The Silver Lining

The number of bad days are starting to catch up with the number of good ones. I have a pretty nasty cold and I fainted yesterday. “Hang in there!” everyone is telling me. Well, my arms are getting tired and I want a break. My mohawk is out of my line of vision and I’m starting to see the real cancer. All I’m asking for is just one day to walk away from this whole mess and return to my math and science mothership, to sit in on some impossible classes and to eat some Trader Joe’s brand oreos dipped in soymilk with my roommate. I miss my friends. I miss not worrying about taking pills, my temperature, and my weight. I miss being the old me.

The irony of my situation is incredible. A few years ago, I had a friend, Linzey, who was struggling with her own battle against a brain tumor. I was the one paying her weekly visits and making her “get well soon” cards. Unfortunately, Linzey lost her 10-year battle with cancer, and after her death, I started a fundraiser in which my friends and I sold stuffed animal cats (her favorite animal) to raise money for a pediatric brain tumor foundation. When I look in the mirror and see my bald head and thinning eyebrows, I hardly recognize myself. I only see Linzey.

The universe is further mocking me by the number of pills I take daily. Not too long ago, if you came near me with even the tiniest of pills, I would gag and make a whole fuss. Now I down them like candy… six, seven, or even eight at a time.

A third irony is that I’m a three time donor to Locks-of-Love, a foundation where people can donate their long hair to be made into wigs for cancer patients. It’s funny that I could easily be eligible to receive one of these wigs, yet I kind of like being bald. After all, I am the Great Baldini.

As the saying goes, “We cannot direct the winds, but we can adjust the sails.” Unlike my friend Linzey, I am lucky that my prognosis allows me to take charge of my direction.

The other day, my mom and I took a little detour on this wild expedition of ours. Her friend and wonderful photographer, Jonathan Friedman, did a photoshoot of what I like to call “the silver lining.”

My mom and I '"painting" each other.

Here is just one of his many brilliant shots.

Someone whom I consider a very special friend recently wrote to me: “Those wise old Greeks knew that we can only learn joy through grief, as it is only by contrast that we can define anything. "Tall" is only "tall" if there is a "short." So where is the joy in your present state? I would guess it will be in the slowing-down-of-things, in the closer-examination-of-things. The capacity for wonder can substantially increase for you now. Just imagine: you're reading a 400-page book (about an inch thick) and unwittingly, you turn two pages at once. The nerves in the skin of your fingers notify your brain instantly. Your skin can tell the difference 1/400th of an inch and 2/400ths of an inch! We so take for granted this astounding body that carries us from place to place. Taking things for granted is a state of emotional inertia. Not taking things for granted is an intellectual and emotional odyssey. Bon voyage!”