Amazing

This has been an incredible trip to D.C. and I want to describe it but I don't have time! We've been out of the hotel for 12 hours, and now we've just dropped in to change clothes and head out to dinner.

In brief... yesterday morning we went to the Ford Theater -- just happened to be passing it on the way to breakfast -- and saw a fascinating lecture there. Eric and I were sitting no more than 10 yards away from Lincoln's box. It was chilling (something I didn't expect), and the person lecturing was a really good story teller.

Then we went the National Museum of American History. That's one of the Smithsonian museums... one of several we thought we'd visit yesterday. Ha! We could have spent four days in that one museum. Instead we spent four hours, and just barely scratched the service. It was amazing.

We saw Mama Mia last night. It was cute. After the theater we went to dinner. A hustling, busy, restaurant at midnight. (Oakland shuts down at 8:00 PM.)

This morning we headed out for the Capitol at 7:30 AM, for Diane Feinstein's constituent breakfast. Fienstein was polished, as expected, but she didn't mince words about everything . We appreciated what she had to say about stem cell research, for instance.

After breakfast, speech, question & answer session, and photo ops.... we went on an extensive tour of the capital building, led by an intern.

We rode in the underground trolley system that connects all the capitol buildings... and Edward Kennedy came shuffling past us & caught the trolley before ours. He's old and moves like it.

After the tour we sat in on a Senate session -- Kennedy making a speech & being very big and puffy.

Then we sat in a session of the House.

THEN we went to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Two hours in that place was intense. Tears & tears.

THEN we walked to the Washinton Monument, the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial, and the Lincoln Monument.

We tired & we're off to dinner. Super Shuttle is picking us up at 3:30 AM.

Next stop Oakland.

My dogs are barking.

Where does that expression come from, I wonder?

Eric and I walked so much yesterday -- we walked & walked & walked. The history here is amazing, and all but lost on the kids I see being dragged around from old building to old building. This is the right time for us to be here.

Yesterday we went to the White House in the morning. It wasn't nearly as grand as I expected it to be... it's kinda small. Even the State Room, where they have state dinners, isn't as large as I had anticipated. But I didn't anticipate that it would be so cool just to be there. Every room had a zillion stories, and so many of the rooms were familiar. I even recognized the bottom of the stairs where Bush & foreign cohorts stop for photo ops.

Ya'll know I don't give a hoot for celebrity. But this was different. The White House was history.

Next we went to the The National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden. It was the hottest part of the day -- boy is it hot & humid here - but the garden & sculptures were very cool.

Yesterday we also went to the International Spy Museum. The literature suggested that we plan three hours for the museum, but we thought there was no way we'd be there that long. We ended up being there three hours. It was very interesting -- lots of real spy gadgets & equipment, and taped interviews with spys and spy-catchers. There was a special exhibit about the history of terrorism in the U.S. that was particularly well done.

Today we're going to the Smithsonian Museums. There are many, many, of them. I hope our feet hold out! Tonight we're going to the National Theater to see Mama Mia. What the hell?

Here are a few pictures from the Sculpture Garden. (No cameras allowed in the White House or Spy Museum.)

I like D.C.

We went to the National Archives this afternoon. It's really pretty amazing to stand before The Bill of Rights.

Eric pointed out to me that we were surrounded by Christians. It was true! There was one family in particular that was very spooky. The barely-teen blonde daughter was wearing a t-shirt that said, "X-Treme Noze... knowing the Lord to the extreme".

Her big, blonde-peach-fuzz-headed father had a hitler mustache. For reals.

I overheard one father saying to his son, "Now you see, it's says we have a right to bear arms but they wouldn't let me bring a gun in here!"

I think more liberals should go look at the Bill of Rights. As far as I can tell, most of the folks looking at the Constitution were way more interested in God than anything else.

Tomorrow morning we're going to the White House, and then the International Spy Museum. Now we're off to find dinner.

Here are a few pics before we go.


The National Archives -- chock full o' interesting documents! Did you know that Ross Perot BOUGHT the Magna Carta?


The National Archives. Art shot!


The Department of Justice

We made it!

Woo hoo! I'm some place I've never been before, and that's very cool.

Our hotel is completely adequate AND it's the best possible location. Walking distance to everywhere.

We're just heading out now to pick up our tickets to the International Spy Museum for tomorrow, and to check out the National Archives. First, we'll stop for a latte.

God, I love a city that doesn't shut down at 5:00 PM.

More later...

Airport

We're sitting in the Fort Lauderdale airport, waiting for our flight to D.C. My back has been getting better & worse & better & worse. Right now it's worse. I'm happy with that! As long as it didn't continue to go downhill, I'm perfectly satisfied and happy to go on to D.C.

Florida was juuuust fine. We ate & ate. Eric's family plans their next meal while eating the food in front of them.

His father is quite frail -- collapses often -- and sleeps much of the day. He has end stage renal failure, diabetes, heart disease...

Ninety-one year old grandma (Nana, in this family) is still a hoot. Still talking about politics and popular culture. She's always been the second coolest member of the family, second to Eric (of course).

Power's fading... must run...

Well, phooey.

The good news is that I had an excellent steak tonight. The bad news is that I am in pretty bad pain, and double doses of Ibuprofen, Tylenol-4, and Flexoril (not all at once) aren't having any impact.

Unfortunately, in the afternoon on Wednesday, an hour or two before heading out to the airport, I slipped and slid and fell down in a grocery store parking lot. Since then I've been in pain (chest and back), but I kept thinking that I'd wake up in the morning and feel better. Problem is that every morning I feel worse!

So now I'm pretty bummed. Sitting is okay for a few minutes, standing is okay for a few minutes... nothing's good for very long. This is a bad way to start vacation... and REALLY bad way to go to DC, on accounta all the walking we need to do.

Oh, well.

I'm sure I hurt my back in the fall, and jarred my chest at the same time. Still, I start thinking that it's cancer in my spine. So many women I know have mets to their spines, and it's quite painful. But I guess I should look to the simplest explanation first, and I DID fall.

So here I am, hoping that I feel better tomorrow!

That's all I have to report from Florida tonight.

This one's going out to Jeb Bush.

I know that all of the Christians in this country aren't racist, but are most of the racists in this country Christian?

Pastor and KKK-member Edgar Ray Killen was found guilty of manslaughter in the 1964 slaying of three civil rights workers in Mississippi:

Ex-Klansman Found Guilty

When I began my mission to understand Christianity, I was disinclined to make generalizations about Christians.

That was before I knew that most Christians in this country have put more thought into what breakfast cereal to eat in the morning than they've ever put into whether or not they actually believe in an omnicient, omnipotent, God.

Many (if not most) of them think they're Christians simply because they're Americans. Or, they're Christians because they're "good people who try to do the right thing", a grossly mistaken notion of Christianity.

What I've observed is that the more seriously they take their doctrine, the more likely Christians will be hateful, seething, right-wing, racist, warmongers.

They may well be misinterpreting their Good Book. I'll leave that for others to decide, because personally... I don't think anything good can arise from an idealogy that's founded on bullshit. What the bible has to say isn't very pretty, frankly, even if the most benign Christians think Jesus was a groovy guy who preached lovelovelove. Even if it were pretty... is it a plus to believe a pretty lie?

Bottom line is that Christianity and racism go together like peanut butter and jelly. No one needs to send me a list of exceptions, either. Exceptions prove the rule.

Pastor Killen lived to be an old man. Bully for him, huh?

Day 1 ends or Day 2 begins?

It's very green here. It's green and hot and humid. It can be 90 degrees -- as it will be this weekend -- and raining.

It would be easy to criticize this community where Eric's parents live. It's not what Eric and I would consider "cool". It's not diverse. It's 2000+ households of aging, New York, Jews at their own sort of Disneyworld. But, as always, I'm impressed with how happy folks are here.

The apartments are beautiful and spacious... the grounds are well kept... the facilities -- indoor and outdoor pools, restaurant, game room, movie theater -- are all nice and well maintained. People are happy, even if what makes them happy is discussing their ailments.

Everyone talks and laughs and tell stories about operations, grandchildren, cruises, and the blintzes they had last week.

Eric and I are constantly reminded of the retirement we won't have. Our retirement wouldn't have looked like this. We had our own vision, if not plans. We were working on it, refining it... slowly, because we thought we had years.

Not that we haven't had fun all along.

We went to bed at 8:00 PM. Now it's 3:00 AM and we're up.

There are pictures of me all over this apartment. I think that every picture I've ever sent them is framed and on display. I believe they have in their possession more photographs of me than my parents ever had.

They introduce us to their friends as "our children".

I make them laugh, particularly my mother-in-law. Even when I must have seemed an alien creature to her -- crazy, make up-less Californian girl -- I made my mother-in-law laugh.

No one's said the word "cancer". She looked at me once and said, "It's not fair," and I knew exactly what she meant, and silently agreed.

3 AM and we're wide awake. Oy vey.

We made it!

We're here in Florida... tired and hot and sticky but no worse for wear. Old people abound. Seriously.

More later!

Rules of Despair

Sixteen years ago next month, Eric and I had what we'd forever call "The Summer From Hell".

We had planned to travel to Alaska together for the summer -- I had quit my job, and we had given up the rooms we rented in a shared house -- but that train was derailed when my brother was killed in Southern California. Eric followed me down to Long Beach to be with my family. I was sick, and distraught, and there was conflict with my family, and we soon hightailed it out of there.

We left Long Beach in the van we still hoped to drive to Alaska, but I became even more ill. Without a job, health insurance, or a place to live, I was admitted to a county hospital in Los Angeles for a week. Eric stayed in the van in the parking lot.

After I was released from the hospital -- still in shock that my brother Mark was gone, and still in pain -- we set out for Alaska again. Ah, youth. We made it to Oregon, but Eric injured his leg. We were doomed. So... we limped back to Oakland, and were crashing on a friend's floor while we regrouped and figured out what to do.

By the second day of crashing, I had had it. I was done. My brother was dead, and I felt I'd lost the rest of my family along with him. I was sick, and tired. I had no job, and no home. I said to Eric, 'Please, find us a place to live. Just the two of us."

Eric had been my boyfriend for just over a year.

He went out that day and found us a place that we could move into immediately. (That's Eric for you.)

I was grateful for the space, but depressed by the apartment. It was technically a studio, but there were french doors separating the rectangle into living and bedrooms. As we unpacked, I lamented the blue grey carpeting, the tiny kitchenette, the old bathroom. I questioned the dubious location -- across the street from a car alarm installation business. If you haven't lived across the street from a car alarm installation business, you've really missed something! It makes me laugh now to remember it.

But I wasn't laughing then. I was sad... not just about the apartment, but I was beaten up in general. I kept saying, 'This place sucks," and then I'd enumerate it's failings. And the whole time, Eric was beaming sunshine. He'd say, "Look, it's not so bad! Look at all the light it gets! We'll decorate it and make it cute! Look how nice the front door is!", and on, and on.

And then Eric went to set up the stereo. He looked for an electrical outlet on the wall where he wanted the stereo to go, but there wasn't one. He checked adjoining walls: none. He checked the "bedroom"... one outlet, far away from the living room. None in the bathroom. One in the kitchen.

Eric sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. Now HE was done. He said, "This place sucks! I hate it! There aren't any outlets and it's too small and..."

And I sat down next to him and said, "Honey, it's not so bad! Look at all the light it gets! And we'll make it look cute!"

That was a looooong time ago, and our lives and circumstances are very different now. we're heading off on a new summer -- a summer of fun, but without entirely sunny skies.

I'm sad sometimes. Sometimes I bemoan my fate, and sometimes I'm scared. Eric's always there, loving me up, as hopeful as he can be. I have some dark things to say. Eric hears them, and counters with whatever light he can find.

But when there are thunderclouds on Eric's face, and I ask him what's going on, and he struggles to even say the words: You're dying -- I hold his hand and squeeze, and say, "But first I'm going to live, right?"

This just in.

There are still unanswered questions, but the preliminary biopsy results are in, and the lymph node under my arm was cancerous.

This is not surprising news -- in fact, it's expected news -- but it's nonetheless disappointing.

The thought had crossed my mind that perhaps the cancer diagnosis was a horrible mistake. I didn't dwell on that thought. I didn't hold the idea in my hand and polish it and admire it. In fact, it was more like a hot rock I'd fling away, because the last thing I wanted was more disappointment. Still, it was there.

After the nice surgeons said that my lymph nodes were unremarkable, and that the samples didn't have the appearance of cancer, I began to think: Hmmm. Well... suppose the lymph nodes were swollen because I had a cold.

And perhaps what looks like cancer in my sternum is actually an old injury that hasn't healed.

And the spots on my lungs... maybe if they didn't already assume that I had cancer, they'd think those spots were something else!

But now we know -- for sure, for sure -- that there is breast cancer in my body. It's not a mere opinion. It's petri-dish-true. It's inarguable. It's just-the-facts-ma'am and the fact is: hopefully, a few good years.

So.

Now we're waiting to learn the true character of this cancer. Will it be estrogen receptor positive, which comes with the hope that hormonal therapy will be effective.? Or, we will it be estrogen receptor negative, which comes packaged with fewer options. Or, just one option. In a word, chemotherapy.

It'll be a few days before we know.

So... here I am... none the wiser, but still & oddly a bit more sad. Go figure.

And a trip to pack for, to boot!

School Days

Today's my last day of work until August 22nd. I have the option of coming in a week early, and then taking comp days throughout the school year -- but it's too soon for me to think about that.

I have much to do today. I've not been "on top of my game" at the end of this year, for obvious reasons.

One more day of work, and tomorrow we leave for Florida. I understand it's raining in Florida. Oh, well.

Okay... I'd better get this show on the road!

The Prince of Peace or the Lord of WhoopAss?

Most of you probably know of my two year experiment in trying to understand Christians and Christianity. Thank god THAT'S over. I recently checked in with a few of my righteous friends, and found them having a lively conversation about pacifism.

Here's a bit of what they had to say... names changed to protect the dumb.

Pray: Pacifism is a foul self serving wimpy doctrine
Pray: Only the spiritually immature cliam it.

OldFella: pacifism is ungodly, for it is based on humanistic, rather than biblical principle

I Stand: Was Jusus a Pansy at the Cross ?

ButlerBob: Jesus was no pansy , how many of us could have borne that much pain?

Pray: Wars show the will of God regarding the rulers he has appointed.
Pray: The outcome of all wars is determined by God.

Home again.

I love my home, but it's a little bit of a let down to be here -- back at home on a Sunday evening with work tomorrow -- after a weekend at Every Player's Paradise. We had a nice time. I didn't do well in the tournament (I ranked 50th out of 120... not a qualifying score) but I had lots of fun.

On the drive home I was holding Eric's hand, and noticing (for the eleventeenth time) how pale my skin is next to his. Then I started looking at his hand, and trying to memorize it. I fear that I will miss Eric from my grave. I don't know how to explain it, but it's true.

Two more days of work, then we're off to Florida. I hope our travels the rest of this summer are as nice as the weenend we just had.

Tales of the Atlantis

Waking up at the Atlantis Casino, Resort, and Spa -- Every Player's Paradise -- is such a beautiful thing!

Soon I'll need to go downstairs and register for the Craps tournament. We arrived too late to register last night. There was the typical traffic on the way out of the Bay Area, but I enjoyed the drive, and the time with Eric.

I drove through the traffic-y areas, because stop-and-go doesn't bother me, and it makes Eric a little crazy. We sang along with the radio, and I laughed at how Eric seems to know every classic rock radio station in the country. He knows the call letters, and the place on the dial, and he knows if it's The Eagle or The Rock or The Hawk.

He also knows where every restaurant is where we've eaten while on the road. "Oh, we ate at that Denny's on a road trip back in '96." But that's another story!

When we lost radio reception, we sang every song ever written by Cat Stevens. Cat Stevens lyrics linger in my brain. I'm not sure why.

The mountains were beautiful. Bright yellow scotch brush next to wildflowers that were a deep, jewel, plum. Pine trees in twilight were pretty. Then, as Eric took over the driving -- there were windy roads, and lovely mists rose off lakes and wrapped around trees, and hovered in valleys.

We stayed up a bit last night. I won fifty dollars (after much up & down) and it was quite entertaining.

Today is the first round of the craps tournament and I need to get registered & figure out when I'm playing.

Greetings from Reno!

TGIF

I have no idea why that biospy description was so long. I was rather embarrassed once I posted it.

Today is Eric's last day of school. Normally he would be grinning ear to ear, but this morning he's subdued and worried. I'm hoping that he catches his co-workers' enthusiasm, and has a happy day.

Today after work we're driving to Reno, where I'll be participating in a craps tournament.

I am working Monday and Tuesday of next week. Wednesday we are leaving for Florida to visit Eric's parents and grandmother, then off to our nation's capitol and museums galore.

My propensity to feel okay in my head seems to be linked to how I feel in my body. Even if the ache in my chest is dull, it's a constant reminder that my bones are diseased, and that it's going to get worse.

For several days prior to the trip to Seattle I was completely asymptomatic. Since last Friday, I've been constantly aware of the pain, and that makes it difficult to keep my spirits up.

But I need to snap out of it. If I'm laid low by this -- what will become of me when there's REAL pain down the road? Perhaps I'm just adjusting, still. I've always had a high threshold for pain. Eric can attest to this. It's the nature of the pain that's so disturbing. I will try to make a better showing.

And so Friday begins!

Warning: Graphic Biospy Details!

The biopsy was oooookay. The people who helped me -- one radiology technician and two doctors -- were all very nice. In fact, they were so nice, and concerned, and attentive, that it scared me a little bit.

They hovered, and told me how brave I was, and said "awwwww" when I told them about the soreness in my chest. The technician patted my leg during the entire procedure, and kept asking if I was okay.

First they used ultrasound to find a swollen lymph node. This caused some confusion. The doctors and the tech discussed how my ct scan had shown "many big, round, nodes". This was news to me! Apparently, the nodes in my scan were prominent. Prominent was a word one of the doctors used several times.

In the ultrasound, however, they could only find one, small, node. I was asked if I had been sick, or had any infection at the time of the scan.

The ultrasound was a big black & white blur to me. I couldn't see anything there. I almost asked them if they could tell me the sex of the baby, but they were so sweet and concerned that jokes didn't seem appropriate.

I was given two injections of an anesthetic... probably lidocaine, but I don't know for sure. The first injection was shallow, and the second more deep. The injections made me wince, but they weren't too bad.

Then they brought out the big gun. In this case, it was a new instrument ... thus the two doctors... one showing the other how to use the new piece of equiptment. It had a fairly thick needle, about six inches long. Obviously, they didn't push it in that far.

They made a small incision under my arm, inserted the needle, which was attached to a red and yellow plastic gun. They guided the needle to the lymph node, using ultrasound, and then "shot" the gun with a loud CLICK and bit of pressure.

They pulled out the needle, and discharged a core sample of my lymph node onto a tray.

Then they repeated that procedure five times.

It did hurt, but not too badly. I wouldn't be afraid to do it again.

I told them that while I was sure that the gun was an expensive piece of equipment, that it looked like a cheap plastic toy from Toys R Us. They laughed, and said that they agreed, and that it probably cost about $500.00, and was for one-time-use.

The doctors agreed that while the samples may well be cancerous, they didn't have the appearance of cancer. They said that I shouldn't be surprised if they come back as non-cancerous.

If the samples are not cancerous, I STILL HAVE CANCER, and there are a few options. I can have an open biopsy (meaning regular surgery) and the surgeon can take a whole bunch (or all) of the nodes to really check 'em.

Or, they can biospy the cancer in my sternum. I don't know how that process works, but one of the doctors described it to me as "very painful". So...

Here I am, with my usual post-cancer-diagnosis bundle o' bad options.

I have metastatic breast cancer whether or not it's in my lymph nodes.

If my lymph nodes are clear, then ....YAY! My lymph nodes are clear. But BOO! Now I have to have further, more invasive testing to get a pathology on a new tumor.

If my lymph nodes are cancerous, then YAY! I don't have to have further testing. But BOO! I have cancer in my lymph nodes, which makes it more likely to show up more quickly in other organs (liver, brain, et cetera).

So, any way you cut it (or stab it with a needle), it sucks. I can't even identify the best case scenario this time.

When I was getting dressed the tech told me twice that I had "nerves of steel". I think that the procedure isn't really that bad, but probably many of the women who come in for it are distraught to begin with. Fear, coupled with those super nice doctors... that could make any woman weep.

Eric was waiting for me in the waiting room, and off we went to work. Now I'm just waiting to hear results.

As always, we shall see.

The Bible is Hilarious, Part 1

These verses from Isaiah 3 crack me up. It sounds like the Lord has spent a weekend or two hanging out in the parking lot outside Grateful Dead concerts.

16 The LORD says,
"The women of Zion are haughty,
walking along with outstretched necks,
flirting with their eyes,
tripping along with mincing steps,
with ornaments jingling on their ankles.

17 Therefore the Lord will bring sores on the heads of the women of Zion;
the LORD will make their scalps bald."

18 In that day the Lord will snatch away their finery: the bangles and headbands and crescent necklaces, 19 the earrings and bracelets and veils, 20 the headdresses and ankle chains and sashes, the perfume bottles and charms, 21 the signet rings and nose rings, 22 the fine robes and the capes and cloaks, the purses 23 and mirrors, and the linen garments and tiaras and shawls.

Truly -- this sounds like the scene outside the Kaiser Center or at the Oregon Country Fair. Apparently the Lord will be sparing women who wear Business Coordinates.

Biopsy Update

At 8:00 AM on Thursday, I'm having an ultrasound guided core needle biopsy. It's a simple procedure.

I'll be given a local anesthetic and a very small incision will be made under my arm. A core needle biopsy is done by using a large needle fitted with a special cutting tip. As the needle goes through the skin toward the lymph node, it collects a core of tissue about the size of a pencil lead.

I've been told that the whole shebang will take about an hour, and I'll plan on working the rest of the day.

The pathology of the sample may or may not point to a change in my current treatment plan. Once I have the pathology in hand, I'll go to UC Davis for a second opinion.

Me & my Shadow.

It's been one month since I received this awful and upsetting diagnosis. One month! It feels like a year, but I'm glad it's not been a year, a year being too great a proportion of my total life expectancy pie. (I will not do the math again. Maybe ever.)

My oncologist said, "Unfortunately, there is cancer in your sternum," on Friday, May 13th. He neglected to mention the spots on my lungs, but I think that's a typical human strategy when relaying bad news.

Anywho... I was told on Friday the 13th, and I went to work on Monday. I've missed one day of work since, for my follow up appointment with my oncologist and Eric and Jane. Other than that, I’ve been busy, busy.

I worked every work day, went for a walk at the Lafayette Reservoir, had a picnic at the Berkeley Marina; saw the final Star Wars movie, and the movie "Crash", which was a much better film. I went to the Berkeley Zen Center and sat zazen with Janis, and volunteered at the 24 Hour Tag Team Relay Race at Eric's school. Eric and I attended the Carnival parade and festival in San Francisco, and we went to a play in Berkeley with Jane and Tom. We spent the better part of a day at Golden Gate Fields, betting on horses, and traveled to Seattle for my nephew's graduation.

BTW, I wouldn't have remembered half of that stuff if not for this blog.

That's a busy month. And in all of this, I've probably not spent more than 60 consecutive minutes alone -- and that a rarity.

So, today Eric's going to work and I'm going to stay home and see what it's like to be alone with cancer with nothing to do.

If we get into a staring match, I wonder who'll blink first?

A few more pics...

of the trip to Seattle can be found here:


Scott's Graduation

The weirdest story I've read in a long time.

Army Deserter to Visit U.S. After 40 Years
By ERIC TALMADGE, Associated Press Writer
Mon Jun 13,10:37 AM ET



A U.S. soldier who deserted his Army unit 40 years ago and fled to North Korea left his home in northern Japan on Monday for his first visit to the United States since he turned himself in late last year.

Charles Jenkins, his Japanese wife and their two daughters were scheduled to fly to Washington on Tuesday after spending a night in Tokyo. He has said he has no plans to move to the United States, but has repeatedly said he wants to see his 91-year-old mother, who lives in a nursing home in Roanoke Rapids, N.C.

He was expected to stay in the United States for about a week. The U.S. Embassy in Tokyo issued him a passport last month.

Jenkins, 65, served 25 days in a U.S. military jail in Japan last year after a court-martial. He came to Japan in July to be with his wife, Hitomi Soga, who was kidnapped by North Korean agents in 1978 but allowed to return home in 2002.

The couple, who met in North Korea, live with their daughters in Soga's hometown of Mano, on the tiny island of Sado, off the northwestern coast of Japan's main island of Honshu.

Jenkins, a native of Rich Square, N.C., deserted his unit in South Korea along the heavily armed Demilitarized Zone that divides the two Koreas in 1965. He said he had been trying to avoid serving in Vietnam.

While in the North, he was forced to teach English to military cadets and was used as a propaganda tool, playing a malevolent American in at least one film.

Jenkins' plight became a national issue in Japan because Soga was one of at least a dozen Japanese kidnapped and taken to the North to serve as teachers for its spies. Soga was bound in a black bag, shoved onto a speedboat and taken to the Stalinist nation when she was only 19.

Her mother, who also disappeared the night she was kidnapped, has never been found.

After a flurry of diplomatic negotiations spearheaded by Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi, North Korea allowed her and four other abductees to come home two years ago, but Jenkins and their daughters Mika, now 21, and Brinda, 19, stayed in North Korea.

After a personal appeal by Koizumi during a summit in Pyongyang, Jenkins and his daughters finally came to Japan in July, and he surrendered to U.S. military authorities. He was released in November.

Since then, Jenkins has said he is at work on an autobiography and wants to find a regular job. He has few skills, having spent most of his life in the North. Soga works in the Mano town hall

Home Again

Eric did it again -- talked to the woman at the gate at the airport, and the next thing I knew we were flying first class. She told Eric not to tell anybody she had done it.

Eric rocks.

Scott is such a nice young man! I'm 100% happy that we went to Seattle for Scotty's graduation, and I'm 100% happy to be home.

Back to work tomorrow. I'll post more pics of the graduation soon.

Just a couple o' pics

An outdoor graduation ceremony in Seattle.





As a college graduate, Scott didn't appreciate his aunt's attempt to do make bunny ears behind his head for the photograph.

Seattle

I'm glad to be here in Seattle. I want to be here for Scott's graduation, and it's so good to see him. It's good to see who he's become. I've loved him, always, always... but I knew him best as a joyful and lovely baby and toddler. I'm so happy to fill in just a few of the blanks, and I'm just so happy for him.

Being here is also hard. I'm in this hotel room crying, crying... crying because my chest hurts, because I'm scared.... crying because all day long -- in a day full of happiness for Scott, and chit chat and social stuff and 'oh it's so nice to see you again'...all day long people kept talking about their lives in a way that made my heart ache.

All day people talked about when they can retire. They're already older than I'll ever be, and they talk about the future. In six years, in seven years... where they're going to live, what they're going to do. Or what it would take for them to go back to college. Or what life will be like when their kids graduate from college...

They talked and talked and talked about the future, and they had no idea they were doing it, and it was so specific... in six years... in seven years... in twenty years. I wanted to start saying, "I'm going to be dead then." I wanted to say to them, "please stop. I can't take it. You don't know how my heart aches... you don't know how cheated I feel."

Again I had the feeling (even though I know it's not true) that everyone else gets to live forever. Everyone else has a treasure of days, and I have a few coins jangling in my pocket.

And I hear, 'you're so strong." Strong. "I like the way you look at things", because I say some positive thing... because I say something philosophical.

What the hell am I supposed to say?

What the hell am I supposed to do? Should I tear my clothes and pour dust on my head? Should I wail and throw myself on the ground?

Do people have to hear sirens to know that this hurts?

I look at Eric. I look at us. I see us limping along. We spend so much time being scared and sick about the future. Who would want to live with us here in the sad and uncertain present? No one. They'd be fucking crazy to live here with us. So it's just us, and here we are, and Eric would follow me to the ends of the earth, but I never, ever wanted to take him here.

And I have absolutely nothing to add to a conversation about whether it's better to pay off your house or fund a 401K.

And I don't want everyone else to stop living because I'm dying.... but it was a hard day.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

I'll post pictures, and I won't be as tired, and things may well be better tomorrow.

Change of Seattle plans, slightly.

Eric and I were supposed to be on a plane for Seattle at 6:00 PM tonight, but the flight was overbooked. If we had left tonight we would have arrived in Seattle at around 8:00 PM, picked up the car, driven to the hotel, and then maybe we would have gone over to my sisters, but perhaps not.

We opted, instead, to volunteer to be bumped from tonight's flight. This means that we have to catch a plane at 6:00 AM tomorrow morning. However, the airline is giving us two free round-trip tickets to anywhere they fly -- we once used similar vouchers from this airline to go to Ixtapa, Mexico -- and tomorrow's flight has been upgraded to first class. The front cabin isn't such a big deal on a short flight, but it's still nice.

Back in the early nineties, when airlines were less competitive and before the proliferation of points programs and the common use of frequent flyer miles for upgrades, Eric was a master of first class upgrades.

He used to go up to the women at the gate, smile, and very politely ask if we could moved into the "front cabin". He would never say "first class". He said that was the kiss of death.

I thought Eric was soooo cool. And I was right. And he still is.

So... it's Oakland tonight and Seattle tomorrow... my nephew's college graduation and it's all good. That's it!

1 - 2 - 3

1. Guantanamo Bay should be closed, although that won't stop the United States from continuing to outsource it's torture.
2. The United States government (or agents thereof) shouldn't desecrate anyone's sacred texts. HOWEVER...
3. How fundamentally freaky is religion when it makes grown men threaten suicide because a book was peed on?

You can't hurt an idea by flushing it down the toilet. Books are paper, ink, and glue.

I am equally opposed to all forms relgious fanaticism, and most forms of religious moderate-ism -- except I'm all for Jehovah's Witnesses. Jehovah's Witnesses can do whatever the hell they'd like, as far as I'm concerned, because they don't vote.

I'd like to see Kingdom Halls replace Baptist churches all over the nation.

(It's okay to dream.)

Update (not very exciting)

The meeting with the surgeon was uneventful -- routine, even. She was unable to do a biopsy and referred me to another doctor, who may or may not do a different kind of biopsy (a guided ultrasound biopsy).

If they are unable to do a core biopsy (a needle guided by ultrasound ), they'll do an open biopsy (regular surgery w/ an incision).

I'm waiting to hear when my next appointment will be.

As a reminder, the goal of this biopsy is not to ascertain if I have cancer -- cancer is assumed -- but to learn the specific pathology of this cancer, which may have changed since a pathology was done on my primary tumor.

The new pathology will point to the most appropriate treatment options.

I feel good -- cold aside -- and I'm looking forward to traveling with Eric to Seattle this weekend for my nephew's graduation from the University of Washington. I will try very hard to not tell him that I used to change his diapers. (But I suuuuure did.)

Next weekend I'll be competing in a Craps tournament in Reno, Nevada. Need I remind anyone that I was the highest ranking female craps player in 2004?

And the following weekend we'll be in Boynton Beach, Florida, followed by Washington, DC. Senator Barbara Boxer secured us a tour of the White House (only available through Senators since the WTC bombings), and priority passes to the Holocaust Museum, and Senator Diane Feinstein has invited us to a constituent breakfast.

Busy, busy!

That's my story and I'm sticking with it...

Wednesday Afternoon

I'm meeting with a surgeon this afternoon. I was going to write that it's just a routine appointment, but I've since decided that no meeting with a surgeon can be said to be routine. That's how it feels right now, anyway.

Tired or... ?

I'm tired. I got enough sleep, so I don't know why I'm so exhausted. I don't know if it's cancer, cancer meds, a cold (coughcough), or depression (I don't feel depressed).

I don't know if my coughcough is a cold or lung cancer (seems unlikely -- I have very small lesions).

I have a headache. Is that my cold (coughcough), tension (I'm tense, but not depressed), or brain cancer? Haven't checked out my brain yet, and I'm having trouble remembering stuff.

Am I having trouble remembering stuff because I'm tired, because I have a cold, because I'm stressed out, because of cancer, or because of cancer meds?

I have a small cut on my hand. It isn't healing quickly, and seems a bit infected. Is my entire immune system shutting down in response to the agressive and unstoppable cancer that a few weeks ago looked like just some but now has riddled my body and left me defenseless?

(That was a joke -- not really haha funny, I know -- but really... I'm tired.)

All Georges don't suck.

I just read an article about George Mcgovern's reaction to DeepThroat's identify. Watergate jail-bird Charles Colson (convicted of obstruction of justice), is apparently another one of those fine, upstanding Christians.


"No matter how Felt may justify his actions, it is not honorable to leak classified information to the press. Governments cannot function if the chief executive cannot trust people who hold sensitive positions, and there are few positions more sensitive than the deputy director of the FBI," said Colson, an evangelical Christian who has since devoted his life's work to inmates through his Prison Fellowship organization.

McGovern said he wasn't surprised Watergate figures would criticize Felt for going to the media.

"When you have a bunch of crooks cooking up conspiracies against the government, they want everyone to keep the secret," McGovern said.

Broken Record

Eric's wrist hurts constantly, although sometimes it's worse than others. He doesn't complain about it. He doesn't tell me every day, or every week, that it hurts. But I know, and I remember.

My mother-in-law once told me that it's unusual that I remember. She said that most people, even spouses, will assume that everything's okay if they're not regularly told that there's a problem.

That sounds like a lonely way to be married to me.

(As an aside: Eric remembers my complaints and preferances long after they've stopped being relevant. If I didn't like to wear the color in green in 1991, Eric will act surprised if I wear a moss green sweater in 2005.)

I recently asked Eric to remind me of the "statistics". His arm was broken into ten pieces, and now is held together by eight screws and two plates. He says that he's thankful to still have his arm, and I believe that's true.

Often I'll wrap my hand around his wrist and gently squeeze. If no one's around, I'll tell him that I'm sending him healing energy, but if there are folks nearby I don't say a word. He knows what's up. It makes his wrist feel better. Neither of us believe that I can heal him -- but it's nice to be loved up. It's good to know that someone in the universe is aware of your pain.

Loving Eric is the easiest thing in the world to do.

As I've said so many times... in the years that we've been married, there's not been a single time -- not a moment -- that I wouldn't have married Eric again in a heartbeat.

I know, I know... you've heard it all before.

Day at the Races

Golden Gate Fields. This is the view from our seats. I love the East Bay hills.


Eric shows off his winning quinella ticket -- it paid $3.80 on a $2.00 bet -- while Walter Matthau looks on.

It was a nice and long day at the races. Isn't Eric beautiful?

Just watched an interview with Bill Clinton. I don't know why I'm surprised that he just said he doesn't "buy" that the war in Iraq was about oil. It makes me want to stop reading his biography, which I've just started, while the most irritating thing he's said is that Billy Graham is a good man who "lives his faith".

I have a feeling it's going to get much, much, worse.

Yesterday

A good morning!

Although I had a nice day yesterday, and spent time with people I love, yesterday was a little "flat" for me. It was just one of those days: I was out of sorts, and nothing seemed shiny and bright. Prior to my diagnosis, that wouldn't even have been noteworthy. It would have a been an ok weekend with fun activities and just one more weekend in a seemingly endless stream of weekends and so what ....?

What really happened is that I kept forgetting that I had cancer. Our friend Luana came over to see us in the morning -- Luana is a bundle of good energy and aloha spirit -- and it was all good and chatty and yakyakyak... and then SPLAT. I'd remember .... oh man.... I have CANCER.

It seems funny to me that I could forget, but I sure did. I guess that's a good thing, although it'd be nice to not remember once an hour.

Jane came over in the afternoon, and it was good to have her here. When I'm in trouble, Jane has an amazing ability to "stick with me" -- so if I want to laugh, Jane is there laughing with me, and if I want to cry, Jane will be there, too.

The three of us went to a yummy & belated birthday dinner at Breads of India in Berkeley, and then met Tom for a play at the The Ashby Stage.

Eric and I are season ticket holders there, and I've liked all of their productions -- but this one was a bit experimental & disjointed & artsy for my taste. But it did have full front nudity & a man who shrank and woke up inside a brandy bottle & eventually fell to his death when the bottle was knocked off a balcany railing, so there was that.

Today we're heading off to "A Day at the Races". It's a fundraiser for Eric's school's booster club. It's at Golden Gate Fields, where we'll bet on the horses and eat a fancy buffet and sit in the sunshine. Another jam-packed weekend.

I think it's better to carry a little bit of sadness about my condition in my heart at all times, than to forget about it and be confronted with unpleasant truth throughout the day.

I have no control over this, of course.

Is Eric a player?

Most days, Eric and I drive to work together. It's nice... a total bonus to working in the same school district. Eric drives from our house to his school, then I drive myself to the district office.
I pick him up after school, and drive us both home.

Here's how it looks: Eric pulls up in front of the highschool and we both get out of the car. Eric then grabs a backpack from the back seat of the car, we kiss, and I get into the car and drive away.

One of Eric's students told him that he looked like a kid being allowed to drive to school by his mom.

Another of his students asked, "When I see you kiss a woman in front of the school every day, is it always the same woman?"

Commuting together means a combined 40 minutes of quality time each work day, and is one of the reasons I've felt so lucky with this job.

I read another article about the Christian Reich.

I mean Right.

I'll say it again:

Anyone who believes that creationism should be explored in a science class at a public school should be denied modern medical practices. If binding wounds with wine and oil was good enough for Jesus' friends, it should be good enough for them.

What can be said to people who believe that scientific truth should not be observed, but devinely revealed?

It's all just wrong.

I thought today was Friday!

Eric didn't much enjoy that last post. Math is just another way to look at a situation that's unpleasant from all angles, and Eric wasn't comforted by the new perspective,

As I've said before: If love could keep me safe, I'd live to be an old, gray haired, lady.

If life were a string of tortured moments, or endless pain, it wouldn't have any value to me. I wouldn't mourn lost days, or shake an angry fist at the fates. But life is good. Life is still good, although it's not easy.

My friends still make me shake my head and laugh. Eric still reads the paper in the morning with an attention to ceremonial detail that would make him the envy of any given Buddhist.

I guess that's all I have to say this morning.

Here's a link to more pictures of the carnival parade, if you're interested:

http://www.ohmartha.com/carnival2005/

Math

If my oncologist's initial estimate of my life expectancy is correct -- although, to be fair, it was just a guess -- then in the 20 days I've known I've had cancer, a little over one percent of my remaining life has passed.

I'm not going to do the math anymore.

I don't want my days to be metered out by a stingy universe. I think this is a zero-sum game. I need to find a better way to play.