Nanon's Bio

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Hello, Party People,

It’s amazing how much a little bit of perspective can enhance your scholastic performance. This is what I thought as I walked from my English class to my Physics class today. Then I returned to praising myself for buying shorts (on sale!) that morning after my first class when it became apparent that I was two degrees short of a heat stroke. I wouldn’t have done that a year ago. A year ago, I would have been praising myself for enduring the heat, so long as no one saw the girth of my thighs.

Last year was a year of profound growth for me, even as my weight remained fairly steady. Sometimes I wondered if I’d live through it when I thought about it, but most of the time I felt just numb. My husband likes to say that my subconscious underwent a retrofit, and my conscious mind just tuned out the jackhammers. I like that analogy very much.

Most of the cause for all of this uncomfortable change had to do with my mom’s breast cancer, and the immense amount of work that went into making her well again. It was a double-edged sword for me, psychologically. It meant that she would be more dependent on me, perhaps for the rest of her life. It meant that she would move in with me, forcing me to relive elements of my childhood that I’d worked very hard to forget. It meant that I’d have to put my own desires on hold yet again, or suffer the consequences of trying to do too much. But it also meant that, although her schizophrenia is beyond my control, I could heal her of something. And I could help to save her life in the process.

The treatment, including chemo and radiation, lasted about a year. Two semesters, in Nanon time. The first semester, while she went to chemo every three weeks and recuperated in our home, I only took two relatively easy classes, and did fairly well. Then I took the summer off to work, and she took the summer off to recuperate. Just as the second semester began, so did her radiation treatments - an everyday endeavor in patience and time management. Feeling desperate for myself, because she had to move in with us for real now, I did the most irrational thing I could have done: I took three really hard science classes. I thought it would keep me distracted and out of the house, and a small part of me hoped that if I did well, I could finally assure myself and everyone else that I was capable of medical school, of being the perfect wife and someday mother, of being Super Woman.

If you’re still reading this, you have to know how it worked out, because you’re probably not irrational. I didn’t fail anything, but it was my worst semester ever at Cal. And when I say I didn’t fail anything, I mean just barely in some classes. What really gets me now is that I became the complete opposite of what I’d wanted to be. I was completely exhausted, easily distractible, spent far more time at home because I couldn’t bear to be at school, I was really cranky and demanding of everyone, and I came off to my professors as a nut job. My husband was miserable, and my mom’s doctors hated me.

Her radiation ended, I took finals, I slept for about two weeks, and then went back to my job. I didn’t clean my desk or clean out my backpack for seven months. I refused to talk about school, even in the abstract. This was an excellent decision on my part.

My bosses stuck it out with me while I went through three months of severe depression. I gave in to a part of myself that I don’t like to admit exists. I called in sick a lot, and once just didn’t show up. I think they let me get away with it because when I did show up, I did the very best job I could. When my depression lifted, I allowed myself to take on more responsibility, including proposals for studies and advocating for new technologies. The best thing is that I started to feel like a competent human being again. And this leads me back, in a windy kind of way, to perspective.

Before my mom ever got sick with breast cancer, I struggled with feelings of doubt and self worth. Not just “Gee, maybe I’m not cut out for this,” but “I am smaller and stupider than almost anyone I know, and I will never be any bigger or smarter than I am right now.” I thought this even as I entered Cal, and I thought this even as I got glowing reports from my co-workers and bosses. Just living through this last two years has changed a lot of that. I’ve seen the very worst and very best of myself, and I find, for the first time in my life, that both extremes are acceptable. Even on my very worst days, I managed to keep all of our lives moving forward with positive momentum.

I’m writing all of this because I read your posts, and I hear so much of what I am dealing with from you. I palpably feel the strain of keeping all of our threads in one loom, and the guilt when some of the edges get frayed. Maybe you can relate to some of what I’ve been through, but I think most of you can relate to how I felt about it. Keep your chin up, ladies, and pray for perspective.

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