tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33786375616877249502024-03-08T06:01:03.343-08:00Lemony LifeLearning to find joy through the good and bad in life.Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-36083386189588790432012-04-20T04:09:00.000-07:002012-04-20T04:09:21.463-07:00Twenty Five Years<br />
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I am 25 years old. I
am a thousand years old. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This was the year that I:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Finished my first year of grad school.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Planned a trip to Haiti.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Stood next to my sister-in-law while she married my brother.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Watched my blood counts drop. Relapsed.
Almost got a bone marrow transplant.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Did not go to Haiti.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Lost my grandmother.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Moved home from Pittsburgh.
Took a semester off of grad school.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Found out I’m going to be an aunt.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Started a blog. And
people read it. (THANK YOU!!!!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Had chemo, again. Recovered. Watched my counts go back up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Moved back to Pittsburgh.
Started grad school again, started working again. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Watched my sister’s heart get smashed. Watched my sister turn sorrow into strength
and pain into beauty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Became an aunt.
Learned how to hold a newborn. Fell in love with a teeny tiny
human. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I am 25 years old. I am a thousand years old.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I am tragedy. I am
hope.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I am fear. I am faith.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I am hypocrisy. I am
honesty. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I am anxiety. I am
peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I am weakness. I am
strength.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I am sorrow. I am
joy.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I am despair and I am promise. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I am 25 years old. I
am a thousand years old. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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And this is the year that I will:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Walk in my graduation ceremony with the same people I
started the program with. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Become Kelsey Allen, MPH<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Give back the generosity that you all have shown me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And a whole lot more.
Who knows??? That's the beauty of health and youth; it lets your view
of the future expand as far and as wide as the horizon. And what an amazing gift that is. :)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is my prayer in
the harvest, when favor and providence flow<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I know I’m filled to
be emptied again<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This seed I’ve
received I will sow<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thank you for reading and walking on this journey with
me. I had no idea how much this blog
would mean to me and what a lifeline it would become, but it certainly has. Here’s
to the next year with hopefully a lot less platelet talk and a little more
adventure. THANK YOU for all of your love and support!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kelsey<o:p></o:p></div>Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com5612-698 Terrace Dr, McKeesport, PA 15135, USA40.3130432088809 -79.804687529.2356437088809 -100.0195315 51.3904427088809 -59.5898435tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-25180428375131036502012-02-26T14:14:00.000-08:002012-02-26T14:14:05.323-08:00Detroit Love<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
People say a lot about Detroit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People say true things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People say untrue things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But people say (mostly negative) things about
Detroit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve heard many of them and
maybe even said a few of them, but there is something about Detroit that not
everyone knows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Detroit is a place to heal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It may find itself on the top of almost every “Most
Dangerous City” list and have one of the highest unemployment rates in the
country, its school system may have no money and the auto industry attempting
to pick itself up from bankruptcy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
Detroit is full of people who are full of hope.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Detroit I’ve met amazing doctors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve met amazing nurses and nurse
practitioners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve sat next to cancer survivors in the waiting room at Karmanos
cancer center.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I fell in love with all of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I fell in love with them because they don’t whisper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People from Detroit don’t whisper about their
sports teams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don’t whisper about
how their job is going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And they don’t whisper about cancer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is so rare, and so incredibly refreshing, it’s hard to
describe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because when people are
uncomfortable, when they don’t know what to say, or how to express their
concern, or what questions they’re supposed to ask, they whisper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They tilt their heads to the side and tell you really
softly, I’m so sorry for you…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And there is no worse emotion than pity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pity is useless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pity, to me, feels a lot like saying “I’m so
glad I’m not you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pity is a waste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not productive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pity doesn’t lead you to get off your seat
and try to make someone’s life better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Pity doesn’t stir your soul and inspire you to pray for your sick
friend, or a famine on the other side of the globe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pity sits comfortably in it’s comfortable
life and says, “Geez that really sucks,” and then goes back to enjoying that
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So when I sat down in the waiting room at Karmanos for the
first time, and a stranger across from me said, “You look too young to be in
here, what kinda cancer you got?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was shocked, but I think part of me was so relieved to be
around strangers who didn’t feel like they needed to walk on eggshells around
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I explained my situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she continued, unprompted, to say that
she had lung cancer, and had been through chemo several times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We finished talking and my Dad leaned over to me, smiled and
said, “Well I guess this isn’t a shy crowd…” and I responded, “I guess
not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think this is the boat, and we’re
all in it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was the moment that every little part of me that was
asking, “Why me??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> have to deal with this??”
dissolved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because it’s not just
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not even close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe I don’t deserve this, but neither did anyone in that
waiting room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one in that room
deserved to deal with cancer or whatever rare disease had landed them in the
cancer hospital in Detroit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because that’s the thing about disease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t discriminate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t care if you’re only 21 years old,
just trying to figure life out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
doesn’t care if you’re 45, just lost your job, and have 4 kids to raise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t care if you’re rich, poor, nice,
mean, ugly, or beautiful. In the eyes of cancer and aplastic anemia, we are all
the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am the 65-year-old woman
next to me in the waiting room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am the
40-year-old businessman sitting across from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am them and they are me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also fell in love with the camaraderie of being in a room
full of people dealing with an awful, uncontrollable situation and still having
reason to laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And still finding a reason
to praise God. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I fell in love with the way it feels to hear someone who’s
been through your fight 20 years ago and look you in the eye and say, “You’ll
be alright.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I fell in love with witnessing the kind of love and loyalty
it takes to be the friend, family member, the neighbor, who’s sitting silently in
support of their sick loved one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What’s so great about Detroit is that it may be down on its
luck, but it sure doesn’t feel sorry for itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because maybe they don’t have jobs, and maybe
they have cancer, but no one walked into that hospital alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A grandmother walked into the treatment
center with her grandson helping her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Two sisters walk in together, sharing stories about their spouses, their
childhood, and their children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
they didn’t have everything, but they had each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Dad likes to say that all the Allens were born with
shovels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were born with shovels so
that when life gets hard we can dig in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And when life gets harder, you don’t give up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You just get a bigger shovel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or you call your family and tell them to
bring theirs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the face of something as scary as cancer and aplastic
anemia can be, it’s easy to want to turn your back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s easy to want run from it and whisper
quietly to your neighbors about what a shame it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it takes an incredible community to turn
and face, and dig in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Detroit is packing
some seriously big shovels with the challenges that they have faced and it has
left a group of people that are not to be messed with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will forever be indebted to Detroit for showing a girl
from Ypsi the meaning of community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For showing me that it’s possible to face adversity with
grace, laughter, and an unwavering faith in God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And for lending me their shovel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>;)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love, Kelsey<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-63182233832564112552012-01-18T08:36:00.001-08:002012-01-18T08:39:53.805-08:00Right on Time<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember in my last post when I said that I needed to get
through the heaviness and find the lightness that I knew was to come??</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found it. :)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can feel that heaviness leaving me and replacing it is
sort of a rush of happiness and contentment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An expansion of my view of the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The feeling that doors are opening in
front of me and the uncertainty of what the next few years will bring tastes
sweet and hopeful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve started my classes and my internship and the greatest
gift that I have received is that the response to my return consisted of
mostly, “welcome back” messages, or “I’m glad that you’re doing well,” a few
people asked how I’m feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
for the most part, the surprise and awkwardness of coming back from this was
short-lived and very supportive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve been back for about 2 weeks and it already feels normal to be here
doing all of these wonderfully normal things.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right now almost everything that I do makes me feel
lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the silliest things,
remind me that a month ago I didn’t have this privilege.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel lucky to be in grad school
(although that doesn’t mean I’m not beyond excited to graduate).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel lucky to slug it out in my
internship for a small stipend that doesn’t even cover my rent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel lucky to walk in the freezing
cold to the tiny gym at Pitt and spend my 30 minutes sweating on the
elliptical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel lucky to watch
Friends with my roommate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel
lucky to make dinner for a friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel lucky to wash my own dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel lucky to feel soreness in my muscles from exerting
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel lucky to feel tired
from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">doing something</i> rather than
fatigued from a medical condition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There’s definitely a big difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think part of what makes this mean so much is that not
very long ago, my health was improving, but I still felt sluggish and
down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though my counts were
going up, I didn’t feel good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
thought of coming back to school felt daunting and scary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think part of me didn’t want to come
back at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few months ago, I was searching the Internet for some
post-chemo exercise plans (which as it turns out don’t really exist, but I
really think they should), and I found an article on post-cancer
depression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was written by a NY
Times journalist who was blogging about his experience surviving testicular
cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/29/after-cancer-treatment-waiting-for-the-sadness-to-lift/">http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/29/after-cancer-treatment-waiting-for-the-sadness-to-lift/</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“After more than a year of diagnosis, treatment and waiting,
it’s almost as if, finally and unexpectedly, my psyche heaved a sigh and gave
itself permission to implode.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His words described exactly what I was feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That tiniest feeling of validation to
what I had been thinking was all the push that I needed to know that I wasn’t
alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I wasn’t crazy for
feeling depressed after having gone through this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The article states that nearly 25% of cancer survivors face
depression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even finish
the whole blog post before I picked up the phone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Going to see a therapist was one of the best things that I
did for myself during this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
got to be completely honest about my fears and feelings without worrying about
upsetting the other person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
a huge part of the healing process for me, and I am so glad that I took the
time to dig into what was making me so sad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because honestly, this feeling as I write this right now, is
totally worth it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel
great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it is so much more than
my counts going up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think there is a little tiny part of me that didn’t want
to write about going to a therapist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is a part of me that wants to be the type of person who just
skates through tribulation in life with ease, and without professional
help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the truth is that I could
have survived this experience without counseling, sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I would not feel as I do now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would feel physically better, without
a doubt, but the fogginess of depression would still be with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I would push through it, because
I’m stubborn, but it would be hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And maybe I would have days where I ask myself, am I depressed? Maybe I
should see a counselor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I
never would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would just push
forward, through the heaviness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you see the difference?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorting through my sadness in Michigan means that being in
Pittsburgh today, I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not haunted by the nightmare I
just survived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not falling
asleep still shaking from the experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am not anxious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not
held back by suppressed emotion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
am present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found this quote on Pinterest (obsessed, I admit), and I
think it pretty much sums up this feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being back in school feels right in a way that I can’t quite
put my finger on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels like it
was supposed to be this way all along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am exactly where I need to be, when I need to be there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Your journey has
molded you for your greater good.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And it was exactly
what it needed to be.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t think that
you’ve lost time.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It took each and every
situation you have encountered to bring you to the now.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And now is right on time.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As always, thanks for reading :)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kelsey</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-71065840650352219752011-12-17T08:19:00.000-08:002011-12-17T08:19:02.966-08:00Put the Gun Down<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">[So I started writing this on a the bus, but actually I'm currently in my apartment in Pittsburgh, not the Megabus just so you know]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Hello from a Megabus! I’m on my way to Pittsburgh right now, heading back to my apartment, my life, my friends, my old self.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have this feeling now that I’m creeping closer to the day when I get to resume grad school and working that it’s too soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I felt like I had all the time in the time in the world to prepare for re-immersion into the real world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> But a</span>ll of a sudden it seems so soon and so fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a few weeks the semester will start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll go back to my internship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll be living in my apartment again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much, so quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s freaking me out a little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want it to happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I’m just questioning how hard of a transition it will be for me psychologically, emotionally, and physically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Am I going to be too tired to do everything?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I get depressed if I can’t?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I be able to graduate this summer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These are the questions running through my head these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that I’ve let go of a lot of the uncertainty that came with this course of treatment, I feel more confident that health-wise I will continue to improve and (hopefully) reach full remission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However letting go of that uncertainty means that I’ve made room for all sorts of new worries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve let go of being in “survival mode” and now all the emotion and feelings that I pushed aside and told, “I’ll deal with you later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not the time for tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a time for strength and positivity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have to survive, so hush, you’ll get your turn soon enough.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well here they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Demanding attention, having waited their turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I don’t want to pay them any attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to sort through sadness and anxiety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want happiness and celebration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to feel good and light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But there is no denying that there is a feeling of heaviness lingering around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The feeling that you just went through something big and you need to look it in the eye and give it its due respect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The bell has sounded and the hard part is over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s only right that I turn around and take one last look at my defeated opponent, to put my hand on his shoulder and say, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You fought well, but I fought better.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And “You’re strong, but not as strong as I am.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, “You were tough opponent, but just not as tough as I am.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But I don’t want to turn around and look back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if he has one more hit in him, one that I can’t block?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to keep <s>walking </s>running away and never look back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used up all my bravery to get this far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m all tapped out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (Can't someone else do it for me?)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s like at the end of a scary movie, after the bad guy is assumed dead, but he always has one last scare in him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if he’s lying on the floor bleeding like mad, you’re still nervous because he’s in your sight and history has proven that the bad guy always has one last murder attempt in him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you have to yell at the main character, “Don’t you put that gun down, girl! You know he isn’t dead!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aplastic anemia is still too close for comfort and I don’t know if I can put the gun down, as much as I want to move on.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s like if you’ve been in a car accident or close call, you know that you don’t relax immediately after you’re out of danger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just because the impact is over and you’ve pulled your car over to the side of the road, doesn’t mean you are calmly waiting for medical attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The adrenaline will run through your body and you’ll be shaking for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the next time you get into a car or drive past that intersection where you got hit, that feeling will return, and you’ll remember how scared you were.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That’s where I am right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m here and I survived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I intellectually believe the worst is over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m still reeling from the impact of the crash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hands are shaking, my legs feel weak, and my mind is still spinning with the possibility of a very different ending to this story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Part of me is not fully convinced that it’s okay to put the gun down, take the boxing gloves off, and walk away from the crash (I’m apparently loving the analogies this morning).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Part of me doesn’t believe that life will leave me alone now because I’ve proven I’m not to be messed with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can still feel this disease hanging over my shoulder, holding me back.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Baby steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that’s key.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not going to be the same person I was when I left, the moment I move back to Pittsburgh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think expecting myself to be will only make me depressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And unfortunately, as much as I want to bury these feelings, I think I have to let myself feel the weight of what just happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to let myself be sad, because I am a little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to let myself be disappointed with life, because I am a little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I have to let myself believe that I am strong enough to feel those things without becoming them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happiness feels lighter when it’s not a mask covering up sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And </span>I want the lightness that I know is to come. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With heaps and tons of love and appreciation,</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kelsey</div><!--EndFragment-->Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-13448265167659197302011-12-05T10:38:00.000-08:002012-01-18T08:40:26.589-08:00The Weird Stuff They Forgot to Mention (plus updates)<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">So I’ve already told you guys about some of the joyous side effects of my medications (i.e. extra chin, hairy man-legs).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those are fairly typical side effects with Cyclosporine and steroids, but there are also some things that are not as typical that I get to enjoy as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been gathering this little list in my head for a while so I thought I would share them with you peeps:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Hand tremors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You should see me try to put on mascara or paint my nails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eating soup is also ridiculous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like I’m 80 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Leg Cramps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’ve been standing or walking for a while, my legs and my feet start to hurt pretty badly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes cooking time-consuming meals and shopping trips difficult. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Burning hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This one is weird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’m cold my hands hurt like they’re burning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best way that I can describe it is like the feeling that you get when you come inside after playing outside in the snow for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know how your hands are so cold but the house is warm and your hands kind of burn but it’s hard to tell if they are really hot or really cold?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also can’t tell when things are hot and cold by touching them with my hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I reheat something in the microwave, I touch them with my finger and it will feel like it’s really hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I take a bite and it’s lukewarm or cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s so strange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I’m not the best person to ask to reheat something for you, unless you don’t mind me taking a bite of it to see if it’s warm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Space Cadet status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cyclosporine makes you feel like you’re in a fog, everyday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s probably the most frustrating side effect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And surprisingly, it is the most evident to me in social situations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’m in a group of people and trying to follow the conversation, it’s a struggle to stay focused on what everyone is saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So if we’re having a conversation and my eyes glaze over or start to wander, it’s not because I don’t care what you’re saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just that it’s hard to concentrate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Scaley Palms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bear says it looks like I’m turning into an amphibian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I get out of the shower, my hands look pruney (normal), but the palms of my hands are hard and peeling (not normal).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s worse on my left hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea what it’s all about, but maybe Bear’s right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m turning into an amphibian :).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Oily skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yay acne! I missed you and was really hoping you’d come back for a visit in my mid-twenties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Flushing skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I’ll be in the middle of telling a story and all of a sudden I turn pink from my chest to my forehead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m not embarrassed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just hot and pink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It happens after laughing or crying also.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s weird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">8.)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Long, long hair and long, long eyelashes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes! There is such a thing as a good side effect! The silver lining :)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">As a result of the above weirdness, I’ve picked up some habits to adjust to the side effects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I’m a space cadet and have a hard time focusing, when I’m in a group of people I tend to choose one or 2 people to talk to and ignore the rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not trying to be rude, but I just can’t keep track of so many people’s convos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">When I’m watching a TV program that has a complicated plot, sometimes my brain just completely ignores certain subplots of the show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, if there’s a crime show that has a love story in it, I’ll only follow the love story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t tell you who killed who, but I know who hooked up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not a conscious decision, it just happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Shortly after entering a store or house, I know all the places that I can sit down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m constantly surveying for places to put my butt if/when my legs start to hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is especially true in large stores, like Meijer, Costco, Sam’s Club, any home improvement store, and any store with “Super” in front of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Seriously Lowe’s is like my worst nightmare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is it SO big??)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Summer was good because most stores like these have outdoor lawn furniture on display.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, I’m just trying out this lovely bench swing you have here…no biggie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody even looks twice at you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that it’s colder it gets tricky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve had to improvise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to Costco with my mom and sister a while ago and needed to sit down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked for the any piece of furniture on display to sit on…nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked by the concessions…all tables were full.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we wandered down the soup aisle and at the end I found a stack of sacks of rice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not too low, not too tall…slightly embarrassing to sit on?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does it matter when you’re that tired?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes you’ve just gotta do what you’ve gotta do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I sat on those sacks of rice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it was glorious.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I went to the doctor last Thursday and my counts were:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Platelets: 59,000 <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hb: 10.2<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WBC: 2.2 </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Platelets are sloowwwwly climbing and my hemoglobin is the highest it’s been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yay!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My white blood cells were down a bit, probably because I had a fever on Monday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanksgiving was lovely and delicious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister and I completed the Ann Arbor Turkey Trot for the 4<sup>th</sup> year in a row, although we had to walk it this year since <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">somebody</i> went and got a disease…geeeez what a downer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>;)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I also enrolled for classes next semester (waaahhhooooooooooooo!!!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really no one should ever be that excited to take grad school classes, but I think you can imagine why I am pretty pumped.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks for reading this random update, and I hope you’re enjoying the holidays!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kelsey</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-35813642821936291572011-11-13T14:25:00.000-08:002011-11-13T14:25:39.581-08:00On Kindness<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><!--StartFragment--> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">I read the book, <i>Love is a Mixed Tape</i> a few years ago. It’s a memoir written by a reporter for <i>Rolling Stone</i> about falling in love with his wife and then dealing with her sudden death a few years after they were married. It’s a great book, in spite of the sad premise; especially if you’re one of those people who can define different periods of their life with what music they were listening to at the time (guilty). When Sheffield loses his wife he is heart-broken over the loss. However as life moves forward, he realizes that there is something else equally as heartbreaking that goes along with loss and difficult times in life. And that is the tidal wave of human kindness that inevitably follows every tragedy. </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">“Human benevolence is totally unfair. We don't live in a kind or generous world, yet we are kind and generous. We know the universe is out to burn us, and it gets us all the way it got Renee, but we don't burn each other, not always. We are kind people in an unkind world, to paraphrase Wallace Stevens. How do you pretend you don't know about it, after you see it? How do you go back to acting like you don't need it? How do you even the score and walk off a free man? You can't. I found myself forced to let go of all sorts of independence I thought I had, independence I had spent years trying to cultivate. That world was all gone, and now I was a supplicant, dependent on the mercy of other people's psychic hearts.”</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">―</span><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"> <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/25839.Rob_Sheffield"><span style="color: #433f12; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Rob Sheffield</span></a>, <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/45332"><i><span style="color: #433f12; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Love is a Mix Tape</span></i></a></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">If you have ever been ill or lost someone close to you or been through a tough time, you know the way that the kindness of others can build you up and break your heart at the same time. Being sick has exposed me to so much kindness that I will never be the same. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">When I was initially diagnosed with aplastic anemia, I was studying abroad in Ecuador and had to be medically evacuated on a small jet to Miami. Once I was in the U.S., it was my own problem how I was going to get back home to Michigan. I stayed in the hospital in Miami for a while but needed to eventually get home for treatment. I was too sick to fly commercially (low platelets + cabin pressure = potential cranial bleeding = no good), so I had 2 options: pay approximately 30,000 dollars for a private charter plane to take me home, flying at a lower, safe altitude, or drive from FL to MI. And here comes the kindness kicker: the head doctor at the health clinic at Michigan State University (where I was going to school) offered to fly down and drive with us back so that she could monitor my health throughout the trip. I had never met her before. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">That seemed like our only option, until a family acquaintance called to say that he had extra time on his charter plane and offered to let us use his plane. For free. I had never met him before. I still have never met either of them.</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">When I first got diagnosed, my second cousin called my parents from Afghanistan to say that he was getting registered to be a bone marrow donor. This I just can’t understand. My second cousin…risking his life for our country…calls from a war zone…to offer his support…and his bone marrow to me. ME. WHY?</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">My sister went to visit her boyfriend, Sean’s uncle who is far too young to be in hospice care, fighting brain cancer. When my sister arrived his wife asked her, “How’s your sister doing? We’ve been praying for her.” To which, Sean’s uncle added, “She’s at the top of our list”.</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">When I was diagnosed, my community hosted a bone marrow drive for me. Hundreds of people came. People I hadn’t spoken to in years, people who knew my mom but had never met me, people who heard the story and just showed up. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">My dad is a hockey writer and has covered the NHL for over 25 years. I have always heard that the hockey community is a small one and they take care of each other. Since getting sick I know this to be true without question. There was a week after I came home from the hospital where I got a package everyday from an NHL team or employee. A cookie basket from the Nashville Predators. A package from the Pittsburgh Penguins with a Pens hat, bobble head and a letter from Mario Lemieux. A sweatshirt from the NHLPA. A t-shirt and keychain from the Anaheim Ducks. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Are you shaking your head at this list?? I am. I am floored by these stories. I understand kindness. I have seen moments that leave me feeling like my chest might explode from witnessing such selflessness. But it something quite different when it is directed towards me. It confuses me because I feel undeserving. It pulls my heart in a million directions. It makes me sad for some reason, but it also brings me joy. It makes me want to cry, but it also makes me smile. But most of all, it is humbling. It’s like if everyone figured out that you couldn’t afford groceries, and when you came home to your house, every room was full of groceries. What you were once lacking, you now have in abundance, and you can’t help but look around, touched, but wondering, “What will I ever do with all of this?” </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">That’s how I feel about the kindness in those stories. What will I ever do with all of this? Because it is certainly more than I ever expected.</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">I think that this is the type of kindness Rob Sheffield was talking about. It’s in the moment in life when your world collapses around you and you think you might never heal from it. When you think your legs will never be able bear your own weight again because the sadness, the fight that’s ahead of you is too much. It’s in those moments when the kindness and strength of your rallying community will take your sorrow and fear and turn them to ash. And it is an incredible thing to experience. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">But it also comes with a price. Because this type of generosity will make that cynical, self-preserving person inside you, squirm uncomfortably. That strong-willed, independent person that you’ve been building up your whole life, will not survive the assault. After you’ve been on the receiving end of such kindness, you cannot go on thinking that people are to be kept at arm’s length, because there is too much potential to get hurt. You can’t go on thinking that you don’t need anyone, that you can do it all alone. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"> The truth is that while we celebrate individuality and independence in this country, we need each other. No man is an island, no matter how hard he tries. We were never meant to go through this life alone, especially not the difficult times. So I’m giving it up. The independent, stubborn girl inside of me is buckling under the weight such generosity. I’ll acknowledge that I need the kindness of others. I need help sometimes. I cannot do it alone. But I also promise to return the favor. I will recognize the weakness and silliness of myself but only so that when I see it in others, I will feel empathy and offer in abundance what has been given to me without hesitation.</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"> If you can kill someone with kindness, then I have been killed 10 times over by all of you who have said a prayer on my or my family’s behalf, or hugged my mom, asked my dad how his daughter’s doing, or read and commented on this little blog, or sent a card, a care package, an email, or the tiniest good thought my way. Your goodness fills me up and encourages me. It reminds me that God is good and will provide us comfort in difficult times. I cannot thank you enough. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #101010; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"> I had coffee with my pastor and his wife recently and we talked about our love of international work and ministry. He told me how much he wants to work internationally, but that his love for his family always brings him home. He told me that people are like warehouses, always needing eventually to be restocked with whatever we need in order to continue to do good in this world. Without intending to, this time at home has allowed me to restock the shelves that were getting filled with anxiety and fear, with all things good and light. And I owe it to all of you. So thank you, for breaking my heart in the best possible way. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">No counts to report this week because they gave me a week off of going to the doctor. I have an appointment Tuesday and I will let you know then! I have knocked a few things off my 25 by 25 list too. I'll tell you all about it soon :)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Kelsey</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-92219901105203704512011-11-06T11:33:00.000-08:002011-11-06T11:34:09.920-08:0025 by 25<div class="MsoNormal">Here it is! The challenge I've given myself as a way to kill time/improve my culinary skills while I have free reign of my parents' kitchen and cooking supplies. :) It's a pretty random collection of 25 things that I have never made (or never <i>successfully </i>made, I should say), to be completed by my 25th birthday next April. I'll keep you posted with how it's going!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">1.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Yeast bread</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">2.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Fruit pie from scratch</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">3.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Sea scallops</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">4.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Pizza dough</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">5.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Lofthouse-type sugar cookies</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">6.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Lasagna</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">7.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Hummus</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">8.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Sweet rolls</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">9.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Olga bread</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">10.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Pot roast</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">11.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span> Pork carnitas</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">12.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>crab rangoons</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">13.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span> pasta carbonara</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">14.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span> pasta with vodka sauce</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">15.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span> oreo truffles</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">16.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>red velvet cake/cupcakes</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">17.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>basil pesto</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">18.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Blondies</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">19.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Soft pretzels</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">20.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Homemade salsa</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">21.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Biscotti </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">22.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Dish with Tempeh</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">23.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Risotto</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">24.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>El Azteco Cheese Dip</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">25.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Empanadas</div>Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-33023438537286491932011-11-02T18:33:00.000-07:002011-11-02T18:33:01.238-07:00This and That<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The past week and a halfish have been GREAT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And here’s the highlights:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>My platelets went up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Allllll the way to 40,000! If I could high-five my bone marrow, I totally would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well done, little platelets!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>And since my platelets went up so nicely, I got to have my picc line removed!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sayonara, sucker! </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>And since I got my picc line removed, I get to take showers without having to ask my mom to wrap my arm in cling wrap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I can sleep on my left side now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bonus!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>And hold onto your seats, people…I got to shave my legs!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adios, Sasquatch legs!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>My brother Shane and his wife+baby bump came to visit from Chicago for Shaner’s birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their visit meant dinner at our fave Mexican restaurant, going to the movies, pumpkin donuts from the cider mill, breakfast at our favorite diner, and pumpkin carving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which was a disaster on my end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m still a wimp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to hand the reins over to my brother by the end because I was too tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty lame.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I made a layered cake for the first time in my life for Shane’s birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a success!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took two days and all of my energy, but it was bomb.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I got to spend the weekend with my sister and her boyfriend, my best friend from college and a blue pit bull named Blue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is always a winning combination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yes, Blue is as cute as he sounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">8.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I got a care package from my roommate in Pittsburgh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it is a well-known fact that care packages make everything better. :)</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">9.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I went back to the doctor today and my platelets went up to 45,000.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hemoglobin is 9.5 and WBC are 3.0.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have to get my counts checked again for 2 weeks!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">10.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And to top off this happiness, with my counts on the rise, there is likely a visit to the ‘Burgh in my future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And maybe my bro and sis in Chicago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YAY!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t wait! :)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh! And speaking of baking, I’ve decided to steal an idea from some of the food bloggers that I follow/am obsessed with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen lots of food bloggers who are nearing their 30<sup>th</sup> bday do “30 by 30” lists where they try to complete 30 recipes they’ve never made by the time that they’re 30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But since I don’t think I need 6 years to finish 30 recipes, I’ve decided to do “25 by 25”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This might be a bit ambitious since I only have 6 months to do this, but I’ve currently got nothing but time on my hands, so why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll give you my list in a different post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks for reading! And Happy November! :)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kelsey</div><!--EndFragment-->Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-23878747705782608082011-10-23T17:12:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:47:37.020-07:00In the Stillness<div class="MsoNormal">It has taken me foreverrrrr to post. I am so sorry if you were worried, but there is nothing to be alarmed about. I’ve just been slacking. (sorry) I wrote this about a week ago, but couldn’t quite wrap it up/couldn’t get myself to click “Publish Post”. Then I had the following conversation with my sister (who I call Bear).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bear: You haven’t posted in a while.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Me: I know. I wrote something, but I just felt kind of…exposed writing it.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bear: Isn’t that kind of the point?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Me:….yea…I guess it is.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So I’ve been nervous about posting this, although last week I told you some pretty humbling information, so I don’t know what I’m concerned about :). But I’m going to post it anyway even though it makes my soul feel exposed, because when I started this blog, I said that I wanted to be as honest as possible mostly for others going through the same thing or who will go through something similar and happen to stumble across this. And you never know how your story will affect others, so I will put this out into the universe and let it decide what it all means. Enjoy :)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the Stillness</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In my normal life, you know, the one where I am going to school or working full time or interning or doing some combination of the three, I am anxious. I always feel like I am one mistake away from everything collapsing around me. Have you ever felt like you had everyone fooled in some way or another and it was only a matter of time before everyone realized that you were a fraud? That maybe you don’t have it all together. That you’re not smart enough to be here. That you have more questions than answers about the faith that you love so dearly. I have always felt this. I have always felt that what I outwardly project is not an accurate representation of what happens below the surface. Because below the surface is utter chaos. There is a constant battle between who I am and who I strive to be. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I am in my normal state I long for moments of stillness. I long for times when the chaos is quieted and I feel sure. I need reminders of how faith and community can strengthen a person from the inside out. And I find these moments early in the morning when I’m the first one awake and my apartment is quiet. There is stillness in the coffee I sip while staring out the dining room window, when the world is still calm and it feels like God and I are alone. I find the quiet when I run. When my mind empties itself and with every step I leave behind another insecurity, another fear that weighs me down. I find the peace in kind, confident words from someone who knows me inside and out, and believes in me. When I finally confess my anxiety to a friend and they gently remind me of all the things that make me, me. They remind me that even if all my fears came true, even if all of my dreams and aspirations failed horribly, they would land softly in the arms of my faith, my friends, and my family, and those failures would become opportunities. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But this current state is not my normal state. I am not working. I am not going to school. I am not being productive. Unless you consider completing season 1 of Gossip Girl, productive… This season of my life is defined by stillness. I have what I am normally so desperate for. My mind is calm and quiet. I’m not struggling to move forward and get ahead in life. I’ve taken a hiatus from stressing about where I “should” be at 24 in this society. I don’t really care. It’s so far from my current state of mind, I can hardly remember what it felt like to be concerned with it. A hush has fallen over my normally anxiety-ridden mind. The storm has quieted, and the ocean is calm. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What’s ironic about this, is that I feel less anxious now, when facing serious health issues, than before, when I was dealing with papers and deadlines and everyday stress. The stakes are much higher now, and yet…that familiar knot of anxiety that normally occupies my chest, is gone. Weird, right?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But maybe not. My friend’s mom was diagnosed with colon cancer a few years ago and is now in remission. Her diagnosis came after spending years juggling the stress of being a mom to three kids and very successful businesswoman. I didn’t know her before, but my friend tells me that she is far more relaxed now, even facing cancer, than she was being supermom. She enjoys her family, and her life, more now. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think what it really comes down to is perspective. How often in life do you get to tell everything and everyone in life, “You go ahead without me for a bit, I just need a few months off”. For most people, the answer is never. And yet here I am, in the midst of such a blessing. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is not a statement about how the sky is now bluer and that flowers smell sweeter. Not exactly, anyway. I don’t spend my days frolicking through fields and smiling into the sun’s glow. [Okay sometimes I do the second one…] But I’m still me. With the same insecurities and curiosities. This post is more to say that in facing this disease, I have realized that I have no control over how my immune system or my bone marrow behaves. I don’t have the power to cure myself. And that lack of control can lead you to two places: the first is swimming in anxiety and panic because no amount of effort on your part will change this situation. But what I have found is that in situations where you lack control, there is also opportunity to find a quiet place to let go of the struggle and let God handle things. And in that place, there is an incredible amount of serenity. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Counts for 2 weeks ago:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Platelets 12,000 Hemoglobin: 7.9 WBC: 2.7</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had my first and only transfusion since I’ve been home from the hospital. I had 2 units of whole blood because my hemoglobin dropped to 7.9. As much as I don’t want to have to get transfusions, I felt much better afterward. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Counts for Last week:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Platelets: 25,000 Hemoglobin: 9.8 WBC: 2.9</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My energy level is MUCH better now than it was a few weeks ago. I’ve started going for walks on the path near my house and am feeling pretty good!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks for reading and caring :)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kelsey</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-83737745128730527332011-10-07T11:35:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:46:38.526-07:00Good Times on Cyclosporine<div class="MsoNormal">If I had to name two things that I am most insecure about in my physical appearance, I would say, like most women, #1 would be my weight. The second would be my combination of pale Irish skin and thick, dark brown hair. I’m not one of those girls who can go a week without shaving and you can’t even tell because their hair is so light. I hate those girls. I’ve got 2 days before I start to look like a man. Guess what 2 major side effects of ATG are??</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Weight gain. And excess hair growth. SWEET.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Couldn’t I get a disease that made me skinny and hot?? Is that so much to ask?? I suppose it is. But sometimes if you’re really quiet you can hear the universe giggling at the silly joke they just played on me. Let’s make the girl who’s insecure about body hair and her weight, fatter and hairier! Tehehehe. Needless to say, I am lookin’ like a dime piece these days. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh and it gets better too. I’m growing hair faster than you can say, “get your hairy self to a beauty salon!”, BUT….my platelets are so low that I have to stay away from sharp objects, and hot wax. That’s right. I’m not allowed to shave! Or wax. Or even use tweezers. I can use Nair I suppose but it pretty much sucks and smells like cancer in a bottle because of all the chemicals in it. So if you run into me at Kroger looking like a chubby hippie with a unibrow, you might think “Wow, she really let herself go…” and I might want to say, “I swear it’s the Cyclosporine, I don’t usually look like this!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But of course, gaining weight and hairiness are DEFINITELY worth it when it means I get to be healthy and resume my normal life again. So as much as it sucks, you eventually learn to laugh at it. And it really is kind of funny, let’s be honest. At least this time I knew it was coming. I didn’t get much of a warning the first time. I just woke up one morning, and SURPRISE! You’re as hairy as a gorilla! And so chubby it looks like someone inflated you like a balloon! Good times. :) But like last time, it’s only temporary. I’ve finished tapering off the steroids, which means I no longer have the appetite of a line backer and my platelets are on their way up, which means I will be able to shave again (hopefully) soon. Thank goodness for small blessings. And family and friends who love me in spite of unattractive side effects. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Also, if you’re wondering why it has taken me forever to write this blog post. I am truly sorry, but another glorious side effect of Cyclosporine (which if you didn't know, is the immunosuppressant that I take 4 of everyday), is difficulty focusing. Basically my brain is mush right now, so it takes me a while to form original thoughts and get motivated to do anything cerebral. Sorry! I’ll try to do better though. I promise!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Counts Update (as promised):</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Last week: 9.0 Hemoglobin, 19,000 platelets and 4.0 WBC</div><div class="MsoListParagraph"> This week my counts are 8.2 Hb, 22,000 platelets and 2.2 WBC</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m not quite sure what the up and down means with my counts and honestly, I don’t think the doctors do either. But my doctor (who’s a genius) says not to worry, so I’m not going to, and you shouldn’t either. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks again for reading this. I hope it made you laugh a little and I hope you have a beautiful day! Oh and GO TIGERS!!!! (we beat the Yankees!!) And GO LIONS!!! (we’re undefeated!) And it’s the home opener for the Red Wings, GO WINGS!!! It’s a great time to be quarantined in the greater Detroit area :) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kelsey</div>Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-30963534413310000972011-09-25T15:57:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:50:01.656-07:00Baby Giraffes and Week One Recovery<div class="MsoNormal">I saw this video on animal planet once about the first few days of a baby giraffe’s life. He was all wobbly and tired all the time. It was adorable. His mom would nudge him to get him to try his legs out and he would hobble along for a bit until he got tired, and then plop down, exhausted, and wait for his mom to bring food or make him try again. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That pretty much sums up the week so far. With me playing the part of baby giraffe. I’ve spent most of the week in bed except when my mom is coaxing me out of it with the promise of food or just to move around. I haven’t felt nauseous or feverish (yay!), but holy smokes, I am tired. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I thought I should take the time to explain a little bit about what the next month or so are expected to be like. Aplastic anemia is such a rare disease, that there’s not necessarily a set script on how the ATG will work, which makes it a bit tricky, you see. In order for this treatment to be successful, the doctors are looking for any sign that my body is producing blood on its own (hence the count checks 3 times a week). The last time that I had the treatment, it took about 3 months before it started to work. Of course that doesn’t mean that it will be the same this time. It could very well work sooner. It could very well be later. (And it could just not work, but I like to keep that door firmly closed in my mind). So every week the doctors will look at my counts focusing on 3 things: Hemoglobin, Platelets, and White Blood Cells. I’ll try to post every week what my counts are for those keeping track also. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This week:</div><div class="MsoNormal">my hemoglobin is about 8.5 as of Friday (Normal is 12-15)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Platelets dropped to 13,000 (Normal is 150,000-300,000)</div><div class="MsoNormal">White blood cell count is 3.9 </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As you can see there’s a long way to go here, but as far as I’m concerned, the best part about being near rock bottom, is that there’s really only way to go. And that, my friends, is onward and upward. Who’s with me?! :) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Okay that is all for now. Hope the world outside of these four walls is going well. I miss it dearly already. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kelsey</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-79051293701867822492011-09-19T17:16:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:51:53.492-07:00Home Sweet HomeA<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Plus one picc line, a few pounds, and a lot of medication, but it feels SO good to be home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The treatment went pretty well this time. The first day was, as expected, the toughest. Before they start the chemo everyday a nurse comes in and gives premeds, which for me was Tylenol, Benadryl, and steroids. And let me tell you, you haven’t experienced Benadryl until you’ve had it injected directly into your bloodstream. That stuff is powerful. It only takes a few seconds before your head feels like it weighs 50 lbs. Which can be a good thing when you’re about to start 6 hours of chemo. Only problem is, that lovely sleepy feeling is followed by a high dose of steroids, which do NOT make you sleepy. Quite the opposite. Every sound is perfectly clear and sounds like it’s happening inside your ear. And your legs act like they’re about to take off and run a marathon. Like they just don’t understand why you’re laying down when they’ve got miles to run. And thus the battle begins between your groggy head and your twitchy legs. The good news is, your body quickly gets used to the medicine and by day two all these symptoms are less. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By the end of day one’s treatment, I had chills and was starting to get a fever and back pains. I also needed a blood transfusion because hemoglobin had dropped to 6.7 (normal range is 12-15). But you can’t have a transfusion when you have a high fever, so I had to take Tylenol and wait until my fever went down to get a transfusion. And it eventually did. And those 2 units of blood were glorious. The next morning I felt so much stronger, I never got another fever, and the next three days of treatment were a walk in the park in comparison. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My next objective is recovery. While I didn’t have as many side effects from the chemo as I did the first time around, I do feel more drained this time and I’m looking forward to sleeping at home and hopefully getting some energy back. There will be lots of movie marathons on the menu for me this week, I think :) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thank you SO much for all of your prayers and words of support this past week. I felt and appreciated every one of them. Never for a moment did I feel like I was alone in this. Thank you again for reading :) </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Love,</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Kelsey</o:p></div>Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-65760299557301757802011-09-11T16:13:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:54:08.773-07:00Let's Roll: The Night Before Chemo<div class="MsoNormal"> Tomorrow is the big day. I’m starting treatment for my relapse of aplastic anemia. It will be the same type of treatment as I had when I was first diagnosed three years ago, so I know what I’m getting myself into this time. 4 (or 5) days of chemo (called ATG) in the hospital and then home to recover. The first day will be the worst, because the chemo contains antibodies from a horse and it is normal for the body to have a strong immune response to the foreign cells. And yes, they’re seriously going to put horse cells in me tomorrow. It’s kind of cool, actually. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> It works like this: Aplastic anemia is an autoimmune disease. It causes my own T-cells (immune cells) to attack my bone marrow and prevent it from producing blood. This is no good, because obviously blood is quite necessary. So the treatment for aplastic anemia, is to suppress the T-cells so that the individual is free to start producing blood again. To do this, a horse is injected with human T-cells, which causes them to produce antibodies against human T-cells. Those antibodies are then extracted and given to me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Still with me? :) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If not, it’s okay. Just thank a horse for me the next time you see one.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The biggest difference between this time around and last time is my mental state. I feel prepared. When I had ATG the first time, it was following this series of events which occurred over the course of 3 weeks: </div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told I was sick.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told I had leukemia.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told I had aplastic anemia.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told I didn’t have aplastic anemia.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told, we’re very sorry but we were wrong, you DO have aplastic anemia.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told I should do the ATG treatment</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told I need a bone marrow transplant </div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told my siblings are not matches</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told I have no matches in the bone marrow registry</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was told I should do ATG</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the day after my 21<sup>st</sup> birthday, I started ATG. And those are just the highlights, there’s even more to the story that I promise to tell you all about someday.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Needless to say, even though I’m only 3 years older, it feels like a different person is entering the ring this time. I have spent this summer mostly at home with my family. I have seen doctor after doctor after doctor. I spent about 2 weeks considering the scariest possibilities and there was one week where I cried everyday because I needed to mourn the loss of my healthy body and acknowledge how hard this is. But since then, I have slowly gathered strength. From seeing and talking to friends, being with family, going to church and resting my body, I’ve created an armor that I didn’t have before. I feel like I’ve looked my opponent square in the eyes, and even though it is just as strong as last time, there is an element of familiarity, and it no longer intimidates me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Since it happens to be the tenth anniversary of 9/11, I’ll end this post with the last audible words that were spoken by the passengers on United flight 93.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Are you guys ready? Let’s Roll.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Wish me luck :)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kelsey</div>Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3378637561687724950.post-23994580794905188112011-09-08T06:40:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:54:30.624-07:00When Life Hands You Lemons<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Everyone’s life contains some element of bitterness to it. There is something that happened to them that they wish hadn’t. Or something terrible that happened to a loved one. Or something they did that they regret. Everyone at some point in his or her lives is handed a lemon. Or two. Or a bushel. Or a whole stinking tree.<br />
<br />
I believe that life's bitter, hard times, are inevitable and universal. No one is exempt from this. It is something that we all will eventually experience. And in theses moments when we’re being pelted with lemons by the mean old arm of life, we always have a choice. You can do nothing to stop the external forces of life. This is true. But as the saying goes, if you really wanted to, you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could</i> borrow a cup of sugar from your nice neighbor, and make yourself some lemonade.<br />
<br />
Or you could gather up the lemons and put them in a pretty glass bowl and use them as a kitchen decoration.<br />
Or you could use the juice from them to clean your dirty cutting board.<br />
Or you could squeeze them over your apple slices to prevent them from browning, because nobody likes brown apples.<br />
Or you could pick them up, give them your best heave and tell life, “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’ve had quite enough of this. Now kindly takes these lemons, and shove it. Please and thank you.”<br />
<br />
The point is, that the world will spin madly on however you choose to respond to your lemons. So what if we looked at them as useful, potentially beautiful things, if we could just find the right angle, the right attitude, to let them be. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">This is easier said than done, believe me, I know. But this is the story of giving it an honest try.<br />
<br />
Kelsey</div>Kelsey Allenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09141855675731259058noreply@blogger.com5