I am tired and I should be sleeping right now so forgive me in advance for my poor grammar, punctuation, and overall rambling that probably doesn’t make much sense.
I have been anxiously waiting for the movie 50/50 to hit theaters and tonight I finally got a chance to see it. I am not a movie person. I love to watch movies but I don’t necessarily go out of my way to see many of them and I have no intention of writing any type of fancy detailed review. Just go see the movie - I promise you will love it. It was fantastic and incredibly realistic. I loved that it showcased what living with cancer is like for someone in their twenties. It was serious enough where it was very realistic but it also included plenty of humor. The screenplay was by Will Reiser, who dealt with cancer himself just a few years ago. All of the details were spot on and I could relate to almost all of the scenarios that played out. The way his oncologist told him his diagnosis was so matter-of-fact by himexplaining his chemotherapy regimen as if it was just an easy and simple routine. That is exactly how it is, the moment they utter the words “you have cancer”, you fall into a complete state of shock and disbelief. They describe everything to you in such a casual manner because they do this for a living and they break news like this to people constantly. You’d think they were discussing with you the score of a Yankee’s game. The movie also focuses on the funny things that people say when they find out you have cancer because they have no idea what else to say to you. I don’t blame them, it’s an uncomfortable conversation to begin with. “My mom’s friend (who’s 30 years older than you) had (insert a cancer you don’t have) and she’s fine now!” “My grandmother had cancer...she died” “You’ll lose your hair but look on the bright side, you’ll get NEW hair!”
Every time they showed IV’s and needles I found it amusing to hear the crowd’s groans of disgust. I used to not be able to look at things like that either but now it doesn’t phase me. Watching the surgery scene really resonated with me. Every little detail was so true to what it’s really like to lay on that stretcher - from signing the consent form and speaking to the anesthesiologist hoping they don’t accidentally kill you, to getting rolled into that insanely brightly lit and sterile operating room, slowly fading out of reality for an hour or two. At one point he’s laying there after surgery high on morphine. I certainly haven’t forgotten that experience and the weird text messages I sent to people.
Very often throughout the movie his response to everyone when asked how he was doing was “I’m fine”. This I really loved because I recall myself saying the same kind of thing. Sometimes when people asked how I was doing it was too exhausting to really tell them how I was doing so a simple “I’m fine” or “I’m good” always worked. Honestly if I were to have really answered that question all the time I could have gone on forever. “I’m fine, really I’m holding up well but at the same time I’m also bald, covered in scars, recovering from surgery, not able to completely live a normal life of a 24-year-old and I'm receiving chemotherapy so yeah, I guess I am as fine as I can be right now?” I was so happy that in one scene he had a freak-out, angry, nervous breakdown moment. For the most part I feel as though many cancer patients, myself included, try to stay calm and do what is needed to survive. However, there always comes a point where you get so angry, pissed off, and frustrated that you just cannot take it anymore. You're sick and tired of it all. I can’t even count how many freak out moments I had but there were plenty. You know that saying “if I had a dollar for every time...”? Let’s just say I’d be really rich by now. I got choked up and either cried or laughed throughout the entire movie, but that means it was a really great movie.
In other news I have a PET scan on Monday. I wasn’t supposed to have one until my 6 month check-up in December but two weeks ago I was experiencing extremely painful chest pains. They were so horrible that the vicodin I was taking was equivalent to popping tic-tacs because IT DID NOTHING. Thankfully the pain is practically all gone now but my oncologist wants to do the scan anyway. I am not nervous about it, it’s more of an annoyance than anything else. It means that tomorrow I can’t eat any carbs, oh the horror. Also, I’ve become so acquainted with my morning green juice but now my Monday morning breakfast will consist of a mocha flavored barium milkshake with a side of radioactive tracer pushed into my veins. Better to be safe than sorry :)
You know what is way more awesome than getting a PET scan though? Running 4 miles non-stop around Central Park!