While I have had a challenging year, to say the least, I still have a lot to be thankful for; my family, my friends, my awesome medical team and the treatment I've received thus far, having great insurance (which means I'm not getting into crazy medical debt), and, while it's been a little shaky at times, my health. Sure, I'm not to where I want to be health-wise (not even close!), but my treatment has definitely been easier than I've expected, and all signs so far point that it will (hopefully) bring me back to good health in just a few months.
So, it's in this context of acknowledging how much I have to be thankful for that I'm going to get into the meat of what I want to discuss today; even though the two are closely related, dealing with cancer has been easier than going through my latest "quarter life crisis" (I say latest because, at 26, I've already gone through my fair share already. TK REASONS WHY IT'S SO HARD TO BE A MILLENNIAL! )
It's easiest to explain this as a sort of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs sort of situation. Even though I'm going through treatment for cancer, my basic physical and emotional needs continue to be met (hence my thankfulness). Which leaves me with the top of the period: self-actualization.
Uprooting my life by quitting my job and leaving my apartment in Brooklyn, and then moving back in with my parents in my home state of Minnesota -- aka putting my regular life on hold and giving up a lot of my independence in the process -- has definitely been harder than I thought. While I still think I made the right call in coming home for treatment, especially since I've had some "fun" little surprises along the way (*cough* PULMONARY EMBOLISM *cough*) which have landed me in the emergency room, it's been really hard to adjust to feeling so transient on both a personal and professional level.
I think most people in my situation would feel similarly frustrated. However, when you're somewhat of a control freak, the uncertainty of it all is especially maddening. On the health front, I know I can't control everything. Or, rather, anything. Thanks, Hodge, for enlightening me on that one. But when it comes to my life and where I want to go, as a rule of thumb, I don't like surprises (unless they're good surprises), I want to know with 100% certainty that the new apartment I'm moving into doesn't have bed bugs, and I like to be well-versed about restaurant menus before I even sit down in the case that the menu is really dense and I need to spend an exorbitant amount of time figuring out what I want (seriously, who can socialize and scrutinize a menu at the same time? It's a multi-tasking skill I do not possess).
Long story short, I like to live my life like fellow cancer warrior/douchebag/sociopath Walter White, minus the murders, drug empire, etc. "Never give up control. Live life on your own terms," Walter says. Oh, and one must not forget the classic "I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS!"
...But am I the one who knocks?
After all, Walter White's lung cancer returned. Will mine?
At the heart of it, this is really where the quarter-life crisis thing comes in: what will happen after treatment is over? Aside from being -- pardon my French -- FUCKING EXCITED to be done, the end of treatment will likely open up a whole new can of worms. While Hodgkin's is one of the most treatable cancers out there and generally responds well to the first line treatment of ABVD, there is still a chance that I could fall be one of the unlucky 15% or so who the first-line treatment does not work for, or, if it does work, only works for a limited period of time before they relapse and have to start a much more brutal salvage chemo regimen. Basically, it's about five years of living scan-to-scan before you can officially declare yourself as 'cured' (a word, even then, I don't know if I'll feel comfortable using).
Though you know what they say: You can't live your life in fear! To that I say: Easier said than done!
It'd be one thing if I was being treated where I wanted to live and work for the foreseeable future. While I like the Twin Cities and very well might want to settle down here some day, I don't think I'm ready yet. When I left New York City, things where finally on the upswing (my first two years, while great in many ways, also kind of sucked -- but that is a different story), and ideally I'd like to go back. However, it's one thing to move to a new city when you're 22, broke, and on your parents' health insurance like I did four years ago. When you do that, things just magically work out. But when you're 26 (which, let's be honest, is basically 30 which is basically 50) with a major health issue to consider and without a job and without health insurance, it's quite another story.
Too bad I already used that Liz Lemon BLERG gif, because that would be really great to put in right here.
So, there's a good reason why self-actualization is on the top of Maslow's pyramid. It's a labor of love, which oftentimes takes a lifetime to achieve (if it is even achieved at all!). While I will continue to stress and plot and strategize about the future, as that is just my M.O., every once and awhile I will remind myself that self-actualization would likely feel just as intangible if were a normal, healthy, non-Hodge-infected 26 year old.
I can't tell if that's a more glass half-full or glass half-empty way to look at things.
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