Category Archives: cancer

’til death do them part (or, john edwards is an asshole)

Posted on January 28, 2010 by Emily

I can’t stop thinking about Elizabeth Edwards. But first, a confession. There was a time, many moons ago, when I actually thought John Edwards might make a half-decent President. I think I even voted for him in the ’04 Democratic … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, politics | Tagged Andrew Young, cancer partners, Elizabeth Edwards, first-class asshole, Janet Maslin, John Edwards, memoir, poverty, President of the United States, Raleigh, Saving Graces, U.S. Senate | 4 Comments

magical/irrational (CT scan eve)

Posted on January 19, 2010 by Emily

Tomorrow morning, when I enter the radiology suite at Pennsylvania Hospital, my passport to cancer-land will be stamped yet again. It’s time for my second CT scan. The first was over the summer, when I was still a little rough … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Life After Cancer | Tagged anxiety, barium, contrast, control, CT scan, hoo-hoo, irrational thinking, magical thinking, Matt Lauer, Neil Gaiman, Pennsylvania Hospital, referrals, Sandra Bullock, Spruce Street, sweat, The New Yorker | 3 Comments

the wanting comes in waves

Posted on December 29, 2009 by Emily

In a post a few weeks back, I was thinking about the injustice of a world in which people who are unable or unwilling to raise children continue to produce babies at an often-alarming rate, while people like me get totally fucked out … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Family, Life After Cancer, Work | Tagged adoption, baby shower, balancing act, cancer, children, communication, evil, fate, friends, injustice, irony, North Philly, Peru, rage | 2 Comments

the meaning of night

Posted on December 15, 2009 by Emily

I love a good book. Reading takes up a good chunk of my leisure time, and I love telling people how during my seven months out of work recovering from surgery and getting chemo, I read like a fiend and … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Writing | Tagged blindness, books, Michael Cox, reading, The Glass of Time, The Meaning of Night, vascular cancer | Leave a comment

dance party, 8:30 AM, my gyn/onc’s office: be there

Posted on December 13, 2009 by Emily

Apparently the rules that apply to human house guests also apply to dogs – three nights, maximum. No, I kid. We’ve had a great time with Marley, our dear friends’ Pomapoo, who has been with us since Friday night. Now, … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Life After Cancer, running | Tagged Christmas tree, dance party, donuts, Marley, neuropathy, Pastime Paradise, Pomapoo, pregnant co-workers, running, Russian roulette, three-month check-up, wind | 3 Comments

my dog ate my GI cancer risk evaluation forms

Posted on December 8, 2009 by Emily

LATE AFTERNOON (5:15 PM) One of my old friends from high school made a very funny observation the other day on Facebook: “I think people say something is a “perfect storm” when what they really mean is that it’s a … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Family, Life After Cancer | Tagged 20 foot alien zombie, Facebook, family medical history, forms, genetic testing, GI cancer, Grim Reaper, HNPCC, Paleozoic Era, puppy-dog eyes, shitstorm, survivors, ticking time bomb | 1 Comment

f*#% you very much, cancer

Posted on December 3, 2009 by Emily

Thanks to global warming, this December 3 – my own personal designated cancer D-Day – feels nothing like the corresponding day two years ago when I realized I was facing a battle with this truly mean-spirited disease. Hence, no weather-triggered … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Life After Cancer, Philadelphia, running | Tagged cancerversary, gin and tonic, jam session, neuropathy, Philadelphia Runner, PTSD, Puma, recurrence, running, upright piano | 2 Comments

a courageous front

Posted on December 1, 2009 by Emily

Yet another day on the cancer roller-coaster, though not quite in the way I might have anticipated. December 1: the diagnosis anniversary is nigh. Thursday, 12/3, is really my own personal D-Day, even though it does not signify the day … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Life After Cancer, Writing | Tagged Afghanistan, anniversary, cheap red wine, D-Day, diagnosis, fear, isolation, Obama, Pied Piper, recurrence, The Beatles, toilet, whiplash | Leave a comment

finally one of the cool kids (and all it took was a little bit of cancer)

Posted on November 14, 2009 by Emily

This past week I found myself feeling, well, off. My last post explains pretty plainly why this now-rare storm could of ill feelings settled over me. During the nine years that I have worked in child welfare, I have – … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Life After Cancer, Work | Tagged black boots, booty-shaking, child welfare, Courtroom K, Dan Barry, diagnosis-versary, Double-Oh-Seven, First Descents, Fridge, Hottie Bucks, magic, survivors, winter | Leave a comment

honoring it all

Posted on November 7, 2009 by Emily

Last night, over margaritas and enchiladas, I said to my husband, “I feel so good. Is there something wrong with me?” Working his way through his flight of tequila, he smiled and said, “Maybe it has to do with being … Continue reading →

Posted in cancer, Life After Cancer | Tagged Alli, anger, bloodwork, calm, check-ups, CVS, dog park, enchiladas, end-stage, First Descents, Fridge, Grim Reaper, Jackson, Lucy, margaritas, Mike, optimism, ovarian cancer, pelvic exams, Planet Cancer, strength, tequila | 2 Comments