love and chemotherapy

(bailando debajo de un mariposa -- Tucson, Az. 2007)


"I can't sleep. There's a woman stuck between my eyelids."
-- Eduardo Galeano

There are some things you expect during chemotherapy: fatigue, nausea, hair loss, etc. falling in love isn't one of them.

I remember reading a July post on Joshua Lilienstein's blog. In case you're not familiar, he's a med student at USC that's also a testicular cancer patient (though given all that he's been through, I'm hesitant to compare our scenarios anymore the the generalization i just gave you). Anyway, in his July 3 blog post, he notes taking a break from seeking advice from some of the nations top doctors to attend a wedding in San Francisco. At the event he met a young lady and briefly described the joy and support she'd brought into his life that otherwise would have been a very dark period.

I remember thinking the guy was amazing when I read his post. to find love and a companion in the middle of something like chemotherapy.

on Aug. 16, Guadalupe Rocio Chavez flew out from Los Angeles to visit me in Tucson and her grandfather south in the town of Amado.

her visit was brief: just four days, but our time together sparked something neither one of us expected, or were even seeking. Funny, though because in hindsight neither of us were totally surprised -- we've known each other for seven years -- and this new feeling and relationship is very much welcomed.

she returned to Tucson two weeks later with my parents (she accompanied them on the eight hour drive from L.A. to Tucson -- how's that for a trial by fire!) when she walked in the door my heart and soul leaped. that week of chemo. wasn't bad and I know it was her love and support that helped make it so.

my aunt maria and cousin gabby came to Tucson that week as well. it was obvious to them, whom had never met lupita, that something was afoot.

seriously, who starts a relationship in chemotherapy? the human body is already frail, tired and irritable. the normal things you appreciate, like dancing, certain foods, bike rides and late nights, are temporarily out of grasp. but our days and nights together, whether it was at the cancer clinic, the san xavier mission for mass or sitting at the kitchen table, were so wonderful.

there was a reason i could rise each morning, with little sleep, for chemo and feel strong as they connected my IV to the drugs.

the photo above is something we created the night before she left Tucson.
every day this week the nurses have said that I look tired. and every time they tell me that, i smile to myself and just nod, keeping my little secret that it's not the sleeplessness that makes me seem so. it's because my companera isn't nearby.