Photography by Myrna Pelaez Co-Written and Edited by Ana Maria Reyes & Brian Rivera Special Thanks to Kristel Lorena Velasquez Lopez
I have Synovial Sarcoma. Lorena was interviewed by Ana Maria Reyes and Brian Rivera on March, 2015. Questions asked by the interviewers are bold and italicized. What most people don’t know is that when you undergo treatment as aggressive as this, it targets not only cancer cells but also fast and slowgrowing cells all around the body – including the lining of the stomach, nails, and hair, hence the hair-loss during chemotherapy. Up until now, there hasn’t been any worthwhile developments in medicine that targets solely cancer cells. My cancer is located in the joints between my lower jaw and skull, namely the temporal mandibular. It creates bad joint pain and sometimes doesn’t let me to chew, talk, or eat. When I was first diagnosed at the beginning of this year, the doctor gave me two options: surgery to remove the cancer cells or an ongoing treatment. Why isn’t surgery the best option or the easy way out? Well, the doctors wanted to make sure it doesn’t spread to my lymph nodes – where it can then be spread everywhere else in the body. The good thing about taking the medication is that, unlike chemotherapy where the effects are immediately felt, it takes longer to take over. It’s not injected through an IV but instead consists of pills being swallowed periodically. The effects come an hour or so after I ingest the medication. The thing is, the medication prolongs the symptoms and drags it throughout the day. In the beginning of studio, for example, I would feel fine. But then, towards the end I start to feel nauseous, crappy, and really tired. However, the medicine gives me more control. Postponing or delaying the treatment for a few hours a day is an option – although not recommended – and it allows me to adjust it based on my schedule.
Speaking of studio, you’re really determined to stay in school despite your circumstances. Definitely. Staying in school was my main choice. The last time I went through this, I took time off from school and it set me back. [For those who don’t know, Lorena was previously diagnosed with a different form of cancer 2 years ago. She underwent intensive chemotherapy and was momentarily cancer-free.] I’ve experienced leaving school once before and it affected my family, my friends, and myself. It was a very emotional experience. It felt as if I was going to have to drop out for good. I told myself: If I don’t help myself, then my mental and physical health will deteriorate. I wasn’t going to give up that easily especially after everything I worked so hard for. Fortunately, right now my professors are all supportive. I have the resources, and a sense of feeling better this time around. It’s still a struggle – and the workload we have as architecture students is impossible to keep up with at times. There’s days where I’m physically not capable to do anything. And then there’s bad days... Once, I woke up to get ready for school, but I ended up in the bathroom all morning. I then made an effort to look presentable and head to school – but the minute I arrived I began feeling nauseous and light-headed. I called
my aunt and she said: tomorrow will be better. Today is just a bad day, so accept it and remember it will get better. That’s how I stuck through that day.
Worst Days
I’m tired of certain people. Architecture is a clicky environment - not everyone gets along. And that’s fine, I accept that. But people talk and whatever they say will eventually get back to me. I shouldn’t let it bother me, but ultimately it does. Last Fall, I broke my foot and had a car accident, which prevented me from having my work completed. People now see me as lazy, or a slack. “…that’s exactly how she was last semester.” And it’s not like I’m ever going to come and yell at them. But it just sucks when people talk and don’t know the full story or the whole experience. And it shows a lack of support. Yes. But then there are people out there who are always supportive of me and willing to compromise for my own sake. For the London/Berlin study abroad trip, for example, my roommate agreed to share the room with me understanding the full extent of my circumstances. I gave her and my professors a heads-up to avoid shock or any surprises down the line. The only thing I asked of her was to answer a question: do people really say stuff about me?
And she confirmed that they do indeed talk. How was it like, cutting your hair back in 2013 when you underwent chemo? Cutting my hair short was the hardest part, emotionally. Days before, I would brush my hair before applying conditioner in the shower, and saw large amounts of hair on the brush. That got to me. The thought of having patches of hair, or no hair at all in some places was scary. One of my friends suggested I cut it short, so that if it does fall out, it won’t be as noticeable. Hair is a symbol of you – especially as a woman. It frames you, and boosts your self-esteem. There’s such a big impact – ripping away a part of you. And it hurts when you have no control over it, or no choice at all. It’s a transformative experience, but it comes with its reaction. I received a lot of positive feedback, which made me feel better. It gave me the security, and I’m mentally prepared to take that step again, since I’m not emotionally scarred by it. [As of the writing of this article, Lorena has had to undergo chemotherapy again. She cut more than 10 inches of her own hair on Tuesday, June 23 2015 during sunset. It was a bittersweet moment.]