Category Archives: Death

no line on the horizon

Posted on October 28, 2010 by Emily

Following my hysterectomy in the early days of winter, 2008, my oncologist presented us with two treatment “options.” In my haze and numbness, I was largely unable to absorb information; Mike became my eyes and ears, as well as my … Continue reading →

Posted in adoption, Death, fellow fighters, First Descents, Life After Cancer | Tagged acceptance, adoption, CA125, denial, destination, five-year survival rate, Grim Reaper, horizon, hysterectomy, Lemondrop, magical thinking, Mike, ovarian cancer, PATCO, realism, Sarah Sadtler Feather, scans, scopes, statistics | 8 Comments

dreams, whiplash and pre-scope anxiety (oh my!)

Posted on October 7, 2010 by Emily

It is expected and logical that the eve of two surveillance scopes (lower and upper GI in a delicious one-two punch) would find me in a somewhat heightened state of anxiety. The psychological whiplash goes something like this: Spend an … Continue reading →

Posted in adoption, Death, First Descents, Life After Cancer, medicine, running, Work | Tagged 10K, adoption seminar, anxiety, buzz-kill, colonoscopy, Dali, David Cronenberg, Denver Marathon, Dr. Chu, First Descents, going nuclear, HNPCC, NLDS, Nurse Sarah, Paul Thomas Anderson, recurrence, referrals, upper endoscopy | 1 Comment

my left foot (or, what’s compulsive after cancer?)

Posted on September 6, 2010 by Emily

Today started with barking, dog wrestling and a power outage. We just spent ten days taking care of our friends’ Pomapoo, who loved to begin each day with a vigorous yet playful attack on our own aging basset hound. High-pitched … Continue reading →

Posted in adoption, cycling, Death, fellow fighters, Life After Cancer, running | Tagged adoption, basset hound, buzzing, coffee with chicory, compulsive, cycling, genetic mutation, life expectancy, MS 150 CIty to Shore, mums, neuropathy, Pomapoo, power outage, prognosis, PSE&G, running, Sarah Sadtler Feather, weed whacking | 4 Comments

twice if you’re lucky

Posted on July 25, 2010 by Emily

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, off I go to the Perleman Center for Advanced Medicine to start my day with a pelvic exam and a CA125. Ah, the joys of life as a stage III ovarian cancer survivor. It’s four … Continue reading →

Posted in Death, Life After Cancer, music | Tagged Atlantic City, CA125, check-up, Crowded House, diagnosis, House of Blues, Neil Finn, Perelman Center, prepubescence, remission, Split Enz | 1 Comment

the essence of injustice

Posted on June 18, 2010 by Emily

Other women with ovarian cancer are dying. Lots of them. Young women, women my age. I don’t understand why they are dying and I am not. I feel a little guilty. No, a lot guilty. I am so fucking alive, … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Death, Life After Cancer | Tagged grapefruit, head-on collision, HNPCC, injustice, luck, mutation, stage III ovarian cancer, survivor, trenches | 3 Comments

performing cancer

Posted on June 14, 2010 by Emily

My efforts to explain and unpack my cancer experience have always been narrative, linear. I try to tell a story – or, lots of little stories – clearly, concisely, and in a way that people can connect with and understand. … Continue reading →

Posted in Death, Film, Life After Cancer, Writing | Tagged acting, Anne, dramatic fodder, Emma Thompson, Facebook, high school, Lynn Redgrave, metastatic ovarian cancer, Northwestern, one-woman show, performance, poetry, tags, theater, WIT | 1 Comment

they won’t go gently

Posted on April 14, 2010 by Emily

My head is in a fog of allergies, moving and other assorted chaos – both internal and external. We are finally in our new home, and I am ecstatic. After just the first few days, life in the swamps of … Continue reading →

Posted in Death, Life After Cancer | Tagged adoption, ALL, Cooper River, Death, First Descents, Jazzfest, moving, New Jersey, Planet Cancer, Texas | 3 Comments