Years ago, I was in my sister’s living room watching a nature show that featured salmon swimming upstream. In midair, they would circumvent an unrelenting waterfall, as they followed a familiar scent calling them home. Despite the deluge they encountered, they fought, struggled and continued their arduous journey. It fascinated me.

“Can you believe they do this?” I said to my family. I was met with confused incredulity.

“Uh, yeah. Didn’t you know that?”

“Oh, psshhh, yeah, I knew. I just … I just forgot.”

I didn’t know. I didn’t know these tenacious swimmers worked against a fast-flowing current all in an effort to spawn. I didn’t know the more they sensed the smell of their birthplace, the more they swam toward it. I didn’t know that once they reached their destination, the effort involved usually killed them. It seemed crazy to me. Idle, yet remarkable. And it was this imagery I thought of the evening after my first chemo treatment.

It was Monday, Oct. 24th, 2019.

“Reporting for duty,” is what I actually said. I immediately cringed with regret. Too much Sandra, too much. 

I was trying so hard to be normal. To tread above the inundating anguish that seemed to be rising with each passing minute. Feeling like I was on the verge of drowning, I gasped for air, and kept thinking, “It’s going to be OK; everything will be OK.” Continue reading “First Cycle of Chemo” →

At any point in time, there is a cacophony of dissonant sounds bellowing throughout our house. Whether it’s Julian’s incessant singing or Keanu’s baby yelps, finding a quiet space of my own can be challenging. But inside our master bathroom, on the east side of the wall, there are two mirrored doors. When you open them, you’ll find our closet and sometimes me. That’s where I usually hide. Last Thursday was no exception.

It was the morning of my surgery — a lymph node excision — and I needed some alone time. Merely 10 days prior I had been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and the lymph node was being removed for further diagnostics. So, there in the closet I sat, legs crossed and a rosary in my hand. A flame from a Virgin Mary candle flickered in front of me, and I focused on its undulating flare.

Through prayer and guided meditation, I had been working on being mindful and staying in the present. That morning I was doing pretty well, when the most unpleasant noise disrupted my focus.  Continue reading “2nd Installment – Post Diagnosis / Pre Treatment” →

Happy nails is the newest trend of applying a powdered dip on to your existing nails. It lies somewhere on the spectrum between acrylics and a regular manicure. A long-lasting manicure that is not supposed to chip, break or easily peel off. On Tuesday Oct. 1, 2019 — the day after my birthday — I ripped my happy nails off, one by one.

Dazedly swimming in the earth-shattering news I had been given a few hours prior, I was curled up on my bed, detaching the hardened polish from my own nail beds. Tears clouding my sight, fogging my contacts and soaking my sheets.

Hogdkin’s Lymphoma. The words reverberated like a fiery pinball bouncing off every corner of my mind. Continue reading “Diagnosis” →