kombucha
When you are first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, it can be pretty terrifying. Any resource you read starts with a depressing paragraph about just how likely you are to die very soon. B started an aggressive chemo (Fulfirinox) regimen in September 2017 which worked until it didn’t throughout that autumn. This meant that about every two weeks he received an infusion for most of a day at Dana Farber and then continued receiving drip medicine/poison through a port and small pack that he carried for two more days. This usually started on a Friday and then we disconnected him on Sunday. The whole infusion was no party but the worst of it hit late Sunday through about Tuesday, when B felt nauseous and he would largely sleep and rest. He described this experience as: “Those are the days that you don’t want to be me.”
Most people around us didn’t know that B had cancer, and by Tuesday he would return to work until the next round. His days may have been a little shorter but he tried not to miss a beat. By late that first week he was riding his bike to work again and by the second ‘in between’ week, he was mostly but not quite better. It wore on him over time, but he never lost his hair and his weight stayed steady because he snacked a lot to manage the nausea. Everything was very normal; and then again it was not.
We were living with what felt like a ticking time bomb sitting in the middle of our home that could blow apart a life, once secure, that suddenly seemed so vulnerable. We hosted B’s mom, aunt, and uncle for Thanksgiving that year, hopeful to have a bustly family Thanksgiving as both a wonderful experience in the moment and memory for the future. It was both. But it is hard not to feel some internal pressure in this circumstance to pay extra attention, make it extra special, as it could be our last together as a family. I stepped out in the middle of the day to walk Callie and find peace with my feelings of love and terror.
Laura from Alaska (LFA) was in NY for Thanksgiving and came by for a few days afterward before heading back to Alaska. Laura was my best friend in sixth grade and part of the still tight clan from Taylor Allderdice High School in Pittsburgh. She showed up and, like only a friend from forever could do, took charge. She made me remember to fill the gas tank in both cars. She decorate our house for Christmas, putting up lights in almost every room, in the backyard, and on mini trees in each of the kids’ rooms. She bought me kombucha.
Laura had spent time in Siberia during (or was it after?) college where people drink kombucha, a fermented tea beverage that is slightly sweet and very bubbly. Now kombucha is a trendy drink earning a whole aisle-end shelf in Whole Foods and even a Trader Joe’s home label. I was reading Super Better (by Jane McGonigal) at the time and was intrigued by the idea of a personal power boost - something that gave you a feeling of love, support, and energy.
After Laura left, whenever I felt like a boost, I found myself yearning for a kombucha. It seemed innocuous at first… lowish in sugar, only $2-$3 / bottle. Perhaps it also had some probiotic qualities, or perhaps it was just a decent bubbly beverage - depends upon the source you read. I’d talk about kombucha in various group text threads, and we’d send each other kombucha wishes on hard days.
It won’t be forever, but for now I start most days with kombucha …. and occasionally sport a second in the afternoon. It means to me bubbly and fresh, friendship and love, adventure and horizons, a private warm cape around my shoulders. A boost.
What are your boosts?