Chapters 41 and 42: "New crew," and "Recovering, waiting for the next scan."

Chapter 41: New Crew

Sometime early in intern year it was one of the Ophthalmology intern’s birthday’s. Some way or another I ended up going out with him and the rest of the ophthalmology interns for beers since the pandemic restrictions for restaurants had been lightened. It was a bit of a wild night, and we became quick friends. I gave the birthday boy the secret rainier beer I had in my pocket on the way to a different bar. Afterwards we had several future hangouts, including hikes and camping, board games, movies, dinners, etc. and of course when it was airing, Bachelor or Bachelorette nights. The core of the group was Tony, BK, Lydia, and me. In the winter we skied countless days together, sharing the same joy for sketchy off-piste terrain and chairlift beers. When one of us was on nights we would plan to ski as soon as we were off shift. These three were some of the first to visit after my first brain surgery, not counting the friends from out of town who were already there, offering a great deal of support and help and kept me involved socially—even planning dinners at my own apartment when I got out of the hospital. They certainly became my most important friend group and support in Utah, and before long I was granted the title of honorary ophthalmology intern because of it. Early on there was another addition to the group: Cori, an optometry resident. Cori was a great addition who dominated in Bachelor fantasy but had to move to Arizona for work. It’s unfortunate as she was one of the few actual skiers in the group. Tony and BK are both snowboarders but have no trouble with difficult or forested terrain. I Have yet to need to pull one through a flat powder field thankfully. Lydia skis well. Although she tends to try and bring people through “good” off-piste terrain and will frequently say, “I know a way,” before disappearing in trees and hills and becoming impossible to follow or to find. Although to be fair, I once led BK through a “good route” that would have “lots of powder” at the end of the day at Solitude, which had thick trees and cliffs that you could only step down due to trees at the landing. I slid to a stop right next to a cliff and BK got stuck next to a tree and it took a lot of walking and stepping and climbing to get out of the area. Something about the way I learned to ski makes me opt for difficult or dangerous runs that turn out to be much less fun than they appear, all because I think that I need to fall while skiing to know that I’ve done something hard enough. Luckily no broken bones that year. In some ways the cancer became fortunate for that year because it gave me a little extra time to have the best ski season of my life, racking in more than 100 full days.

Near the end of the year, Tony, BK, and I took a trip to Jackson Hole, which was fantastic and full of shenanigans I feel I should probably not mention (especially if I ever want to ski there again). It was a fantastic way to end the ski year.

Now, these three continue to be my best and most supportive friends in Salt Lake City. They are certainly one of the reasons I decided to stay in Salt Lake when my brain cancer took a turn for the worse. Through our time together I’ve learned to be a more open and present individual, and they have taught me to love and appreciate myself even when I feel like a complete wreck (be it physically, emotionally, or otherwise) usually related to cancer or treatment.

There’s only one way to end this chapter: Hug your friends more.

Chapter 42: Recovering, waiting for the next scan

With the final round of radiation complete I had some time to travel and enjoy myself and the time I had with any visitors. Unfortunately, the radiation fatigue was greater than before because the side effects were cumulative over both rounds. I initially had friends visit (Ben, Sarah, Natalie, William, which we have already talked about). Around the time they visited the fatigue was certainly severe and so there were concerns that perhaps I was worsening because my short term memory, direction finding, and driving (although not currently driving) all seemed much worse beyond being generally tired and mildly unavailable during the trip. Thankfully my sodium levels were relatively normal during that time: meaning the SIADH wasn’t worsening, which likely meant no worsening of actual tumor.

I wouldn’t find out about any of this until I went to Chicago for the music festival Riot Fest. While I was there, other friends who had joined us—Spencer and Ariana—brought up concerns that Sarah and Ben had mentioned. Later I would hear about it as well from my parents and some other friends. They mentioned a variety of variable concerns without clear foci or specific example. This made it rather frustrating to figure out what the base concerns were and if I needed to get to an early appointment or scan or need to go to the hospital soon.  Later I would have a chance to talk to Sarah about it (after Chicago) and get a better idea of specifics. I told her about how hearing these concerns from several different angles made me feel out-of-the-loop and worried about what was being said when I wasn’t in the room, and asked if they would talk to me first about any concerns prior to reaching out to other friends and family. She understood where I was coming from and agreed to let me know first if there was something else. I thanked her. Of course, I appreciated the initial concern because it keeps me honest to how I’m truly doing. But without hearing about it first, it’s difficult and can seem unfocussed and inconsistent, especially when only coming second-hand from several sources. If you’re ever concerned about a friend or family member with a medical issue, I would recommend talking to said person about it first. It’s not a good feeling to feel left out of your own life.

While the next scan was only slightly less than a month away, especially with this apparent worsening I began to feel incredibly anxious and worried that things had worsened despite the previous months of treatment. Worse yet, the anxiety seemed to consume me and make me more tired and distractible each day. Thankfully all these symptoms would improve about 2 weeks before the scan, giving me some assurance that things were actually OK, if not had improved.