The Cart Before The Horse

I felt as though Mr. Agency and I were in a good place.  I saw him regularly, he treated me well, and I was content.  There wasn’t any urgency to define where we were going, especially since we were a new couple and I had just started chemotherapy

The night after the Gala, I made a comment that I hoped that we could go out for a drink once I was feeling stronger.

Me: Or to an event…or lunch.  Something that doesn’t involve us at here at 2am.  I’m okay with that most of the time, but not all of the time.

Mr. Agency: We can do that.  [Pause.]  A lot of my past girlfriends thought that I wouldn’t work as much or would look for another job once I was in a relationship, but that’s not me.

Me: I realize that.  I’m just talking about lunch or a drink once in a while.

Mr. Agency: Yeah, I just want to make sure that you understand where I'm coming from.  I don’t see settling down or changing my lifestyle anytime soon.  I doubt I’ll get married or start a family until I’m much older.

Me: That’s fine.

Mr. Agency: Most girls say that in the beginning, but then they have a problem with it as the months go on.  I don’t want you to resent me down the road.

Me: I’m not most girls, and I doubt that I’ll ever resent you.  I know how important your work is to you and how you want to take things to the next level professionally.  If we're going to continue dating, we have to support each other's goals. 

Mr. Agency: Other girls have said that to me before, but then the resentments kick in when they realize that I'm not going to change.

Me: I'm not asking you to change, and I hope that you don't ask me to change.  I don’t really care if I ever get married.  After I finish treatment, I’m going to focus on building my brand.  And then, in 2012, I want to adopt a little girl.  I hadn't planned on doing that with a partner.

Mr. Agency: Oh.  [Pause.]  Okay.

Me: I care about you, and I’m glad we’re together.  But, we've only known each other since July.  Do we need to figure out our future right now?

Mr. Agency: I guess we don’t.

I had hoped that would be the end of the discussion, but apparently, Mr. Agency had more to say.  Two nights later, as we were snuggling on the sofa bed, he kissed me and commented:

I feel like I’m just a filler until you adopt.

Me [with a very confused look on my face]: Are you joking?

Mr. Agency: Nope.  [I look at him with very wide eyes.]  In every joke, there’s some truth!

Where was this coming from?  Had aliens just possessed Mr. Agency’s body?

Me: Seriously.  What are you talking about?

Mr. Agency: Well, you said how you wanted to adopt a child and wanted to do that alone.  What about us?

Me: What about us?

Mr. Agency: Well, what if I want to take things to the next level?  I want to know that you’re all in.

Me: You’re messing with me, right?

Mr. Agency: No.  What if I want more?

Me: Like marriage and kids?

Mr. Agency: Yes.

Seriously?!?  What had happened in the last 48 hours?

Me: Umm…it’s not like we’ve been dating for that long.  Can’t we just enjoy where we’re at now?  Why are we talking about what’s going to happen in future?

Mr. Agency: I just need to know that you’re all in.

Me: We're together.  We're not dating or sleeping with other people.  What more do you need?  [Pause.]  Do you want me to go on Facebook and say that we're in a relationship?  [We laugh.]  I'd happily do that, but I know you well enough to know that you won't.  You're way too private for that.  [Pause.]  You said yesterday that you were worried that I would want too much from you since that’s been your experience with other girls.  What changed in two days?

Mr. Agency: Well, I was just thinking about what we talked about.  What if I want something different?

Me: And you know that this soon?

Mr. Agency: I just want to know that if I do want more, you’re open to that.

Me: I'm not averse to it, but I'm not thinking in the long term right now.  I try to plan as much as I can, but things happen as they are meant to.  It’s not like I expected to get cancer, but I adjusted my life accordingly.  Adopting a child is very important to me, but if we keep dating and we decide that we want the same things, then I'm open to that.  Does that make sense to you?

Mr. Agency: Yes.

He smiled and kissed me goodnight.  We fell asleep and had sex in the morning before I headed off to New York City.  I was still very confused about what Mr. Agency wanted (probably because Mr. Agency was very confused about what he wanted), but I trusted that time would tell if we were on the same page.

Back In The Saddle

I felt so sick after my first round of chemotherapy that I didn’t have sex for almost a week.  When I finally did have sex, I felt like I was “dialing it in.”  To me, “dialing it in” means that I was doing it for the sake of doing it.  I’m not one to fake it, but I definitely wasn’t performing to the best of my abilities.  It was difficult to be in certain positions or give a good blow job without feeling nauseous.  And, I worried that having an orgasm would be too much for me while I was recouping.  (Aren’t orgasms for women like Pringles?  Who can have just one?)

Through it all, Mr. Agency was incredibly understanding.  I started to feel better from my first round on September 30th and decided to go forward with my plans to head to my 20th High School Reunion.  Autumn and I would be driving up to Manhattan, and Mr. Agency came over to be with me before I left.  (He also was heading out of town on a business trip that weekend so we wouldn’t see each other for eight days straight.  That was long for us.)

In the morning, Mr. Agency began to go down on me.  With each stroke of his tongue, I wondered whether chemotherapy had caused me to lose my sex drive.  I worried that I wouldn’t be able cum as easily or as often because of treatment.  As my mind wandered, I reminded myself of what the doctor had told me:

Sex drive is more mental than physical.

I let myself go and stopped thinking so hard.  I realized that I wasn’t going to let cancer change my sex life anymore than it already had.

Me: Right there.  Please don’t stop.

Mr. Agency always aimed to please.  He kept his tongue on my clit, and I came.  Hard.

I thought to myself, “Yes!  I still got it!”

I was glowing from having gotten off, but I also felt unsure about my future with Mr. Agency.  Were we on the same page

Feeling Lucky

I had let Best Boy know that we needed to take the “benefits” out of our “friends with benefits” arrangement.  It surprised me that he cared more about me than he had led on, but my energy – in and out of the bedroom – was focused on my new relationship with Mr. Agency.

Mr. Agency and I continued to see each other two or three times a week.  His schedule typically precluded us from going out on dates, but we had found a good balance.

My mood in mid-September was less lighthearted, when I learned that I needed chemotherapy.  I was worried how the drugs would change me — and us.

Me: You realize that this is going to get a lot worse, right?

Mr. Agency: Yes, and I'll be here for you.

Me: I just feel really vulnerable now. Like I don't want cancer to be the reason why we don't work out.

Mr. Agency: That's not going to happen.

Me: If I'm bald?

Mr. Agency: I'll help you find a hot wig. Some look that you've always wanted to try. You are going to look sexy no matter what!

Me [smiling as I bury my head in his chest]: Maybe…what if I lose my sex drive?

Mr. Agency: That's not going to happen with you.

Me [laughing out loud]: Misty joked that if I lose my sex drive, I would still have a normal person's drive.

Mr. Agency: Exactly.  And, if you lose your drive, then it just means that I have to work harder.

I kissed him, as I fought back tears of happiness. That feeling only increased after I had my port* installed.  I hadn’t expected the procedure to install the port to be so painful and was surprised at how rough I felt.

My friend, Tricia, was over helping me out that evening, when Mr. Agency texted me to see how I was doing.  He offered to come over after his event.

Tricia: Are you sure you want him to see you like this?

Me; Since I’m hurting so much?  [She nods.]  I think so.  Chemo is going to be much tougher.  If he can’t handle this, then at least I’ll know.

Tricia: I can see that.  [Pause.]  Are you going to be okay if he can’t handle it?

Me: I hope so.  I’m sure it would hurt a bit, but better to find out now than later.

There was a knock on the door, and Tricia went to answer it.  (She had met Mr. Agency once before when we all went for a dog walk together.)

Mr. Agency [to Tricia]: How’s she doing?

Tricia: Not so good.  She’s in a lot of pain.  Will you be able to help her out tonight?

Mr. Agency: Definitely.

And, he did just that.  He held me close, brought me water, walked my dog, and kissed me sweetly.  He understood that I wasn’t up for having sex and didn’t push me.  He reminded me that he would be there for me and that I’d get through this.

In the midst of the pain, I smiled.  I felt very, very lucky.

* A port is a tiny device that is surgically inserted under the skin in your chest and provides access to a vein.  It makes receiving chemotherapy much, much easier, and eliminates the pain associated with not finding a vein.  If you or a loved one needs to get chemo, I highly recommend getting a port!

More Than Friends With Benefits

After my recent conversation with Mr. Agency, I had some concerns.  Would his lack of work/life balance be problematic for us in the long run?  And, how much of a priority did he place on follow through?  Since I was still getting to know him and liked a lot of the qualities he possessed, I decided to wait and see how (or would that be if?) our relationship progressed.

Given how regularly Mr. Agency made comments about my past dating history and his need to have an emotional connection to reach orgasm, I realized that my friend, T, was right.  If I wanted to pursue a relationship with Mr. Agency, I had to stop sleeping with Best Boy.  I hoped that wouldn’t be too difficult since we were just friends with benefits anyway.

Best Boy was in Los Angeles the week after Labor Day, when I received the following text:

I had a dream about us last night.

Me: Really?!?  What were we doing in the dream?

Best Boy: You were sitting on top on my lap on one of your dining room chairs.  I was doing you from behind with a cock ring on.

Me: Sounds hot!

Best Boy: We need to try that when I get back.

Me: Hmm…maybe.

I sext with the best of them so my apathy spoke volumes.

Best Boy: Maybe?

Me: Well, I started seeing someone recently and feel like I should give that a chance since he's more of a relationship guy.  Hope you can appreciate that.

We texted back and forth a few more times.  Best Boy claimed that he stopped seeing Melanie* because of me, and I responded that was his choice.

Me: I never asked you to do that.  We weren’t dating.  We’re just friends who’ve been having sex.

Best Boy picked up the telephone and called me.  When I saw his name come in on my Caller ID, I noted my surprise to Autumn, who was sitting next to me on the couch.

Best Boy: I’m fine if you don’t want to sleep with me anymore, but I don’t sit on the bench for anyone.

Me: What does that mean?

Best Boy: If you stop sleeping with me now, don’t expect to call me up when you’re no longer in a relationship and start sleeping with me again.  If you take me out of the line-up, that’s it.

Me: Seriously?  So, a year from now, if we’re both single and want to have sex with each other, you’re not going to fuck me because of spite?

Best Boy: Correct.  I don’t play second string.

Me: Umm…okay.  [I look at Autumn with a confused expression on my face.]  Does that mean that we can still be friends?

Best Boy: Of course we can still be friends.

Me: Well, that’s good.  I don’t want that to change.  And, I didn’t want to upset you.  I just wasn’t expecting things to go in this direction with the new guy.

Best Boy and I talked for another 10 minutes, and I sensed how hurt he was. 

When I hung up the phone, I turned to Autumn and said:

Did I just have a break-up conversation with Best Boy?  [She nods her head.]  How could we break up if we were never going out?  I guess he liked me liked me.  [She nods her head again.]

I hadn’t had a friends with benefits relationship in a while because those arrangements never seem to work.  One person always ends up having feelings for the other, and in this scenario, it caught me off guard that Best Boy had developed feelings for me. How could we have amounted to anything more, given his relationship with Mr. Exec?

I felt bad that Best Boy had viewed our relationship differently than I did, but it was time to try something new…with Mr. Agency.

* I gave Best Boy's girl the nickname of "Melanie." In retrospect, that might have been confusing since my web designer's real name is Melanie. They are not one in the same.

Communication Is Key

Mr. Agency had indicated that he would come over to my place after his events.  So, when I received a text at 2am in which he wrote that he had gone home and would see me soon, I was irritated.  I texted back:

Seriously?!?  I wish that you had let me know this earlier in the night so I could have made other plans.

Mr. Agency rightfully decided that this was not an appropriate conversation to have over text and picked up the telephone to call me.  We exchanged salutations, and then discussed what had happened.

Mr. Agency: I figured that you were already sleeping since it was so late.

Me: I didn't really fall asleep since we had plans and I didn't want to miss your call.

Mr. Agency: I didn't realize that.  [Pause.]  I didn't expect you to be so upset.

Me: I’m not upset.  I’m disappointed.  You had told me earlier in the day that you were coming over.  It was great to see you at Teatro, and when you left, you still said that you were going to come over later.  If that had changed, you should have let me know earlier in the night.

Mr. Agency: And then you’re all like: I would have made other plans!

Me: I didn’t mean other plans with a guy.  I meant that I might have joined T for a drink at Park.  Or, I would’ve come home and not waited up for you.  [Pause.]  I guess I could have phrased my text better.

Mr. Agency: This is why I don’t normally get into relationships with people.

Me: Because you have to communicate with them?

Mr. Agency: Because my schedule is so crazy that I can’t really date anyone.  I had been thinking about how awesome you were and how we never had a problem, and then this happens.

Me: Umm…we’re both human so if we’re going to keep dating each other, you’ll have to realize that we’re going to disagree or get in tiffs about things.  But, if we communicate with each other, we’ll be fine.  I don’t mind that we can’t go out often, and I’ve told you that I can deal with your schedule.  But, if you say you’re going to do something, I expect you to do so.  That’s not a lot to ask.

Mr. Agency: That’s why I never make plans.

Me: Really?  Even with your friends?

Mr. Agency: Yeah.  They understand that 99% of the time I’m too busy to do anything.

Me: That’s interesting, but it’s a little different with us.  We’re sleeping together.  And, we’re not talking about you going out, but about you coming over after you’re done with work.  I’m cool with your schedule, but you need to work with me here.

Our conversation lasted 45 minutes, but it was rather repetitive in nature.  I kept stressing that he needed to communicate with me, and he continued to highlight how crazy his schedule was and how most people don’t understand his lifestyle.

Me: I understand it, but you need to decide if you’re going to make an effort to come over here when you’re done with work or not.  I don’t care if you come over late, but if you’re not sleeping at my place, we’re not going to see a lot of each other and things definitely won’t work.

Mr. Agency: Okay.  [Pause.]  So, do you want to sleep or should I come over?

Me: I’m definitely awake now, and I’d like you to come over.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Agency arrived at my front door.  He smiled when he saw that the sofa bed was made up for him.

Me: See!  I had things all ready for you.  I want to make sure you get your sleep when you’re here.

Mr. Agency: You’re awesome.

Me: So…we’re cool?

Mr. Agency: Yes.

He kissed me, and we walked into the bedroom.  When we woke the following morning, we talked some more about everything.  His schedule was definitely different, but I didn’t view that as a problem, as long as he communicated with me.  I wasn’t sure what the future would hold for us, but I liked him enough to see.

From Smiles To…

The week after Labor Day, Mr. Agency and I continued to spend a lot of time together in bed. 

Mr. Agency: I don’t understand those couples that don’t have a lot of sex.  I bet that most people wish that they had a sex life like ours.  [We laugh.]

In the midst of our Sex Fest, I noticed that Mr. Agency would bring up my ex-boyfriends…or guys who had wanted to date me…or athletes I didn’t know in real life, but he thought wanted to date me. 

His comments weren't entirely without merit.  DC is a very small town, and he did know several of my ex-boyfriends in real life.  And, I had also shared two funny stories with him early on about two public figures that had tried to date me.  (In retrospect, I realized that I shouldn’t have talked about that.)

I would joke about seeing photographs online of him and women at events, but his tone about "how all the guys love me" was more jealous than jovial.  It occurred to me that he needed validation that I cared about him.  I made sure to interject comments — while we were having sex and when we were apart – to let him know how happy he made me. 

Mr. Agency: You say that to all the boys.

Me: No, I don’t.  I'll just have to make sure that you realize that.

As we spent more and more time together, I could tell that Mr. Agency began to feel more comfortable.  I found myself smiling every time that I thought about him.

Mr. Agency and I became closer, while Best Boy was on vacation in Los Angeles.  I had received a text from my friend, D, that she unfortunately wouldn’t be able to see Best Boy when he was in California.  I hadn’t thought much about what I was going to do when Best Boy returned to DC, until my friend, T, asked:

You’re not still going to hook up with Best Boy now that you and Mr. Agency are having sex, are you?

Me: I hadn’t thought about it much.

T: I thought that Best Boy was just someone to have fun with, though.

Me: He is.

T: And, you and Mr. Agency are more like a couple.  You’re seeing a lot of each other now, right?

Me: Yeah.  I saw him Sunday and Tuesday, and he's coming over tonight [Thursday].

T: Well, now that you and Mr. Agency are having sex, how would you feel if you knew that he was having sex with another person?

After thinking about that for a minute, I replied:

I guess I would be hurt, even if I didn’t have a right to be.  [Pause.]  Maybe you’re right.  It might be easier to just focus on Mr. Agency and see where it goes, especially since I can't be more than friends with Best Boy.

While T and I were talking at Teatro Goldoni, Mr. Agency walked in.  I smiled, as he came over to say hello to both of us.

Me: I didn’t expect to see you!  What are you doing here?

Mr. Agency: Well, I had a few minutes between the embassy event and the agency dinner so I figured that I would come by to say hello.  I also knew that some of my friends would be here so I wanted to introduce you to them.  [I smile a big, toothy grin.]

He walked over to introduce me to Clark and Jared without realizing that I already knew Jared.

Jared: So…how do you two know each other?

Mr. Agency and I just looked at each other and giggled.  We giggled like we were in middle school.  He finally mentioned that we met at the Masquerade Party, as the two of us blushed awkwardly.

Mr. Agency [when Jared wasn’t listening]: I need to head out now, but I’ll come by later.

Me: Good!  I’m really glad you popped in.  See you later.  [We kiss on the cheek.]

I went back over to T, and we both thought that it was promising that Mr. Agency came by, if only for a few minutes.

T: I’ve never seen you like this.

Me: All giddy, you mean?

T: Yeah.

I was giddy about Mr. Agency.  I went home still swooning.  I made up my sofa bed on the chance that Mr. Agency couldn't sleep well in my bed, and I put out some lube and a cock ring.  I laid down to try to sleep for a couple of hours before he came over, but didn't get much rest since I didn't want to miss his call. 

When my phone vibrated at 2am, I awoke with a smile on my face.  But, my smile turned to a frown, when I read Mr. Agency's text:

Just got home from the dinner.  Going to get some sleep tonight.  I’ll see you soon, sexy.  Sleep well.

I stared at my phone incredulously.  Was he joking?

To be continued…

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, there was a Little City Girl.  Her parents raised her with love, support and opportunities.  They let her know that she could be anything that she wanted to be when she was older.

At 14, Little City Girl told her father that she wanted to go to Wellesley College and become a lawyer.

“Why do you want to be a lawyer?” he inquired.

“Because I like to write, debate and help people,” Little City Girl replied.

When she went to Wellesley several years later, the professors also impressed upon her and her classmates that they could be and do anything.

A college internship brought City Girl to Washington, DC, in 1993, and she fell in love with the nation’s capital.  After her internship ended, she stayed in DC and got a job as a legal assistant.  She went on to law school, and when she finally started to work as an attorney, she was thankful that an instinct that she had 12 years prior was the right one.

In her first job, she noticed that wearing a short skirt or a fitted sweater to work prompted inappropriate comments from her bosses.  With each subsequent position, she sported more pants suits and felt more comfortable informing male colleagues that their behavior was unacceptable.

She also learned that although her dating stories were entertaining, she had to be selective about what she shared with co-workers.  One partner only knew that she was dating an NFL player – without any specifics – and thought it funny to walk into a meeting after a football game, saying:

Your boyfriend can’t handle his balls.

In theory, she could do anything professionally that she wanted.  But, unfortunately, that didn’t mean that her age, gender, appearance or sexuality wouldn’t be topics of conversation or affect other people’s perceptions of her around the office.

When City Girl left firm life for a nonprofit, she began doing some legal policy work.  She always relied on facts and the law, rather than emotions, when speaking about a polarizing issue, but that didn’t stop a few very conservative people from sending her office hate mail.  Her former boss approached her about doing policy work exclusively.  She was flattered, but she worried that she would miss working directly with the clients if she chose that path.

In 2008, she decided to take a sabbatical from the law to focus on health issues and finish her master’s program.  As she prepared to write her thesis, she thought it would be fun to start blogging about her dating adventures.  She chose to blog anonymously so that if she reentered the policy arena, her sexuality wouldn’t be used against her.  (If she had received several pieces of hate mail and comments about her appearance or significant others without provocation, she knew that her sex life and dating mishaps would become ammunition for those who disagreed with her politics.)

As her blog readership grew, she began attending events as City Girl.  Quite a few people in DC knew both her real name and blog link, but they kindly respected her privacy.  Local online publications were also understanding, taking her picture with her name or quoting her as City Girl without using her name or face.  She managed with the help of others to remain anonymous from the legal policy world.

In 2010, City Girl wondered if it was worth taking another year away from the law to see where her blog could go and start teaching sexual health workshops.  She joined the American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors and Therapists and attended their annual conference. She also found a platform, as she wrote about the use of toxic ingredients in sex toys and the need for self-regulation.  Lotus Blooms and Fascinations at Fun Love approached her about writing for their sites and reviewing body-friendly products for them.  She began to ponder how she could advocate for safe sex toys on a larger scale.

When she was diagnosed with breast cancer in June of 2010, she decided to use her experience to try to raise awareness and help others.  Her friends and doctors knew that she was willing to talk about what she was going through, and opportunities to do just that followed.  The more that she talked about her experience and let others in, the more she wanted to continue to do so.

She finished chemotherapy and realized that she is stronger than she thought that she was.  She also realized that there’s much more for her to do as an advocate and that it’s time to come out from behind her laptop.  If she can help one more person through her blog, her photographs or her interviews, it’s worth it.  She accepts that she may never work again in the legal policy arena, although she wishes that there wasn’t a double standard with respect to female sexuality in the workplace.

Once upon a time, there was a City Girl with long, red hair named Stef Woods.

Stef Woods, City Girl, City Girl Blogs

  

Photo Credit: Kristina Hopper Photography

She’s bald now, but she still feels sexy.

  

Stef Woods, City Girl, City Girl Blogs

Photo Credit: Moshe Zusman Photography

Although she’s not exactly sure what will happen next, she trusts that she will live happily ever after.

Chemo Room Musings

I spent 26 days in the Chemotherapy Room over a period of three and a half months.  In that time, I observed a lot and learned a lot.  Here are some of my musings:

1. A female always accompanied male patients to the chemotherapy room, whether as a daughter, wife, girlfriend or mother.  By contrast, female patients were rarely accompanied by a male friend or loved one.  Women battling cancer surrounded themselves with the females in their lives. 

That observation made me think about stereotypical gender roles with respect to caretaking.  Do women choose to be around other women at a difficult time because many women instinctively know how to care for others?  Or, is it related to how men and women perceive the value of men’s work outside of the home versus women’s work outside of the home? 

Women comprised my support system during my treatment.  These females just did what needed to be done without me asking for it.  Or, they would offer to help in specific ways and be available to me at specific times.  (Some of these women worked outside of the home with traditional hours, while others weren't working or had a more flexible work schedule.) 

The men in my life had to be told how they could help me, and none of the men I’ve written about in this blog ever accompanied me to get IVs.  Several friends and readers commented that they wish I had a man who would be by my side through every part of this experience, but I didn’t.  I think of how the majority of my friends’ significant others deal with care giving, child rearing, and health issues, and I’d much prefer to have someone by my side who knows what needs to be done and just does it.

2. I was the only bald woman in the Chemotherapy Room 24 out of 26 days.  Think about that for a minute.  A woman is going to receive chemotherapy, and that’s typically the only activity that she will be doing that day outside of her home.  She will be in a room with her doctor, nurses and other cancer patients who are going through similar experiences.  As she dresses, she puts on a wig, hat, scarf, or some combination of all three.  What does that say about how she views herself and conventional standards of beauty and femininity?

The wigmaker for the Washington Opera Company kindly offered to help me pick out a wig that was similar to my natural hair color and length.  I love the wig that we chose, but it doesn’t always look good on me.  (Wigs made of human hair need to be washed and styled.  When they aren’t well-maintained, they look rather funky.) 

I had a great head of hair.  Now, I’m bald because of chemotherapy.  Why should I feel less sexy, beautiful or feminine because of that?  Why should I care about making others feel more comfortable about my experience?  Why shouldn’t I make people think about cancer while they’re out shopping at Whole Foods or grabbing a drink at L2?

In the Chemotherapy Room, other female patients would come up to me, saying how brave I was to go bald.  And, at least one person approaches me when I’m out in public, saying how beautiful I look or sharing a story about how cancer has affected them.  Last month, I put my wig in the corner of my closet and decided that’s where it should stay.  I’m the girl, walking around town with a bald head.  I've realized that feeling comfortable with my baldness and talking about my experience with breast cancer can help to educate others.  That's important to me.  I view my baldness like a badge of honor because I earned it.

3. The experience was tougher than I thought it would be, but I’m stronger than I thought I was.  I knew that chemotherapy wouldn’t be easy, and I knew that it would hit me harder than most given my other medical conditions.  But, I didn’t expect to require 20 additional days of IVs than the average person.  It wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t always the most chipper person to be around.  (My friends, especially Autumn and Tricia, deserve a medal for putting up with me.)  But, I relied on my faith, counted my blessings that this was caught early, and reminded myself that this is part of God’s plan for me.

4. I came away from the Chemotherapy Room with a few epiphanies about my life and the direction that I want it to take.  I’ve realized with a sense of calm and certainty that it’s time.

“Time for what?” you might be wondering.

That, my friends, is for another post.  In the meantime, I’d love to hear your thoughts about stereotypical gender roles when it comes to caretaking and how you’ve reacted to seeing someone who has lost her hair from chemotherapy.  xoxo

Graduation Day

She dresses in layers on a bitterly cold morning in January, as she heads for the doctor’s office for her last round of chemotherapy.  Her eye twitches from three months without enough sleep.  Her pale face turns beat red with every hot flash.  She’s crabby from all the steroids.  Her taste buds are almost completely gone, replaced with a constant taste of dull metal in her mouth.  And, she’s still nauseous and throwing up from the last round of chemotherapy three weeks ago.

“You look kind of glum,” her doctor commented with a note of surprise.

“I’m so over this,” she replies.  “I don’t want anymore.”

“Given how you’ve been feeling, you have to expect that this round will be the worst.  The effects are cumulative.  You probably won’t feel better from this round for six weeks.”

Six weeks?!?” she exclaims.

She goes in the bathroom and cries.  The average person recoups from a round of chemotherapy in a week to 10 days.  The average person just needs one day of IVs per round, and that’s it.

For her, six rounds of chemotherapy translated into 26 days of IVs.  (Her body really didn’t respond well to chemotherapy so she needed more drugs and fluids to alleviate the side effects.)  She knows that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, but she doesn’t want six more weeks of feeling this poorly.

She takes a night to process that the next six weeks will be rough and then decides to focus on the positive.  As the week progresses, she feels worse physically, but better emotionally.  By mid-February, the effects of chemotherapy will be a thing of the past.  This was caught early.  She is lucky.  And, she has faith that she will fall within the 85% of people whose cancer doesn’t return in five years.

She thinks of all the many blessings in her life.  She has the best health insurance and medical care available.  She has never had to go to the chemotherapy room alone.  Her friends were by her side at each and every visit – all 26 of them. 

As the week draws to a close, she returns for her last day of chemo-related IVs.  She sees a 32-year-old woman getting her first round of chemotherapy.  The young woman looks like a deer in headlights.

“I’m sure this seems surreal.  I was there, too.  You’ll get through it, though, and if you need anything, just call me,” she tells her.

A few hours later, the last drops of fluid drip from her IV bag.  She and her friend watch, holding hands with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.  The nurse comes over with tears in her eyes to announce to the room that she has graduated.  She knows that she will remember that feeling for the rest of her life.

She did it. 

She’ll begin 30 sessions of radiation later this month.  And, because her aggressive type of breast cancer is HER2+, she’ll need to receive an IV of a drug called Herceptin once every three weeks through September.

The light at the end of the tunnel almost blinds her from its brightness.  She wipes tears of pride, joy and gratitude from her cheeks and smiles.

She’s done. 

She prays that she will never have to go through that again.  And, she vows to continue doing what she can to raise awareness and funds for breast cancer prevention and research. 

We all need to have a plan after graduation, don't we?

Quite The Teddy Bear

My friendship with benefits arrangement with Best Boy thankfully didn’t bar me from pursuing a relationship with Mr. Agency.  I use the term, “relationship,” loosely, though, since I wasn’t able to date Mr. Agency in the conventional sense.

“Why not?” you might be wondering.

Well, Mr. Agency worked a minimum of 100 hours a week.  When most couples were heading off to dinner or a movie, Mr. Agency was still stuck in a meeting or going to an event.  So, our “dates” consisted of him coming over to my place at midnight…or 2am.

If I had been looking for a traditional relationship, then his schedule obviously would have presented a problem for me.  But, I wasn’t.  I enjoyed his company so I was fine with seeing him late at night once or twice a week.  And, at a time in my life when I needed a little extra tender loving care, I liked making out with Mr. Agency and falling asleep with his arms around me. There wasn’t any pressure to have sex or decide where this was going.

Mr. Agency and I would lie in bed talking for hours, and he made me smile and laugh about everything and nothing.  Even though we were just getting to know each other, he would bring up future plans, joking about a couple’s costume we could wear for Halloween or a conference that we both might attend in January. 

We discussed past relationships and what problems we had encountered.  I could tell that he was relieved that I didn’t find his schedule or the fact that there were quite a few women in DC who vied for his attention at every event as problems.  And, I found it comforting that he wanted to talk about cancer and my blog.  There weren't any topics that were off limits with us.

I had always viewed Mr. Agency like a big teddy bear, until the night we moved from kissing to oral. I expect to enjoy myself from that, but I didn't expect to have to say, "when" and ask for a break. Mr. Agency went from teddy bear to Captain Cunninglingus and back to a teddy bear.

The next day, Mr. Agency headed off to London for meetings.  While he was away, he texted me every day to tell me that he was thinking of me.  He asked me to let him know what the oncologist said about my treatment plan, and I did just that. 

The following morning, my phone rang.  When I saw that it was Mr. Agency, I was surprised that he was calling me while he was overseas.

Me: Hey!  Is everything okay?

Mr. Agency: I know that I told you to text me about what the doctor said, but this is too important to text about so I wanted to call you.  Tell me about your appointment yesterday.

We talked for an hour that morning with a plan to see each other the day after he returned in DC.  I hung up the phone wondering if this had more relationship potential than I had initially thought.