fun of using his "cancer card"... (but mom, if you don't watch this show with me, my cancer will grow... [getting in the car] I call shotgun! ...I have cancer.)  You get the general idea =P

Joey, looking radiant with his beginning-to-be-noticeably-balding head at dinner last night:

Up until this point, I had been repeatedly taken aback by his attitude and attributed it mostly to the wall of support from everyone around him.  He was receiving such positivity from his parents, his extended family, the friends and acquaintances and strangers who contacted him and visited him on a daily basis ever since his release from the hospital two weeks ago.  And as I wasn't feeling particularly positive or supportive, I didn't know what to do - I wanted to see him, because seeing how fine and normal he seemed always made me feel better, but I didn't want my lack of positivity, my emotional turmoil to bring him down in any way.  As I felt, and as he even told me (not in a critical way but in the practical, advice-giving way he's always helped me through things), I was no help to him, no use to him, in my present condition.  I seemed welcome to spend time there, but I wasn't doing anything to HELP the situation or anybody else.  This was frustratingly disappointing to me, as I felt at once like a huge available source of comfort was bundled with guilt and shame because I wasn't supposed to be taking that comfort for myself but rather, adding to the pool.

I think I'm beginning to ramble.  Let me simplify, as only became possible after last night's conversation and the over eleven hours of sleep I got last night (I'd probably still be sleeping if my alarm hadn't gone off!) - taking into consideration that I haven't slept well in weeks and haven't slept more than 5-6 hours at a time - so here goes, in the simplest way I can put it:

Joey's and my relationship, over the past several years, had grown to a point where we were both metaphorically leaning on one another for support.  Emotional support, social support, moral support, and yes, financial support.  We kept each other from falling precisely because we were each leaning at the same precarious angle, and when one or the other was having a particularly rough patch, the other was able to pull them back up to neutral.  We were balanced.

When Joey found out he had cancer, for one reason or another when all would have expected him to break the balance by falling, he broke it by standing up straight for maybe the first time in his life.  He no longer felt alone, no longer afraid of being misunderstood forever, no longer worried that he would die in obscurity.  As strange as it seems to one who hasn't heard him explain this (in his own eloquent and passionate way, which I can't hope to duplicate), having cancer made him special, made people listen to him, truly listen to him, in a way that he never thought possible.  Suddenly his dreams of becoming a writer seemed not only possible but allowable, in a way that they always seemed like a silly fancy to outsiders before.  He found his purpose, and his support system, and his confidence all in the span of a few days in which he was being pumped full of poison in a hospital bed.  Remarkable, no?

And where was I during all of this?  Well, as anyone who's ever built a card castle knows, if one card moves aside, the whole castle comes crashing down in a heap.  When he stood up, I fell over.  The whole process of the life we had been moving towards was based on the premise that we would each gradually begin to stand ourselves up, with the support and encouragement of the other, until we were able to balance on our own.  Yet here we were, he standing in a crowd of supporters, and me lying in a puddle on the outside, trying to figure out what had just happened.

In the midst of moving to my own apartment, a transition which I was already emotionally freaking out about because of the symbolism of the eventual separation between a relationship that had been so (unhealthily) codependent for so long, the other half of my codependence seemed taken away from me.  He was over there, with his circle of admirers boosting him up on their shoulders and forming a protective shield around him, and I was stuck unpacking my new apartment (still not done), cleaning out our old place because he went into the hospital before we could finish moving his belongings, helping to transport his stuff out of the new apartment and into the space at his parents' house that is now designated as his Sanctuary, and going to work full-time.  I lived in another town now, and I was mentally and emotionally exhausted from trying to stay afloat, plus I had to keep going to work so I couldn't physically be there all the time as I wanted to.

I will take a moment to thank all those of you who have helped me to tread water during this time, so that I didn't totally lose it: Talon, my wonderful loving boyfriend who has gone above and beyond what I ever could have asked in terms of support, and with whom the relationship has strengthened in great leaps and bounds over the past two weeks.  My parents, and extended family, who first heard the news during and after my brother's wedding and have been patiently reading this blog and checking in to see how I was doing (not great).  My friends and coworkers, with whom I've opened up and shared in a way I never would have when I had a built-in support system waiting at home.

So what does this mean for me?  It means that I need to let go of the notion that my relationship with Joey will ever be the same.  It means I can't lament that, because it had to happen someday and because he's so much better for it.  This diagnosis, and the reactions to it, has changed his life immeasurably for the better from where it was meandering off into obscurity before.  It means I need to learn to stand on my own two feet, and that I can't achieve this by leaning on Joey or anyone else.  As tempting as it has been to find a 'replacement' for my support, to begin leaning on my boyfriend for everything, for instance, I can't live up to the faith Joey always had in me if I just collapse onto someone else at the moment when we both have the chance to jump years ahead in our gradual personal growth plan.  I can lean on people at times, can reach out for support and continue strengthening the other relationships in my life, but I cannot in good conscience lean on Joey for support, not when he's doing such an amazing job of supporting not only himself but the entire circle of supporters around him.  I need to be a part of that circle, but to do so I need to be able to stand up first.

I need to buy groceries, to start cooking for myself.  I need to get the rest of his boxes of stuff out of my spare room, stop thinking of it as "Joey's room", and start setting it up in the way that I will use it for my own apartment.  I need to finish unpacking, and decorating, and start thinking of this place as my home rather than "the house where I keep my stuff".  I need to stop spending nearly every evening on the couch at Joey's parents' house, staying with my boyfriend, visiting my parents, or traveling to see other friends and family members.  I need to get back on track with my workload at the office, start being productive again, and start building my own strength back up.  I need to pack my own lunch, go back to working out regularly at the gym, and I need to explore my new town, make friends and learn my way around.

All of you can help me with those things, but you can't force me into them until I am ready, and I think now that I understand, I can start taking those steps.  I thank you all for following my emotional journey, for putting up with my random acts of impulse, for listening to me and checking on me.  I will still need you in the days to come, but I think I am starting to see what I have to do, and that gives me confidence to start on my new path.  The old path is gone, and trying to find it in the wilderness will only hurt those I am trying to move towards and waste my own time.

Thanks for listening, dear friends.  I will ask again to please leave some acknowledgement in the comments section below, so I know you were here and that you're with me on this journey.  Ask questions, or just say hi so I know somebody is listening.  I appreciate that more than you could know.

And, as always, please visit Joey's blog, read and share and comment so he knows we're all out here for him.  He really is an amazing writer, as you'll see for yourself when you go to Perspective Odysseum.  Thanks again, dear listeners.

Stop asking if you don't want to know

Have you ever noticed that the simple question "how are you?" doesn't mean at all what it seems to?  I would say about 95% of the time, the person asking how you are just wants you to say "Fine." and go on about their day.  The only seemingly acceptable response, a polite "I'm good, how are you?" is so expected that sometimes they don't even wait for the response but simply wave and keep on going.  They might as well have not bothered to ask at all.

Sorry for the mini-rant, but the crux of the matter for me is, I'm NOT fine.  And when the only interaction I have during my day is by people asking how I am and expecting a non-answer, it is difficult not to get frustrated.  Here's a sample conversation to illustrate my point:

  Other person: "Hey, how are you?"

  Me: "Oh, not so great.  Here's what's going on-"

  Other person: *oh jeez she actually wants to talk about stuff, I was just being polite, now I have to smile and nod and say 'oh I'm sorry to hear that' for awhile before I can get away*

  Me: *feels sheepish, trails off vaguely and keeps on walking*

At a time when I'm feeling lonely and need people to talk to, this sort of thing is just starting to get on my nerves.  If you want to know how I am, ask me how I am.  AND THEN LISTEN TO THE ANSWER.  If you don't want to know, why ask?

Okay, all irritation aside.... *takes slow, deep breath*... I'm not here to yell at my cyber-audience, it's just been a really trying few days with nobody to talk to all day at work and my motivation to be super-productive in the deserted office building continually dwindling despite my guilt at being so far behind on several required tasks.  All right then, I think I'm calm now.

To be completely truthful, I think I am doing better.  Better than last week, anyway.  I'm not weeping in my office, moaning about and shuffling like a zombie.  I'm not afraid to sleep alone in my new apartment.  The furniture and kitchen are starting to have some semblance of order to them.  I don't feel the dual compulsion to both call Joey crying and whining about how hard this is, and the equally powerful force telling me that's not fair and I should leave him out of it and deal with my own stuff myself.

I owe a large part of this newfound sense of calm to my amazing boyfriend.  I don't know how he'd feel about being written about in a public forum, so I will simply say that he has been there for countless weepy and sniffly and frustrated moments, has stood by me and listened to me and made sure I had dinner and helped me regain my sanity.  He made me laugh, and smile, and took me out on a proper date to a nice restaurant last night just because he thought I needed it and it had been awhile since we did anything other than reheat leftovers and watch tv (besides attending the various family social functions of the past few weeks).

I have transitioned from feeling helpless during my visits and expending energy trying not to be weepy, to simply feeling sort of normal and able to 'hang out' with Joey and his family.  I'm going over tonight, as a matter of fact, to cook one of our favorite dishes for dinner with the help of his awesome cousin Ayla.  Ayla has a passion for cooking that rivals if not far outstrips my own, so with her help we should have a delicious evening ahead of us!

However, despite my seeming improvements, I feel somewhat... disconnected.  I've been spending so much time reaching out - to my family, to my blog readers, to various coworkers with whom I can actually talk about how things are going... I even took an unplanned vacation day to drive up north and visit my two best friends from high school, simply to catch up and reconnect with them during the limited time they were in town before leaving for various far-away lands.  I've talked to old friends and new friends, I've talked to Joey, I've talked to my boyfriend... and yet, possibly because of all the students having left campus for the summer and my boss being on vacation this week, my daily life seems very quiet and somewhat lonesome lately.  The other issue is that I seem to be working increasingly slowly, accomplishing far less in an average workday than I am accustomed to, and still have ZERO motivation to finish setting up my apartment or get back onto a normal routine (which includes working out at the gym, actually making my own lunch and dinner, grocery shopping, laundry, etc.)

I have no energy.  I have been tired every day for several weeks, no matter how much sleep I do or don't get.  I've been eating junk (whatever's handy, whether it's a can of soup, restaurant leftovers, or half a bag of Dorito's), drinking too much coffee to try and stay awake, and yet I've lost 12.5 lbs apparently.

Clearly, I'm not "fine".  But I think I'm better.  And I hope I will continue to get better, and that my coworkers will continue to be patient with me while I struggle to catch back up to normal.  As for the gym and the grocery store, I don't think it'll hurt me too much to put that off until next week, nor will my wallet complain at the reprieve if I eat a few more dinners at other people's houses, at least until after payday.

Thanks for listening to my rambling, dear blog readers.  If you're out there, please leave a comment below.  I do so need some regular human interaction, in whatever form it might be available these days.  Thanks for being there with me, as intangential as that may seem.  Not sure if that's a real word or if I've used it correctly, but apparently I'm too lazy to actually look it up so... deal with it?

Back to work now, before any more of my day ticks by without me accomplishing anything.

How My Best Friendship Began, Kathleenside

This is the story of how Joey and I met.  Or rather, the story of how and why we became friends, and the start of the relationship that has come to be one of the most meaningful friendships of my adult life.  To understand the story fully, however, you should read his parallel account, which was written in tandem with this one and will be publishing simultaneously.  If you choose to read this story in its entirety, please go to Perspective Odysseum and read his account of the same story.  Only by reading both accounts do we believe you can get a true representation of what happened on this occasion.

I’m going to apologize in advance to anyone who heard a different version of how we met, one in which he miraculously saved my midterm paper from the evil library computer when I was stressed about school and my computer was dead and it was late at night and I was so tired… That story is true, in fact, but it’s not how we met.  The true story is one which I’ve never shared with anyone until today, and which I never anticipated sharing in so public a manner, because it is embarrassing and frankly doesn’t reflect very  highly on former me.

There are three reasons why I’m choosing to share this particular story at this particular time.  The first is that Joey asked me to share the telling of this story with him, and I want to do everything in my power to help him tell his story, to share what needs to be shared with the world concerning his realizations and who he is as he continues his struggle with the forces of nature… The second is because for years I’ve felt guilty about the fact that nearly every person we meet and most particularly friends and family who are closest to me have looked down on and misinterpreted my relationship with Joey, and I have felt incapable of convincing them how wrong they were because I could not tell them the truth.  My pride and my shame kept me from sharing stories such as this one, which would have illuminated for anyone listening the true nature of our friendship from the very beginning… and Joey has had to deal with those negative perceptions of him and of us for the same number of years, and has done so without complaining, without trying to set the record straight, because he knew how important it was to me.

Until yesterday, when Joey asked me if we could tell this particular story, I had never intended to share it with anyone.  I had buried these feelings and facts so deep inside me that I thought I could pretend they were gone.  It was only in moments where I have felt the judgment of people I care about, the judgment of Joey and of the nature of our relationship, that I have realized how hard I’ve been working for years to try and explain away the doubts in a way that kept me from having to share my own shame and blame for some of the mistakes I’ve made in my life.  Mistakes which, as you will see, Joey saved me from and helped me to learn from.  I think it’s time to set the record straight, for those who are and always have been curious about us, and for those who are just joining into the story and will no doubt have the same questions about whether we’re romantically involved or whether one of us is secretly in love with the other… (for the record, it’s no on both counts).  But nobody ever really seems to believe the simple answer, so now I will finally begin to share the truth that explains the evidence to the contrary.

The third reason I’m sharing this story is because I finally feel at a point in my life where telling how I was before, sharing the things which I’ve been through which have been hard for me, and being able to see how far I’ve come and how much I’ve grown… Now, finally, the ability to choose to share those stories makes me feel stronger rather than weaker for them.  The fact that I did grow, and change, and learn from all the mistakes of my young adult life, most of which Joey was direct witness and confidante to, makes it okay to talk about and to let out the bad feelings which I had buried so deep I had almost forgotten they were down there, festering away in the bottom of my gut.

So, it all began when I was a young, naïve, 19-year-old sophomore in college.

  Here's me in my dorm room, around that time:

I had recently ended my first ever relationship with a high school boy who knew even less about dating and relationships and adulthood than I did.  We had parted as friends, but even so I was feeling somewhat lost and alone at this time.  I had become very active during my first year of college in the swing dance club, which was incidentally how Joey and I (though he was going by the name ‘Adrian’ at the time) had come to be acquaintances and even I would say, friends, though we hardly knew each other.  Here, by the way, is what "Adrian" looked like at the time:

The story starts when my friend’s friend Adam came to visit from out of town.

I contemplated leaving his name out of the story, as I am going to leave out a few names of people who might not wish to be written about, but it occurs to me that aside from the fact that there is no conceivable reason why he would be reading this or connected to it any way (nor will I use his last name as I am not writing this out of vindictiveness), the story will show that I really have no reason to try to *protect* him in this instance, as you will see shortly.

Adam was a Navy cadet and a wrestler, and he looked the part.  It’s strange for me to admit that I actually can’t remember what he looked like, aside from that he was a little on the short side but had big arm muscles.  Anyway I suppose at the time I thought he was kind of attractive, and he must have had some charming qualities to him because I found myself interacting with him (some might say flirting, but I maintain that at the time when this took place, I had no idea how to flirt, nor would it have occurred to me to *try* to do so) for the better part of a day, and that we had somehow gotten disconnected from our mutual friend (with whom, supposedly, he was staying for the weekend as apparently his car had broken down).  It got to be late and he needed someplace to stay, and as we were enjoying each other’s company (and because I’m such a nice and trusting individual by nature) I finally agreed to let him stay in the common room of my dorm.  This, of course, was against dorm rules, but I didn’t think anyone would catch us.

At some point in the night, I began to get very uncomfortable.  I have tried so hard not to think about this night that I think I have legitimately forgotten the exact details and timeline of events, but we may have been making out on the couch and I know at one point I got nervous and told him to stop touching me and went into my room.  I also know that at some point, he followed me into my room and tried to get into my bed and feel me up.  I believe that my roommate was sleeping in the next bed at that point, so when I began to protest (I believe by starting to cry) he eventually went away and slept in the common room on the couch.

The next day, I had no idea what to make of this.  Having never dated a college guy, I didn’t know if it was my naïveté making me feel so awkward about this situation or the fact that I legitimately was being made to feel uncomfortable by a guy being too forward with me in a manner I did not feel comfortable with.  And yet somehow I was sort of stuck with him, not wanting to abandon him and not knowing what had become of our mutual friend.  And also because part of his being in town was to attend the swing dance club’s big Halloween dance (a yearly ritual involving a costume contest), which was to be that night.  I threw on a jean skirt and some cowboy boots and went as ‘a cowgirl’, but it was a half-hearted effort.  Adam followed me around all day, ate with me, hung out in my room, and accompanied me to the dance that evening.

Here is a photo from the dance.  You can see Joey the second from the left:

Within five minutes of arriving at the dance, Joey somehow knew that all was not right with me.  He had seen me come in with a guy he did not know, could tell that I was feeling awkward and uncomfortable, and did not like the way the situation looked from the outside.  And even though we hardly knew each other at that point, he felt the need to find out what was going on.  He will tell you himself, and he told me years later, that it was at that point he felt a driving need to protect me, to make sure that I was okay, that nothing was going on that would hurt me in any way.  Joey pulled me aside to ask what was wrong, and when I nervously didn’t say anything, asked me to step outside with him to talk.

Joey was dressed as Indiana Jones that night.  I can still picture him exactly, with his leather hat and the whip and his airsoft pistol (which technically probably shouldn’t have been brought onto school grounds, even though it was not a real gun and had no ammunition).  I had been taken aback by Adrian (sorry, Joey) from the first time I met him because he was so… disarming.  His easy wit and charm and the confidence with which he could approach and talk to even complete strangers and engage them in meaningful conversation out of thin air seemed miraculous to one as shy and self-conscious as myself.  Anyways, on this particular evening he seemed to look straight into my brain and see what was going on, but he made me try to tell him for myself.  I was embarrassed, but told him the basics – that Adam was stranded because of his car, that I didn’t know where our mutual friend was, that I kind of liked him but that I was uncomfortable by the circumstances of his being in my dorm.

Somewhere around this point, Adam himself came outside to see what was going on, and he looked like he didn’t like the situation that was developing.  I got so nervous that, as was often the case with me at the time, I completely clammed up and became physically incapable of speech.  [Side note: I’m sure Joey could tell you from personal experience how frequently this would become a problem between us in future conversations, how completely frustrated and crazy it made him when I did this, and how long it took me to finally get over that defense mechanism to one where I could actually speak my mind, to him as well as others.]  Joey, however, had heard enough, and he confronted this navy cadet with all the confidence of someone who had a right to be in the middle of this situation.  Never mind the fact that the navy wrestler could probably beat him to a pulp if he wanted to.  Never mind the fact that we barely knew each other and that he only knew a tiny bit of what was going on at the time.  He knew enough: that I was in trouble, and that this guy was the reason for it.

Joey told Adam that he was making me uncomfortable, that he was overstepping his boundaries and that he had to go away and find someplace else to stay that night.  A further fact that I have left out but which probably factored into the conversation was that Adam had actually asked me to lend him money to help fix his broken car (a good amount, if I remember correctly) and that I had blindly already agreed to such.  Telling this story now I just want to slap my former self for being so weak, so afraid, so gullible.  I want to warn her, to protect her.  But at the time, that was what Joey saw, what he felt, what he needed to do.  He protected me, he stood up for me and he acted as the older brother I didn’t realize I was missing at this moment.  [No offense to my true biological older brother, who was off at college himself over an hour away and would have had no idea any of this was happening at the time.]

The situation looked bad.  I had never seen a real live fight before, but I felt sure there was about to be one in front of me.  And worse yet, *about* me.  I didn’t know what to do so I continued to stand there saying nothing.  I vividly remember sitting on the edge of the sidewalk and Joey handing me the airsoft pistol, asking me to hold it for him.  I felt a little better knowing I was holding a (fake) weapon, because at the very least it gave me something to do with my hands.

Before they could actually start beating each other up, at that opportune moment five of our fellow swing dancing friends (all male) came out to find out what all the ruckus was about.  They were wondering where Joey had disappeared to.  Our dear friend Andrew, who you all know from one of Joey’s previous blog posts as the one getting Joey involved with the ‘Tough Mudder’ event, was one of them.  I don’t recall how much Joey told them, but realizing that something had happened to me and that Adam was causing problems, the situation immediately became one where six (some of whom were very tall, I might add) male friends of mine were suddenly facing down one navy cadet, and I think he felt his chances were lessening that this might turn out alright for him.  I believe he left at that point.

So many thoughts and feelings were going through my mind at that point – shock, that I might have been in a situation requiring me to be saved, amazed, that I had new friends who cared enough to defend me from perceived injustice, but most of all shame, that my private life and uncomfortable embarrassment had suddenly been made public knowledge.  I needed time to process these feelings, so I decided to walk home from the dance, which was a bit far but which I had walked many times before, enjoying the quiet of a nighttime stroll and needing the space to clear my head.  Several people, including Joey of course, tried to talk me out of walking, of going alone, tried to get me to accept a ride home from somebody going that way.  The building where we held the dance was separated by the formal campus by a few blocks and it was a bit late to be walking at night, especially given the circumstances of the evening so far.  But I flatly refused, insisted I would be fine, believed that any threat was over at that point and walked myself home.

I must have realized at some point that this was not the best choice, and I think by the time I reached my dorm I was a little frightened that somehow Adam might be there waiting for me, might have remembered where I lived and made his way there.  I didn’t know what I would say to him after that whole incident at the dance, but he was supposed to be staying with me again so I did not know what I expected to find when I got back.  However, I would find out later that Joey had already anticipated this scenario and had acted in my best interests, without waiting to see if there was need for alarm.  I remember being on the phone with him and being angry that he interfered in what I felt was a complete overreaction.  He had called the campus cadets, and they had sent someone to check out the dorm building.  A campus cadet actually gave me a ride to the dining hall to grab some dinner, as I had not eaten and was feeling too shaken up to go out alone at that point.  I was ashamed and embarrassed, and I couldn’t believe Joey had the gall to interfere with what I thought was my own little embarrassing situation and not anything anybody else needed to be worried about.

Joey did not tell me until just now, but when he called the campus cadets that night, they actually had intercepted Adam outside my dorm, where he was waiting to be let in when I returned.  He had given them a description and called Adam a ‘rape threat’.  He may not have had *all* the details, but he just wanted to make sure Adam didn’t get away with being a jerk to me or of overstepping any more boundaries.  And it turns out that he was probably right to do so, and I was probably wrong to not be concerned for my own safety.  When Joey tells this story, he sees it as the time he prevented me from potentially being raped.  And up until this came up in conversation a few months ago, it had NEVER crossed my mind that something like that could have or might have happened to me.  I still thought of it as the night when I was awkward and uncomfortable and Joey overreacted.  When the campus cadets got called out for no reason and there was no real threat.  Had I known then what I know now, I think I might have seen it all very differently.

I don’t know whether anything bad would have happened to me that night, but I do finally acknowledge the fact that it was a possibility, that I might have been coerced into things I didn’t want and wasn’t ready for, that there was no good reason to let that boy back into my dorm or my room or to lend him money(!!) [that part still gets to me, even today writing this].  Joey saved me from something that night, and it was the start of our relationship as brother and sister, though I did not recognize it as such at the time.

Over the years, Joey would bear direct witness to some of the most shameful and embarrassing moments of my life.  He would pick me up from parties when I’d had far too much to drink.  He would sit outside the bathroom door while I puked all over the rug and cried about it.  He would help me into bed, give me water and Tylenol and rub my back until I fell asleep when I was too drunk to walk up the stairs.  He would help convince me to break up with the boyfriend who had been mistreating me for months after I came home from a fight at 3am and sat crying on the stairs of our apartment.  He was there when I got the news that my dog died.  He handed a box of belongings to an ex who wouldn’t get the hint even after I slapped him in the face and told him to leave.  He wrote a threatening letter to another ex just to make me feel better.  He was there when I found out I was failing a class in my last semester and would not be graduating, and he helped me to arrange it so that I could, in fact, graduate after all.

These are the stories I have not shared, the moments that defined our friendship and our relationship, the moments that made us as close as we are and that cemented the big brother / little sister aspect of our friendship that everyone always chose to disbelieve, to question and to ignore.  Everyone always assumed, always secretly thought, that the only possible explanation for how close we were was either a romantic or physical relationship, or the hidden desire of one or both of us for it to be that way.  I’ve grown so tired of trying to explain the opposite with half-information and half-truths that I hope this story has helped to shed some light on how it all began, what gave us the confidence in each other to survive and grow together through all the challenges we have faced over the years and into this great challenge of helping him beat cancer.

Joey has always been my protector, my confidante, my counselor, my mentor and my Big Brother.  I have become a part of his family, though I feel he never had the chance to become a part of mine, partly because of my own inability to be forthcoming and truthful about stories such as this one.  He has shielded me from the dangers of the world while at the same time, teaching me to build my own defenses so that I would be able to face the world myself.  He has taught me to be self-confident, to be able to share my thoughts and feelings with others, to respect myself, and most importantly, to feel like I deserve to go after the things I want in my life.  To not always put others first.

Had I not chosen to remain by this driving force, this teacher of life, I probably would have led a very different life up until this point.  I probably wouldn’t have become an officer and teacher in the swing dance club.  I might have moved back home after college.  I might have been mistreated by one or more of the male figures in my life.  I certainly would be more cautious, less self-aware and less knowledgeable about the world without his influence.  But we became roommates, and then best friends.  We helped mutual friends who were in trouble.  We supported each other when financial difficulties and unemployment rocked our foundations.  He helped me to stay strong and to keep fighting for what I believed in – that I wanted to make a life on my own.  He believed in my talents and abilities when I did not trust in them myself, and he made me want to live up to what he saw in me.  He even introduced me to my current boyfriend, and browbeat me into admitting I still had feelings for him after having broken up with him (sorry, babe), and talked me into telling the guy I still liked him and wanted to give us a second shot.  Joey has given me so much over the years that it seems silly to me that my relatives and friends could possibly not see (what I haven’t shared with them).

It’s true that we have had our share of financial difficulties that might have been avoided if we had not relied so heavily on each other for support, but I maintain that the lessons I learned and the skills and confidence I gained during those times far outweigh the value of any debt or money issues I had, no matter what my friends or family thought at the time.  I supported him through unemployment because he always supported me, through heartbreak and sickness and stupid decisions and indecisiveness and weakness, and I continue to support him in his fight against the tumors in his body because to do less would be to turn my back on one of the greatest influences in my life.  I cannot conceive of not helping, not doing everything in my power to make this struggle easier for him, to lift his burdens if I can.  He is my Best Friend, my Brother, and nothing anyone else says or thinks can take that away from us.  We are strongest together, as we always have been, and although I am now, accelerated by the circumstances of his illness, living on my own and spending much more time than I would like away from him, I will be there for him no matter what happens.

Thank you for taking the time to read this epic saga, for sharing with me as I pull these feelings of shame out into the open at last and view them for what they are: a crystal clear representation of the reasons why our relationship became what it is, and the beginning of the story of our shared adulthood leading up to the moment where he is undergoing chemotherapy treatments, sporting a new buzz cut in anticipation of the oncoming hair loss, and I am wearing a mask to prevent any risk of passing along a cold germ that could weaken him further and going home to my very own empty apartment.  We are coming into strange and hard times, but I have no doubt that we will face them together, and will do so with more strength and courage because of the friendship that has carried us this far.

As you have reached the end of my story, please go over to Joey’s blog and read his parallel account, if you haven’t already.  It’s a much different perspective but one which I believe lends itself perfectly to the understanding of everything I have herein discussed.  http://perspectiveodysseum.blogspot.com/2013/05/07-how-my-best-friendship-began-joeyside.html.

A Gift, or a Curse?

In Joey’s blog post today (http://perspectiveodysseum.blogspot.com/2013/05/06-something-is-wrong-with-me-part-3.html), he talked about his unique gift of empathy and how it has helped and hurt him in various ways throughout his life.  In response, he asked his readers (Walking Buddies) to respond talking about what makes them special and unique.  So, here goes nothing:

If I had to state what I see as my biggest strength and identifying factor, I would say..... (long pause while I think and look up some terms on thesaurus.com...)

My search brought me to this nice simple explanatory page on the differences between empathy, sympathy and compassion: http://www.stephencrippen.com/blog/empathy-sympathy-and-compassion-101/.

To sum it up, empathy is knowing exactly how another person feels (and why).  It doesn't mean you feel the same way, but you know what they are feeling.  Joey, this is you.

Sympathy, on the other hand, is feeling what another person feels.  This is hard to do without empathy, unless you are suffering from the same situation yourself.  You actually FEEL the same feelings.

Compassion is one of the above coupled with WANTING or NEEDING to DO SOMETHING to help them.  You understand or you feel the same way, and you NEED TO HELP.  I think this is me.

I feel deeply, all the time.  I get really stressed out about things that wouldn't bother other people.  I cry more easily than some.  I get hurt more easily than some.  In many ways I have thought of this as my greatest weakness, but as with the stereotypically difficult to answer non-cheesily job interview question, I will now attempt to illuminate (for myself as much as anyone listening out there) how this might also be construed as my greatest strength.

Feeling things deeply gives me an ability to connect with people on an emotional level.  This is sometimes offset by an innate shyness that over the years has manifested itself in preventing me from becoming close enough to truly trust more than a handful of people.  Those people in my inner circle, however, I trust with my life and would tell anything.  Joey worked himself into that central role after about a year of knowing each other as friends, and after living together for seven years I’d say we know each other better than most of the people in our lives know us, as we have both also changed ourselves and each other during those years to where outsiders might not realize or recognize the differences.

When someone I know is in trouble or hurting, I FEEL pain on their behalf.  I suffer, because they are suffering.  I NEED to help them, to make it better, to heal the rift if the pain was caused by me.  I am a person who cannot ‘go to bed angry’ without doing everything in my power to ‘fix’ the cause.  This has led to many sleepless nights and many a sleep-deprived discussion or argument extending hours beyond any useful conclusion.  When I get upset about something, truly deeply affected by a situation or conversation, I carry it with me for days and weeks afterwards and often recall it in future conversations with that person or situation.

This sounds very negative so far, but the upside is that true moments of joy and happiness stay with me too.  I love to share these feelings with others, whether it is through photos or stories or just (accidentally) retelling the same funny story three times because I forgot I’d already shared and was still so excited about it that I wanted you to know, again.

I don’t have the best memory or attention to detail.  Again, this is something Joey excels at and I’ve always marveled at his ability to recall minute details of everything from the location of a hidden item in a video game he played 15 years ago to what we discussed in our last serious conversation.  For me, the emotions of the conversation are what stay with me long afterwards, and the moments leading to them or creating them sometimes get lost in the shuffle of my mind, much to his frustration at times.

I agree with the assertion by many that moving in with a friend generally turns out badly.  In probably 95% of cases, from my personal experience, a friendship is worsened for having to share space and habits for a prolonged length of time.  This is part of why my younger sister and I practically hated each other growing up but have come to be friends as adults – we shared space, we got in each other’s way, we annoyed the living crap out of each other on a daily basis because of the clash of ideals and just the infringement of personal time and space inherent in living in the same household, especially as young women going through puberty, middle school, and high school, which are difficult times for a girl to get along with anybody let alone other emotionally-charged and confused girls.

There is one instance in my life where living with a friend has strengthened, enriched and expanded the relationship, and that is with my dear friend Joey.  For all the assertions that we were finally at the point where our continued personal growth as adults was best served by beginning to move apart now, I will never regret the time that we lived through as roommates, because those have been the most important developmental years of my life thus far and he was witness to all of it, even the parts I was too embarrassed to share with anyone else.  He was there when I was sick, when I was angry, when I was sad or depressed, when I was broke.

I won’t deny that we reached a point where we started to restrict each other’s growth, by being too insulated, too isolated, to co-dependent.  Where we started having trouble maintaining other relationships because of this fact.  But I console myself with the reasoning that we recognized that fact and took steps to correct it by making plans to get our own apartments this year.  It’s true that this recognition and action took far more time than they should have, that I almost ruined (and thought I *had* ruined) a wonderful relationship because I could not commit to another person in the emotional and psychological state of depression induced by years of being broke and lonely, and that it took me a further year and a half and much urging – again, by Joey himself – to give that particular relationship a second shot when I realized just how crazy I was about this guy (who is now, I am happy to report, my loving boyfriend of six months) and that I was starting to be able to separate myself and my life and relationships from those of my roommate.

This was the year we were supposed to separate ourselves, and we had worked out a plan to do so in a gradual enough manner to minimize my ‘freaking out’ about the whole thing.  We would move to the new apartment in the new town that I had chosen and which I could afford on my own.  Joey would move with me and stay in the spare room for long enough to help me feel settled and comfortable and to meet some new friends in the area.  When I was feeling comfortable and he had split living costs with me for enough time to save up some money for his own apartment, he would move … somewhere.  It depended on the job whether that would be nearby or someplace entirely new, but the plan was always for him to move.

All of you reading this will know by now that our plans got ripped out from under us and switched onto a new path the day Joey went to the emergency room and they found the tumor in his chest.  It’s been two weeks and I still haven’t figured out how to cope with such a sudden and dramatic change, but reaching out, via this blog and to the many friends I have spoken to during those two weeks, and with whom I plan to spend more time talking in the next two weeks, has helped.  My boyfriend has helped tremendously, proving himself more than I ever could have hoped as both willing and capable of being there, of listening, of taking care of me.  Our relationship has been so strengthened and continues to grow that I marvel at the ways in which a previous version of myself would have pulled away from him at times like these.  A previous version would have been afraid to open myself up, afraid for him to see me at my worst, embarrassed to have him see me curled up and crying on my bed and surrounded by dirty laundry and still-needing-to-be-unpacked moving boxes.

This has not been an easy time for any of us affected by the revelation of Joey’s Lyphoma, but it has been an enlightening time, a time of growth and discovery.  I invite you to continue to join me on this path if you will, and to let me know your thoughts, suggestions, comments and feelings as I somewhat hesitantly share mine with the world wide web – partially out of a need to connect and partially in fear of the reactions of others to my self-perceived weaknesses.

In a situation where I feel everything too much, and Joey sees what everyone feels, it is no wonder he understood me so deeply and completely, and no wonder I could never hide my thoughts from him as I did with others who I was afraid to open up to.  He saw me for me, and never rejected what he saw.  And in return, I like to believe I softened him a little, helped him to become more in tune with his own feelings, and helped to prepare him for the avalanche that is coming down the road here aways.

I’ve rambled on far enough for one morning.  Thank you, Joey, for your continued support even when I’ve been too busy freaking out and crying a lot to really support you yet in turn.  The writing, and the encouragement to keep doing so, is helping me to keep everything under control.  And the connections we are both making with our group of supporters will stay with us long after the crisis has passed.

Stay well, my friends and readers.  Please leave some comments so that I don’t feel I am speaking to an empty void.  It’s back to work and normalcy for me for awhile, but I will be back before you know it with some more words to share…

Please follow Joey’s blog as well, if you haven’t already: http://perspectiveodysseum.blogspot.com

Storytelling Adventure

I've just "discovered" imgur, meaning I finally took the time to look around and see what all the fuss was about, so in lieu of a traditional blog post today I am going to share this imgur album instead: http://imgur.com/a/1Iv79.  Enjoy, and I'll be back probably tomorrow with some more words to share.

Stepping Up to the Plate

It’s been just over a week now since I found out my best friend has cancer, and my fingers still stumbled over that word as though typing it makes it more real or potent and my fingers had some independent resistance to the idea of putting those letters in that particular order in reference to that particular subject.

I don’t know why I’m writing today except that I felt the need to.  It’s been a long time since I could honestly say I felt a need to write, and I should be glad for that fact.  The truth is, I’ve really been struggling the past few days.

When he first went to the hospital I was freaked out and upset, but managed to keep my cool, by sheer force of will when necessary.  I got my work done for the most part, centered myself for a few minutes alone in my car before each hospital visit so I could put on the strongest and most neutral disposition before entering that place which has always so terrified me.  I ate; I slept.  Okay, maybe not as regularly or as healthily as in times past, but that’s to be expected to some degree.

The past week, however, my emotional state has sadly taken a melancholy turn.  While Joey himself has buoyed me up on almost every visit with his positivity, his optimism, the sheer volume of love, caring, strength and well-wishes surrounding him in a whirlwind of protective care, with his sheer normalcy in more ways than I kept expecting… the times between visits seemed to dull and wane in comparison.  Going home, alone, to my empty apartment, which still doesn’t feel like home because I haven’t had the energy to spare to put it in order since the move, became a daunting proposal, and I’ve spent far too many nights on couches, air mattresses and visiting friends and family, Joey’s parents’ house included.  I’ve been putting in far less than my usual effort at work and piling up guilt at missed deadlines and sluggish progress.  Everyone has been understanding, but I feel like nobody has actually understood (not that that makes any sense whatsoever).

Before I fall down into melodrama, let me pull back for a moment.  The support I’ve gained from my own friends and family has been wonderful, but I have not yet felt truly comfortable reaching out for it.  After all, I’m not the one who’s sick.  I’m not the one who *needs* support, right?  And yet, after seven years of always counting on one person in particular for emotional support… that one person is not only the cause of my emotional distress but is unavailable for support at the present time.  I can’t go to him for support, because that would be inappropriate.  And because he’s busy.  And sick.  And tired.  And surrounded by his own ever-growing support network.

I’m lonely.  It has come to my attention that during the years that Joey and I have been nearly exclusively codependent in our social lives, I have sadly grown more and more distant from the rest of my friends, and for this realization I am ashamed.  I miss my friends.  More selfishly and to the point, I realized that without Joey to turn to, who has always been there to turn to, who lived 15 feet from my room and was always THERE, I didn’t know where to turn.

The answer to that became painfully obvious when I stopped to think about it.  I have an amazing and wonderful boyfriend who has proved beyond a shadow of a doubt his willingness to support me through these tough times, to listen and to take care of simple things like my car registration stickers which I just wouldn’t have remembered otherwise.  It’s always been difficult for me to talk to people about my emotional struggles, and after spending years getting to that point in my friendship with Joey where we can talk about absolutely anything, it’s hard for me to allow myself to venture down that road with a newer relationship, one which deep down I may still be afraid of losing if I screw up too badly.

I’ve got great friends waiting in the wings who are all too happy to lend a helping hand, an ear, a couch to crash on, now that I’ve stopped being silly and remembered they were right there all along.  I visited my parents over the weekend for a Mother’s Day surprise evening, and gained comfort from the familiarity of home and puppy and family.  I’ve shared my most recent blog post with a group of about 20 coworkers who I feel familiar enough with that I want them to have the opportunity to be aware of what’s going on in my personal life should they so wish, and have received some really heartfelt reachings-out in kind from several of them over the past day and a half.

I’m sure there’s some saying about how it’s only in crisis that you realize who your true friends are or something like that.  All I know so far is that it’s in crisis that you discover what kind of person you really are.  I’m a person who doesn’t handle crisis very well, at least right away.  But I am stronger by far than I was seven years ago.  Joey and I have changed each other; we’ve made each other stronger, more capable, more mature.  He’s helped me to fashion armor to withstand the tides of adult life, and by his words I’ve softened his brittle edges to be able to accept the comforts of those around him.  We’ve made each other feel less alone, and I know that I am handling this entire situation far better than seven-years-ago-me ever could have imagined possible, because of all those changes and more.

I don’t have this all figured out yet.  I’m still going to screw up.  I’m going to cry at inappropriate times (like in my office when I should be working), I’m going to stay up too late talking until 2am because the conversation is far more important to me than sleep (and then pay for it the next day).  I’m going to feel lost, and alone, and embarrassed, and weak.  But I’m going to get through this, because I know I can.  Because I must.  Because how can I be there, ready and willing to support my friend when the going gets tough or when he can’t be the shining example of positivity and purpose he has shown thus far because he is physically weakened by the poisons coursing through his veins, by the war going on beneath the surface… How can I be ready and waiting to catch him if he should stumble, if I am myself lying in a puddle on the ground?

There is no conclusion, no answer, not yet.  This is just me thinking aloud for the benefit of whoever cares to listen.  I’m here, and I’m learning and working and figuring all this out.  And if that seems right to you, if you support my struggle, if you have suggestions or comments or questions or just want to hear more, please post in the comments before so I know you’re listening.  Thank you for being here with me, for making me less alone.

Please, head on over to Joey's blog to read more.  He wrote a truly eloquent piece yesterday about us and our struggle which had me in tears, and he said so much more in a shorter space than I could have managed. Perspective Odysseum: http://perspectiveodysseum.blogspot.com/.  He truly is a fantastic writer, but go see for yourself and share in his journey.

The Words Nobody Wants to Say

Wednesday, May 8th, 2013

Six days ago, my best friend and roommate was admitted to the hospital for what I, at the time, still thought was a nasty case of Bronchitis.

Joey and I have been best friends since my sophomore year of college, seven years ago.  We’ve supported each other through good and bad relationships, breakups, illnesses, academic and social problems, and financial difficulties.  I would not be who I am today without my funny, confident, often philosophical writer friend, and I am just recently coming to see the ways in which I have changed him as well.

When I first came to college, I was a scared, naïve, painfully shy teenager.  Joey was the one who patiently cracked me out of my shell one piece of a time, taught me self-confidence and self-assessment, helped me to analyze my thoughts and feelings and to act on them accordingly.  He helped me to meet new friends, to become more involved in the club we both attended, to eventually run for and become Vice President of said club.  He was the one friend I could count on to always listen, to always understand, to not judge me.  I trusted him with all my secrets, and he kept them faithfully.

Over the years our friendship evolved as we became college roommates, then graduates working to support ourselves (and not always succeeding).  We supported each other when one and then the other of us became unemployed, much to the disapproval of some friends and family members.  We helped a young couple who were our close friends when they became pregnant and helped them raise their newborn child for six months.  We lived through heartbreaks together, worked through anger together, and spent far too much time being broke together.

Six days ago, the person I have always leaned on for support, who I have always come to with my troubles, was himself in trouble.  He had found a lump in his neck, in addition to the respiratory problems and bruising on his chest, and finally got worried enough to go to the hospital despite having no insurance.

I spent that night nervously sitting in a tiny room with Joey and his parents, awaiting test results that seemed like they would never come.  They put him on blood thinners to start working on the blood clot in his neck, which was most likely caused by whatever was in his chest that they were doing the CT scan to determine.  By two o’clock in the morning we had run out of meaningless things to talk about and were simply waiting.  The doctors came in and gave us more vague answers.  Said they had found a mass in his chest, that they wanted to do a biopsy on the lump in his neck.  More tests, more scans.  The results would take several days.

Over the weekend, I was a part of my older brother’s wedding, and managed (barely) to quiet my fears and worries about my friend enough to play my part, to be joyful and feel my family’s love and enjoy the evening, yet I checked in regularly with Joey.  Still no news, but he was in great spirits and was already making jokes, keeping his parents in good spirits and, very like himself, completely charming all the nurses with his legendary charisma and wit and that big goofy grin of his.

The night before the diagnosis was finalized, I sat up in the hospital room with Joey and his parents again, talking about everything.  About the word nobody wanted to say until it was official but which we all knew was going to be the answer.  By then they had already surgically implanted a chemo port into his chest, silently telling everyone present that they expected to start Chemo as soon as they knew which type it was.  He told us that no matter the prognosis, he considers this a victory.  That he’s not afraid.  He told us that whether he lives for five years or fifty years, this whole thing has given him the certainty that he will make the most of that time in deliberate purposeful action, and that he will not squander another moment of the life he has to live.  He is ready to fight, and he is ready for whatever happens.  And seeing as how he’s supported me through everything for seven years, I figure it’s about time I start truly supporting him in return, so how can I be any less determined, any less ready to fight alongside him?

We may as well just come out and say it at this point, as I’m sure you’ve figured it out and we had too: My best friend has cancer.

Even now my hands tremble as I type that word, that awful word.  Cancer.  The diagnosis came in on Monday while I was at work and it was more complex than I expected.  He has Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma, which is a fairly aggressive form of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma.  We had hoped for Hodgkins, as it is purportedly more curable and also more common in his age bracket, but the doctors are still optimistic as they seem to have caught it fairly early.  The tumor in his chest measured about 10 centimeters at the time of the CT scan, and the lymph nodes in his neck were the only other masses they found.  We’re still waiting on a bone marrow biopsy, but for the time being we believe he is only at stage two, meaning they can kill the tumors in a matter of weeks and then just work on making sure they don’t come back.

When Joey told me about his diagnosis, he seemed relieved.  To know for sure what it was, and how to go about dealing with it, must have been a load off his mind.  The waiting, as they say, is the worst part.  But for me, the worst part so far has been not being there while everything is happening.  Being at work, trying my hardest to be productive and interact normally while my BEST friend, my Big Brother, is in a hospital bed having poison pumped into his veins and just waiting for some crazy adverse reaction.  Waiting for his hair to fall out.  Waiting for him to start puking uncontrollably.  Waiting to see if the Chemo actually does what it’s supposed to.

From here on out it’s really just one waiting game after another, and all I can continue to do is be as confident, as calm and as supportive as I can be, because he needs and deserves that from me, and because he helped to make me into a person who can do that, who can support someone else with strength and courage.  It is because of his friendship that I can live up to my end of the bargain and be his support during this crazy time.

Today is day 2 of chemo treatments.  Chances are his hair will start falling out any day now, and he’s decided to go ahead and get a buzz cut to reduce the trauma of that event.  He was still feeling pretty well when I saw him last night, if exhausted and slightly nauseous, but we are told repeatedly about how far medicine has come and how the drugs they use nowadays are so much better than they used to be.  All that being said, they have no more idea what his body’s reaction will be than we do, and they, as we, are waiting to react to whatever happens.

Throughout this entire process so far, Joey’s positivity and strength have helped the rest of us to cope.  At a time when we are each trying to be strong for him, it is his strength which gives us the strength to do so, if that makes any sense.  I told him on the night before he began chemo that “I have always been terrified of hospitals… but this time is different.  Because you’re here.  Because it’s where I need to be.  This time I am much more terrified of going home to my empty apartment than of spending time here with you.”  The apartment, which we were supposed to share for a few months, is now being emptied of his belongings as they are moved over to his parents’ house, where he will be residing for the duration of his treatment.

Joey has such a sense of purpose now, of motivation to live his life well and purposefully and to make a difference to others who are struggling.  He is keeping busy by writing in a blog and keeping in constant contact with all the friends, family members and other well-wishers who have been messaging him since his announcement through Facebook on the evening of the diagnosis.  He has also told members of the hospital staff of his willingness and desire to share his thoughts and experiences with others who are struggling, to speak at cancer survivor events or with others who have recently been diagnosed and share that positivity with them.  He told me upon his diagnosis that he “was okay with this.  Really okay,” and I couldn’t believe that could possibly be true.  But I am coming to believe it now, and I am working towards being okay with this too, with his help.  And through this website.

On my most recent visit to the hospital, Joey told me (and a room full of family members, nursing staff and the hospital social worker) that the thing that helps him most right now is knowing that he’s helping others.  He wants to write, to speak, to talk to other survivors and people fighting cancer and to spread his positivity to them, and his attitude is so infectious that he had all of us laughing and smiling along with us.  This while lying in a hospital bed with a tube sticking out of his chest, poison pouring through his veins and making him slightly radioactive, and feeling nausea and exhaustion.  He’s one of the most amazing people I know, and I will do everything in my power to make this fight easier on him and on his family.

To follow the progress of his journey from his amazing first-person perspective, please read and follow his blog, Perspective Odysseum (http://perspectiveodysseum.blogspot.com/) and leave some words of support.