Meet Emily Jones, Guest Blogger Number One!

Hey my people, I'm so excited to introduce you to Well Again's first guest blogger, syndicated columnist Emily Jones.  Emily hails from Mississippi, source of 10 thousand funny stories and 10 million good recipes, most of which she can at least fake. Thanks to a run-in with ovarian cancer, Emily recently joined us here in survivorworld, but that's not the most important thing about her. 

Emily Jones is:  1. Hilarious.  2. Incisive.  3. Guru of her own website, deludeddiva.com, where she self-describes as a "retired journalist and master piddler who is slogging through the new world of culinary delights, gardening prowess and holding old age at bay at all costs."  As the Deluded Diva, Emily speaks to "bouncing baby boomers facing their second adulthood" and often facing the fight of their lives in the form of cancer.

Well Again is lucky enough to bring you a column from Emily Jones twice a month until she gets tired of us, which I hope will be never.

Emily's Well Again column debuts tomorrow.  Read, enjoy, share, and congratulate Emily on kicking cancer to the curb!

Cancer, the Mystery. We, the initiates.

Hey my people,

When you run into friends after you've been to Cancerville, they smile and hug you, but there's a certain holding back. Right? A certain awkward silence that was never there before. You can read their minds, although you don't want to. They're thinking: Now that you're back from the dead, who are you?

In a world where cancer is rarely a death trip, that seems really unfair. Like, I've just been through hell and now I have to comfort YOU?

Well, yeah. You do. Cancer is a Mystery, the ancient kind, with a capital M. It's an initiation into a certain kind of priesthood. People fear you afterward, or put you on a pedestal, or get antsy and say dumb things and spill coffee in your lap. That's just how it is. We're different.

After cancer, we'll cook dinner and watch TV and walk the dog. But we'll never be the same.

The first time I had cancer, I wanted to forget it ever happened. The second time, I was so angry, I wanted to rip the world in two. The third time, though, I opened my eyes and saw that I'm in the world's best company. We've been tested, you and I. We've seen the Mystery, and if we can't talk about it to those who stayed behind, is that really so surprising?

Hey my people: That's how I start my posts because that's how I feel about you. If that seems presumptuous—like, if you'd rather be anywhere but in this club—I understand. But I want to be here if you pass this way again. You can't go BACK home after cancer. But you can live to build a new home up ahead. I'm here to help you find it.

Meet Jessica: Cancer Road Warrior

"If I fall down, it could kill me, so I don't fall down," Jessica told me -- as we set out on a two-mile walk. Like me, Jessica is a three-time cancer vet. Unlike me, she has complications that threaten her spine.
Jessica's backbone, however, is rock solid. Cancer ended her job, sapped her savings and forced her out of her home, but she's not bemoaning her losses. She and her pickup truck are hitting the road to see America.
I had the privilege of meeting Jessica when she came through LA. To me, she embodies what Well Again is all about. Cancer has done rotten things to her. She's responding by doing things she's always wanted. Jessica's filling her eyes with new sights and her heart with new memories. She's not falling down. She's embracing the adventure.

If you appreciate Jessica's attitude, then how about sending her a shoutout here on the Well Again blog? Better yet, tell Jessica what town or landmark in America you'd most love for her to see.  

On Black Friday, Joycatching means Bargain-snatching

Hey my people, fierce shopping is part of getting Well Again. They tell us to exercise, right? If the Black Friday rush ain't exercise, I don't know what is. So if you're out today in Macy's, Target, Best Buy etc, I say: Take no prisoners! If you survived chemo, you're definitely strong enough to chase down a flat screen TV. When you get home, tell us: how did it go? Send pix so we can gloat with you! Extra points if you're still bald and you leveraged the sympathy factor to get the last XBox bundle.

True story: A bad girl "trying to be healthy every day"

Hey my people,

Meet my friend Gin B, who's dealing with recurrent breast cancer. I would not care to be the cancer cells messing with Gin B.  She is a strong, smart woman, and she's winning: Her numbers are getting better and her hot spots are getting smaller.  (Suck it up, c cells.)  Had we met a few years ago, Gin and I would have bonded while closing down bars and drag-racing motorcycles. We both inclined to the bad-girl worldview, is what I'm saying. In our peer group, nutrition was not a priority.

But these days Gin has been exploring new ways to kick butt.  Like juicing. 

"I'm on this carrot, beet and orange juice kick, and I LOVE IT!" she told me yesterday. That's after her two daily shots of wheatgrass. "Some days I eat french fries, but I just keep trying to be healthy every day." 

I don't think this rules out racing motorcycles. I figure if there's one thing stronger than juicing, it's juicing with attitude.  

What's your experience? Does defiance come in handy? Or does it make your cancer journey harder?

Can I afford to come out about cancer?

Hey my people, Check out The Sickness Closet, a brilliant column in Salon today by my awesome fellow cancer vet Mary Elizabeth Williams.  The subject is: do we let people know we're dealing with the C, or do we keep it secret? 

I mean, keeping it all a secret just can't be good. I get this picture of my trillions of cells trying to fend off the cancer while also pouring out energy to explain my oddly long lunch hours and my blood-test band-aids, and, who knows, whether my wig is on straight. Talk about your strength-sappers!

On the other hand…  Next to the shock power of the C word itself, the second-most-awful C word comes from your insurance company: CANCELLED.  So the closet starts to look pretty good. Except that hiding encourages people to think cancer is worse than it is.  If we're sick one day, we'll be better the next.  We're not dead.

We're alive, thank you very much!

Most of us who come down with cancer go right on living.  For every curve the illness throws at us, we discover new strength and new purpose. The folks who count us out… and those who want us to keep cancer a deep, dark secret… I'm guessing they're really scared of cancer themselves.  Not that I blame them.

But here's the thing. If I'm hiding my cancer journey, how can I help with yours?

True story: "Cancer is with me every day…"

Cancer Vets Speak: A Well Again Series

Hello, my people! You've been sending me amazing stories about life beyond cancer treatment. Thanks for letting me share them here. We want to hear your truth, so don't be afraid to join in. Everybody's cancer story is different. Somebody out here needs to hear yours. —Warmest regards, Anne

Liz's Story

"I'm a 35 year old breast cancer survivor, diagnosed in August 2009 at 32. Just at the time when seemingly every woman my age I knew was having babies, I was having chemo! It was really hard to stay cheerful at baby showers. I've really worked hard to find my new normal and to embrace the life I have, but cancer is with me every day and always will.

"My number one cancer pet peeve is (and was) war metaphors: "kick its ass," "you're going to beat this thing," "he's a cancer warrior," "she lost the battle'" etc. Like it's just a matter of trying hard enough or something. I know people mean well; I guess that's why it's more of a pet peeve than something that truly enrages me.

Disclaimer: Well Again does not give medical advice. For cancer advice, see a doctor.