Oh, Martha!

Please Join Us

2008-03-10T15:27:00.000-07:00

It's been a long night and day! The house filled with loving friends. Martha's body was taken away and we toasted her with champagne...warm champagne to signify our sorrow. After very brief sleep I went about making arrangements that I could share with all you readers. Once again the house is full of loving people here to support me and each other.

Here's the 411

On Saturday March 15, starting at 10am until noon, there will be a memorial, followed by a reception to celebrate her life. It will take place at Colonial Chapel, 2926 High St. in Oakland. It is a short distance west from the High St. exit on 580.

Afterwards, Eric and any other family members who can do so, will sit Shiva in the Jewish tradition. Our home will be open to visitors from noon to 8pm, Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Please feel free to come by and offer condolences.

In lieu of flowers, please feel free to make a donation to one of the charities that Martha has supported.

http://www.lacafoundation.org/?page_id=34
please specify "for health Clinics"

http://www.peaceactionwest.org/

Fare Thee Well My Honey

2008-03-10T02:14:00.000-07:00

This evening, March 9, 2008 at 10:45pm Martha left her body.

I was sitting at her side and nurse Mary was standing on the other side of her bed. We were talking about how much she loved me and how much I loved her. It was clear to both of us that she was listening to our conversation. Her breathing was labored, she would breath out, pause too too long, and draw in a breath. I said something about loving her and looked over to see the reaction on her face. In the seconds that I had looked away, her face had faded from jaudiced yellow to pale. The breath in never came. It was a peaceful death, at home, surrounded by friends and family, pain managed, no indignities.

This blog was her gift to me. A vehicle to sing my praises as much as a chronicle of her journey with cancer. I will treasure it always. Martha suggested on numerous occasions that I might enjoy blogging myself. So far, I can't say much for the experience. Who knows? Perhaps I will keep it going? For now I can at least promise that I will post again to let you three regular readers (and you lurkers as well)know when and where we will be gathering soon to celebrate her life.

Thank You All
Eric

Thursday

2008-03-06T08:41:00.000-08:00

Greetings to my three regular readers!

So much has happened since I've last updated this tired ol' blog. And, to be honest, it all feels a bit like water under the bridge. It felt urgent in the moment. In the moment, it was my inability to pee -- something that occurred to me after three days -- that sent me to the ER for catheterising (no big deal) and a few days of IV narcotics.

Here's the hard part, but I don't think there's any point in trying to string pretty words around the truth... or ugly words, either.

I'm now a hospice patient, and I've been given 5 days to 5 weeks to live. Technically, that "5 days" should have ticked down to "4 days". It's not an exact science.

Morning

2008-03-04T07:33:00.000-08:00

It's so crazy, I don't know how to describe it. Much of it is still in a fog. All I can say is that last night, after spending 7 (8? 9?) hours in the Emergency Room, I was admitted to the hospital.

The nurses woke me up ever five minutes, then 20 minutes, then 1.5 hours until 4:00 AM.

So far no word on when they'll let me out.

No News/Some News

2008-03-02T09:33:00.000-08:00

There's been some grumbling among my three regular readers that I haven't been keeping my blog updated. Folks want to know what's going on and I'm (practically) pleased as punch(ish) to keep the 411 flowing.

Unfortunately, there's been nothing definitive to share. I could travel a sentence or two down each conjecture, but folks wouldn't be closer to knowing what's happening with this raggedy, brokedown, palace of a body.

More tests next week and the results should largely tell the tale.

In the interim, more watching and waiting and crazy yellow eyes.

And then there's this part... the part that's so important that I can only type it in a whisper... after tomorrow (Monday) Eric's going to stay home with me.

It's no small matter for him to do this. He worries about work... he worries about his students. (He really does worry about his students.) It's a burden for him, and his kids, and his colleagues. He wouldn't describe it as such -- he's quick to point out that I'm his first priority, and I know that's the truth -- still, it's a burden. But... it's also the weight of worlds lifting from my shoulders.
Thinking about having him here with me is the closest I've come to happy in a while.

Just Reporting

2008-03-01T10:16:00.001-08:00

Some mornings I wake up and my first thought is: I don't feel good. And that's how it continues, until I fall asleep at night. I don't feel good I don't feel good I don't feel good I don't feel good I don't feel good. That discomfort and those words fill the space in my world. There's no room to read or write an email. I can't watch television, or read a book, or answer the phone. I don't feel good I don't feel good I don't feel good, and that's all.

I move in a circle .... lying in bed, sitting in the easy chair and then lying on the couch in my bedroom, sitting in the recliner in the guest room, lying in the guest room bed. I move around and around until I'm too weak and tired to pull myself up anymore.

Daytime

2008-02-25T18:16:00.000-08:00

Cooking shows, Britney exposes, true crime stories, and "My teen wants to be a prostitute and have a baby" on Maury.

Oh, I wish I could work!

Just more.

2008-02-24T17:24:00.000-08:00

There's just not much to say. More of the same, but mas amarillo y mas amarillo y mas amarillo. I look sick... like a junky or someone w/ hepatitis & limited Spanish who's stuck in a cheap Mexican hotel room for weeks on end. You know... like that.

Ugh

2008-02-20T15:54:00.000-08:00

I don't feel well enough to write, talk, walk, sit up, breathe deeply, eat, read, or listen. My eyes are now yellowyellow, not just yellow-at-the-edges. My face is yellow, especially around my eyes and forehead, and my chest is yellow. The rest of me is yellow-ish.

I'm alone all day while Eric's at work. I'm lonesome but only for Eric. Just waiting to see what happens. Kinda squinting at it... looking through one eye.

I'm just mad about Saffron (Saffron's mad about me).

2008-02-15T20:51:00.000-08:00

I was at work on Valentine's day, chit chatting in the graphics department while the nice folks there went out of their way to help me with a (for me) demanding project, when one of the designers told me that I looked yellow.

I looked at my arm suspiciously. I check for yellowness with some frequency as my liver is (as my oncologist put it) "going sour" and as he's stated on several occasions "when your liver goes you're up a creek."

I told the designer it was just the light. She looked up and pronounced the light blue. Doggone designers and their finely calibrated color instruments. Bah!

Still, if I was yellow, I was barely yellow. I thought I could even be tricking myself into seeing yellow.

I had an appointment to have blood drawn from my port for tests that afternoon. Was there ever a finer Valentine tradition? The chemo nurse gazed into my eyes and pronounced me yellow, and I figured that was that. Jaundice it was, and this time I'm not just talking about my attitude. All that was left was the waiting, and my hyper-efficient HMO emailed me within two hours.

Bilirubin is a brownish yellow substance found in bile. It's produced when the liver breaks down old red blood cells. When bilirubin levels are high, the skin and whites of the eyes may appear yellow, or jaundiced. In cancer patients with liver tumors, jaundice can be caused by liver failure or a blocked bile duct.

My bilirbubin levels had always been within a normal range, meaning .3 or .4 or .5. My blood test came back as 5.1 -- a high level of toxicity.

At that point I figured myself "up a creek". I emailed my doctor, who responded very quickly, and he seemed to agree. He didn't disagree, anyway, and asked to see me the next morning.

Which brings me to today.

To make a long story shortish... I may not be up a creek just yet. I'm certainly yellow... more yellowed than yesterday, for sure... but it may not be because of disease progression but instead a nasty side effect of my current (now former) chemo regimen.

Now there's just waiting and seeing. Eric and I left town this afternoon. As much as I love our home, I needed to see something different. As sick as I feel, I'm glad we did.

For a bit & a while I figured myself for dead in a month or two. That seemed like a realistic timeframe. I wasn't anxious or scared, but I was sad.

But for now I'm feeling optimistic. I think there's more time than that... I think this isn't a worst case scenario.

No guarantees, of course. I was going to say "for any of us, ever", but that's not true. I feel 100% certain of Eric and his goodness. That's what I'm guaranteed, and I'll take it.

Sigh

2008-02-14T08:37:00.000-08:00

Tired.

The cancer ladies are excited about a new project. They've decided that women with stage IV breast cancer are invisible in the media, and they're going to remedy that by making a quilt.

One of them suggested a logo for the project: a pink ribbon hanging on a cross. The motto: Hanging on Hope.

She thought some might find it "too religious", though.

They might.

Oh, I'd give anything to belong to a different club.

Monday

2008-02-11T09:09:00.000-08:00

Very slow and tired weekend but it was nice to have visitors -- Jane on Saturday and Lisa on Sunday.

Today's a day off from work. Thank you, President Lincoln.

Watched 60 Minutes last night and couldn't believe that Katie Couric asked Hillary Clinton for her health tips... how DOES she stay looking so good? And then asked her if it was true that the boys in highschool called her The Refrigerator. Sheesh.

I love the word "alchemy".

2008-02-07T00:33:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd avoided the TBS (Terrible Burning Stomach) when I went to bed at 11:00 PM, but it woke me up a few minutes ago. Not as bad as it's been in the past, but bad enough. At worst it makes me clutch my abdomen and cry for three hours or so.

I dunno, kids. I'm beat. I went to work for two hours on Tuesday, four hours on Wednesday. It was good to clear my desk a bit and to talk to people. I'm glad I went, but can I go tomorrow (today)? Another sleepless night and pain and feeling sick. I can't picture it.

For the first time I've spoken seriously with Eric about what it would be like to stop treatment. They'd keep me comfortable -- probably pretty foggy, I think. But the thought of being kept comfortable... what strange alchemy is this? Is it possible? Would I just sleep all the time? I don't think I'd mind sleeping all the time if this pain would stop.

I'll finish this round of chemo. Two more days of pills. Then Ill speak with my oncologist and see if anything... anything... anything... can make me feel better. So tired. So over it. Done.

NotherDay

2008-02-04T09:51:00.001-08:00

Last night I was thinking about what I'd do if I felt good for a day. I thought & thought about it, but the answer wasn't difficult to find. If I could feel good for one day I'd walk & walk in the sunshine with Eric. And I'd have a picnic, and I'd eat fruit and bread and cheese. I'd kiss Eric, because kissing isn't first priority when you're queasy for a month or two at a time.

It sounds so much like puppy dogs and rainbows and I hate that stuff. I hate sounding so wistful and that my dreams are so small, but there it is. It feels huge. Walking and sunshine and Eric. And I'd laugh and I'd want to talk to each one of my friends and laugh with them, too.

I swear I'd trade the last five months for one day. But there's no magic and no trades.

Well..

2008-02-03T19:47:00.001-08:00

I'm just hanging in there. Still waiting for something better!

Humpday

2008-01-30T22:13:00.000-08:00

I was home from work again today. It was a different experience, though. I spent my time in a dreamy, queasy, narcotic fog. Bone pain's back... familiar but not a friend. My spine, scapula, clavicle, sternum, hip, The Works.

It's been a while since I've taken these drugs. I don't mind a day of napping now & then. It's pleasant enough when the pain is controlled. I wouldn't choose it as an ongoing lifestyle, though.

Something's gotta give, and I'm hoping it's not one of my tired ol' bones or my sad ol' liver.

Drowsy & dreamy day... taking drugs and trying to eat and watching the worst of the worst programming on television. Somehow the worst of the worst is more satisfying to me than the best of the best. The best so often falls short. The worst is amusing either way. Bring on the music videos from India and reality TV

I was sorry to see Edwards drop out of the Democratic primary race. I know it was inevitable, but I liked having a third voice... particularly one that spoke about poor people. He impressed me very much when he was running w/ Kerry precisely because he spoke of poverty in America, which is an oddly and unquestionably uncomfortable subject.

Wishingwishingwishing for a better day tomorrow. Today was okay. Today was doable. But just a slight improvement tomorrow would be welcome.

Priceless

2008-01-29T09:11:00.000-08:00

I've been married to Eric long enough that I no longer question why he knows the things he knows. He just does. I'm not surprised when he mentions that Ry Cooter was a pioneer of digital recording, or when he quickly identifies two or three products I've seen lately that were designed by Isaac Mizrahi (and then answers when I ask "who?")

Eric just knows.

In twenty years I've never seen Eric sit down to watch a sporting event on tv. He's watched a game or two at my request -- a world series game, or the super bowl. But on his own? Not once. He has no interest in baseball, football, basketball, hockey, soccer, golf, or tennis. BUT... he knows about the players, and the games. Why ask why?

Eric can rebuild an engine, make a Bearnaise, and explain the quadratic formula to a fourteen year old. He can tell the truth, and say "no" with a smile. He can grade papers in a chemotherapy suite. He can name the longest river in the world, the largest desert in the world, and he can tell you how a refrigerator works.

He can juggle five balls and does a mean Gollum impression. He can make me laugh, always -- every single time -- by pretending to be the The Fighting Aubergine. I just adore him. Absolutely adore him.

I'm thinking about Eric today as I sit her at home. Again. Too sick to go to work, or to do anything else for that matter... but well enough to be bored. It's a strange position. I want to feel like a day home to rest is a BONUS, but I'd really much rather feel better and go to work.

I miss Eric, too. Can you tell?

Monday

2008-01-28T11:58:00.000-08:00

Eric and I have an Oscar Nominee Weekend tradition. Over one weekend (including Friday evening) we'll see all of the nominees for Best Picture that we haven't yet seen, and sometimes we've included the Best Actor and Actress performances, as well.

I believe we'll continue the tradition this year, but I really don't want to see any of the movies. It's kinda sad. The nominees are:

Atonement
Juno
Michael Clayton
No Country for Old Men (the only nominated movie that we've seen)
There Will Be Blood

That's just four movies to see ... not too bad. Still, I'm just not psyched for those movies.

I'm home from work today... just not sure how I feel about this chemotherapy -- or, how this new chemotherapy makes me feel. We'll see.

That's All

2008-01-25T22:19:00.000-08:00

It's been a cold, rainy, few days here in Oakland, California. Haven't had much to say lately or much energy to say it. I'm glad it's the weekend. I'm glad I'm spending the weekend with my handsome husband.

When the fat lady sings.

2008-01-22T18:06:00.000-08:00

There are so many people in the world who believe that they'll be reunited with their loved ones in death. If pressed they'd probably have to admit to believing that they'll be reunited with their enemies, as well, but they're all figuring to be better spirits in heaven than on Earth.

Or maybe it's a small majority who've bought into the Family Circus model: Grandpa peeking over the clouds, watching fondly as little Billy runs a circuitous route through home and garden.

People speak of spirits, souls, the cosmic consciousness... reincarnation and a zillion other post-life conditions -- including conscious, eternal, torment in hell -- for which their exists not one shred of evidence.

I'd say that it must be nice to hold such beliefs... that it must be a great comfort... but it'd be like saying I wanted to crazy glue scales to my eyes. I wouldn't take a delusion pill if it was offered. I think.

But I will be taking chemotherapy pills very soon -- this week, or next week. It's another nasty (hopefully effective) drug, but this one's in pill form. In multi-pill form, really. I'll be taking a small handful of 'em in the morning and the evening.

This raises a question for me. If the pills make me feel sick, will I make myself take them? There's something about a scheduled appointment to show up for a 7 hour IV drip that takes some of the personal choice away. Not all of the choice, but enough that I can disconnect from the experience a bit.

But to swallow pill after pill...

Well...

No point in borrowing trouble.

Maybe it won't make me sick. Maybe it will shrink the cancer. There's about a 20% chance it will work for two or three months, anyway. Which is better odds than I'd give the likelihood of being reunited with loved ones in death.

If that's a belief you hold, I'd like you to think about it. Really noodle it for a few minutes and try to figure out the basis for your belief. Unless you're a Christian.

If you're a Christian, please don't think about it all. What's the point?

Monday Off

2008-01-21T22:23:00.000-08:00

An uneventful 3-day weekend. Did a whole heap o' nothing.

Getting a bone scan tomorrow, which is a several hour process. First the injection of radioactive isotopes, then a loooooong wait.

Eric is going with me. It's just too much, now -- can't do it on my own.

I saw several pictures of my brother Mark today that I'd never seen before. He was killed in 1989. There was something about it ... the newness of the pictures, I think... that made me very sad. He looked so young. He was young when he died -- just twenty-six years old -- but he was still my big brother.

Now he's just a baby to me.

He told me once that he didn't think he'd live to be thirty. I can picture the oonversation. I can here his voice, hear his words. We were sitting on the front lawn of my familial home. I didn't think much of his prediction, and I still don't think he had a premonition. It was more like an unlucky guess, I think.

Anyway, those pictures threw me.

And a one and a two

2008-01-17T22:14:00.000-08:00

I've had a song stuck in my head for two days. I won't say what it is because I don't even want to type the title. I don't want to look at the words. I think they'd burn my retinas.

I've tried replacement songs. I've been working on the railroad, but it didn't erase the offending song from my brain. Things may be great when you're downtown, but the song remains the same.

Other than that... I'm just hanging out and looking forward to a three day weekend.

Same Old

2008-01-16T20:03:00.000-08:00

Wish I had something new to say!

I slept for 13 hours yesterday, after work -- still was sleepy this morning.

I'm looking at Eric. He's handsome and smiling. We're watching television and I'm drinking seltzer water from a pretty glass with a straw. When I fell in love with Eric I fell in love forever.

Turn to face the strange chachachanges.

2008-01-14T20:19:00.000-08:00

It was a better day than many recent ones. Went to work... was sometimes able to forget about being so green around the gills.

Eric and I met with my oncologist this afternoon. It's not quite a crisis, but it's getting there -- baaaad numbers coming back from tests... signs of serious liver problems pending... was told today that my liver is "going sour". I believe it.

So I'm done with my current regimen. I'll have a two week break. During that time I'll have yet another ct scan and bone scan. Then I'll start a new chemotherapy.

I was given several from which to choose. Doesn't matter much which one I choose on accounta each of them will either work (less likely) or won't (more likely).

Cancer treatments have diminishing returns, over all. Your best bet is your first line treatment. Your second best bet is your second line treatment. I'm looking at third line. It was gonna happen -- could have happen a year ago, and could have happened a year from now.

And, anyway, it's always a crap shoot. Having held the title of highest ranking female craps player, I know that anomaly happens.

So I'm hoping for an anomaly... a treatment that is 1. effective 2. for a bit & a while, that 3. doesn't make me feel too bad. Could happen.

Could.

Sunday Night

2008-01-13T22:37:00.000-08:00

I quiet, queasy, weekend. Eric's mother was here visiting. It was all fine. Tired and not looking forward to work tomorrow. What else is new?

But I do feel a bit better, and I hope that trend continues. We'll see!

Slow

2008-01-09T19:19:00.000-08:00

I measure my progress with a painstakingly calibrated internal instrument. I went to work yesterday and today. I feel the teensiest bit better. I'm able to stand a little longer. I made an extra trip to the mailbox today, which I couldn't have done yesterday. Let's face it: I'm too sick to be at work. I'm too sick to be at work, but I'm at work, and doing what I can.

The Ladies Who Lunch were sweet. They enthusiastically applauded the half inch of sparce, grey, poofy, hair I unveiled today. One of them let me sit while she made copies for me, as standing to make 20 or so copies really felt like it was toooooo much.

These are small matters, I know...

It was a small, quiet, day.

Will try again tomorrow.

2008-01-07T21:07:00.000-08:00

Wow. Talk about a sick day! Sick, sick, sick.

I missed Eric so much. I've spent nearly every waking moment with him for two weeks, and yet I still wanted to cry when he left the house this morning. Eric. Sigh.

I'm really going to try to make it to work tomorrow. It's an iffy thing. I'm truly ill, and I don't want to get stuck there, overwhelmed, or to embarrass myself in any way.

But staying home and feeling sick and disconnected from the world -- that's not the high option, either.

Looking around for the high option but nothing is jumping out at me.

I guess that's all for now.

Done!

2008-01-06T22:40:00.000-08:00

It was a slow, post-chemo, weekend. I'm thinking about work tomorrow. I can't imagine how I can go, and yet I want to go. We shall see.

I've completed 2007 in Review . It's overly long. No surprise there, I s'pose.

Other than that, all I can think to say is that I watched the New Hampshire presidential debates last night. What a mess THAT was!

Hoping the decodron allows me to sleep...

Fun Until They Fixed It

2008-01-05T00:30:00.000-08:00

Eric and I discovered, when we returned home from my 6 hour stint in the BPR (Blue Plastic Recliner), that we were without electricity.

It wasn't unexpected. It was a dark and stormy day. The little beige television that swings on an awkward girder-and-industrial-spring mechanism at the hospital had been full o' reporters who were blah blah blahing about the rain and the power outages. Much ado about nothing, I thought.

Apparently it was the biggest storm in TWO YEARS! I can't tell you how that made me laugh the first time I heard it. Two years! Feh.

Anyway... we had no electricity and no heat, but Eric built a cheery, crackling, fire. We opened up the blinds to catch what light would filter through the clouds & rain, and played Gin (Eric won two out of three games, of course). The fire made the ornaments on our can't-believe-it's-still-standing-xmas-tree sparkle. We talked & talked.

I loved it, and I was sad when our electricity was restored in an annoyingly efficient time frame.

That's more or less my whole story. Chemo was fine. Tonight's been fine -- although our house has just been infused with the potent smell of skunk. It's STRONG. And it's within a few days of the one year anniversary of our horrible possum experience. So... wish us luck on the skunk front.

Day One

2008-01-01T22:03:00.000-08:00

It's the first day of the new year, and even if we didn't start 2008 in our accustomed fashion -- herding a group of bleary eyed campers to Mama's Royal Cafe for breakfast -- we did continue a much older tradition in that we started the year together.

My mobility is limited, but I pushed myself to do more. More doesn't amount to much but I'm trying not to focus on that!

We took a picnic lunch to the Berkeley Marina and sat in the bright sun and brisk air. My cup of soup was delicious -- cannellini beans and faro and veggies in a thick, flavorful, broth. I was very chummy with that soup at a time when food is usually not my friend. Yum.

Blue, blue, blue

Our walk was embarrassingly short, but it was all I could manage. Still.. the marina is one of our old haunts, and it was good to be there, however briefly.

Then we went to the movies. The walk from our car to the theater nearly matched our walk at the marina. I stopped several times to catch my breath -- a thorn in my side -- but again: we were there. I did it.

We saw the sequel to National Treasure. We enjoyed the first movie very much. The sequel wasn't as a good. It had its moments, though, and it's always nice to be out at the movies.

Now Eric is peeling an orange for me.

I squeezed as much goodness from this day as I could. This is the biggest present I can give Eric, and I want to remember how important it is.

That's not a resolution as much as it's a wink & a kiss blown to the man who turned my life around & showed me how to be happy. And he peels my oranges, too.

A cup of kindness, yet

2007-12-31T22:41:00.000-08:00

In about 1.25 hours it'll be 2008, and I'm sooooo happy to be spending another NYE with my darling husband.

There's no Camp Martha (difficult to explain if you don't know what that is), no big party at our house (although we did stop by a party in the city for a bit). It's quiet and we're quiet... and it's good to be here.

I'm feeling lucky, lucky.

Home

2007-12-29T09:09:00.000-08:00

We drove through lovely, light, flurries of snow and arrived home yesterday afternoon. It's nice to be home.

I enjoyed the Atlantis Casino and Resort, Every Player's Paradise, but I wasn't able to participate fully. I couldn't really eat while we were there, and I was too tired to attend the awards banquet for the tournament.

I'm glad that Lisa was there, not just because Lisa's so much fun but also because Eric had someone to spend time with while I, more or less, spent a couple o' days in the the room.

I expected to feel better by now. I haven't had chemo in several weeks, and that's always meant a general upswing for me. But now I feel worse, not better, and I'm confused. Is it cancer that's made me so exhausted? Is it the cold I've been fighting for weeks? Some unfortunate combination of the above?

I want to feel better.

In Brief

2007-12-27T17:20:00.000-08:00

I've been too tired to blog. Christmas was nice but it was also difficult. I think my days of hosting dinner parties are over. I was exhausted and slow-thinking and slooooow-moving.

It was the 20th Christmas dinner Eric and I have hosted, if we count our first Christmas dinner which was more a group, pot-luckish, affair.

This year I wasn't able to do things the way I like. It felt slapdash and slipshod, and I found myself fighting back tears for the majority of the evening. I really just wanted to be in bed.

We woke up the next morning and drove to Reno with L.L. I find that I'm somewhat stuck. I can't walk very far, and I don't feel good. Even paradise can't make things better.

Christmas Eve Eve

2007-12-23T19:33:00.000-08:00

I came upstairs on Friday and I haven't been back down since. I could certainly make it down there, but the thought of walking back up is daunting.

I've barely moved for 48 hours and yet I'm exhausted. The day was already in double digits when I woke up. I ate half of a bagel, drank apple juice, and then took a nap. I felt well rested when I arose from my nap at 2:00 PM but depleted my energy by walking the 20 feet from the bed to the bathroom.

I'm surprised to be in this condition. Some mornings there's a moment of confusion followed by a small jolt of remembering.

I guess I feel okay. A few aches, some pain ... queasiness... low grade fever... intermittent headache... no feeling in my feet... a series of bloody noses and a strange stomach ache that comes and goes. That all sounds pretty bad, but it's not bad in the big picture. It makes me smile to type it -- it sounds absurd, I know -- but it's not bad. My body's okay.

My spirits... also okay, I guess. I'm sleepy and dreamy. I have moments of feeling upset. I feel useless, defunct. I feel afraid that "this is it"... this is now my life at best, with nothing but greater discomfort to follow. But those are just moments and just feelings.

My heart is full, on accounta I'm married to Eric. I'm spending another Christmas with Eric. Lucky, lucky, me.

I'm not much for flinging warnings or advice into the universe. Being sick hasn't given me any wisdom and people will do as people will do ANYway. Including me.

But... take a moment, if you can, to think of the parts of your body that are functioning well right now. I know that we all have our hitches and ickiness. But if you're breathing easily, take a few deep, clear, breaths. If your back doesn't hurt, stretch and roll your shoulders and think about how good it feels. If you can feel your toes, wiggle 'em and say hello.

Counting Down

2007-12-20T21:14:00.000-08:00

One more day of work -- a busy, busy, day of work -- and then I'll have two weeks off. Winter break is sooooo delightful.

In some ways I wish I'd started to work for a school district years & years ago. I could have had all of that lovely time with Eric. Working a school year schedule just plain ROCKS. I knew it would be good, but I didn't know how good it would be.

On the other hand, as a younger (and healthier) woman, I would have been bored to tears by the social opportunities there. I would never have known the fabulousness of a Lisa L. or a Tomas da Silva or an Abbingsole nee Batesole. I would have been Pennie-less and Corinne-deficient. And can you say Luana? I can! Luana.

I'm not sure we'd have ever hosted big dance parties or manufactured our own disco balls, and I may never have made The Punch. Certainly there would be no Camp Martha.

Of course -- there's no Camp Martha this year. And no dance parties. No disco balls and no punch.

One more too-busy day of work and then a two week vacation. Yay!

Odd

2007-12-18T08:14:00.001-08:00

Here are the most recent Google searches that brought folks to my blog:

paradise pair o dice

light crimson color

kitchenaid mixer miniature

oh martha

plastic recliner

sclerotic foci what are

If Only CT Stood for Christmas Tree

2007-12-16T23:00:00.000-08:00

Decorating our Christmas tree was challenging. It's smaller-than-usual and the branches lack a certain... how to put it. .... rigidity that is greatly desirable in a Christmas tree. Still, it's pretty, and it's ours, and it's done. Our house smells wonderful. I'm happy.

Eric did a lovely job on the lights. We still need to put on candy canes -- don't let me forget to buy some!

In other news, we received the results of my latest ct scan on Friday.

My old oncologist used to call me to answer my questions or give me test results as late as nine or ten o'clock at night. Eric and I were scared out of our minds in those early days. We'd wait on pins and needles, and we'd cling to each other. There were times when I didn't want to be as far away from Eric as the next room. When the phone would ring my heart would jump into my throat. I was madly, blindly, afraid.

The night that the doctor called with the test results that confirmed that I had metastatic disease, Eric listened to the call on an extension. I thanked him for the call, and told him that I understood that it was difficult to make a prediction, but did he have any idea how long I might have to live?

"With luck, four or five years," he said.

That was 2.5 years ago, and in the big picture I've had a decent quality of life. I've not had much in the way of luck, though.

This is what it looks like when I get a ct scan, except I have no hair and my arm is covered with bandages and cotton from failed IV attempts.

I quickly failed hormonal treatment (which is the key to any kind of long term survival) and now I've failed Taxol. While my second (or third, or fourth) line drug COULD work, and could work for a year or more -- it's really just not probable.

I'm not saying it couldn't happen. It could happen. But my best bets have been exhausted.

I dunno.

I'm not without my own version of hope. I have wishes, at least -- wishes for more time & happiness with Eric, wishes for another Christmas and a Christmas tree with a little more oomph in its branches -- and I believe they can come true.

More immediately, tonight I get to sleep next to the love of my life and my favorite person in the world. Something or someone at work tomorrow will make laugh & laugh. No complaints, here. Yet. I reserve the right for later.

It's the promise of life in your heart.

2007-12-15T10:00:00.000-08:00

This story has a happy ending.

I awoke this morning with a giant crazy headache ... crawled (psychically, anyway) to the office where I called Eric, who was downstairs, on the phone to ask for coffee. My head hurt too much to call good morning down the stairs.

Mercifully, in a few minutes I was handed a hot cup of coffee and a handful of ibuprofen. I wrapped myself in my mother-in-law's super comfy soft blanket and decided to check my email.

In that moment, as if a switch had been flipped, both sides of my nose began to bleed profusely. Blood ran down my face. I reached for a tissue and knocked over the hot coffee, which poured unto my lap and the keyboard and ran to the floor, along with the blood that still poured from my nose.

I called for Eric, who came racing up the stairs...

And then I burst into tears... ran to the bathroom... bled into the sink and dripped coffee.

I'm not sure what happened next. All I know is that some minutes later I found myself warm and dry, lying on the couch in the bedroom, with tissue stuffed up my nose, a replacement blanket, another cup of coffee, and a laptop balanced on my stomach, watching this:

Elis Regina & Tom Jobim

And I was smiling, smiling. Once again, Eric saved the day (with a little help from bossa nova).

Life is Good

2007-12-13T22:28:00.000-08:00

I went to work today, thank goodness. I'm someone who enjoys leisure time. When I didn't work for a year I wasn't bored for a moment. I couldn't tell you a darn thing I did in that year, but it was great. I like not working.

But being at home and feeling icky, and being (or at least feeling) isolated from the rest of the world is just plain no-fun-at-all. If I'm feeling under the weather I'd much rather be at work. I'd rather be productive, move around a bit, engage in a little low-level social hooey.

My job can be very busy and pleasant.

I was scheduled for chemotherapy tomorrow but I asked to be excused. I just couldn't do it. Or... I could do it, but at what cost? Just the thought of it made me want to cry.

I'm still going to the hospital, though, on accounta I have a meeting with my oncologist to go over the results of my latest ct scan. I received preliminary word already, and the word's not so hot. It's not worst-case-scenario but I don't suppose there'll be much to celebrate, either.

That's okay. I don't celebrate good scans 'cuz I don't want to cry over bad ones. If I have the oomph to celebrate I'd rather hip hip hooray for my darling husband or even the fast approach of winter break.

Yikes.

2007-12-12T18:47:00.000-08:00

I'm starting to feel like I'm suffering. I find the notion insufferable. I have to switch it up, quick-like, or else.

I woke up today to go to work and quickly realized it was impossible. I'm sick in a new way. It's new to me, anyway.

I'll try again tomorrow.

Oh well.

2007-12-11T22:42:00.000-08:00

I spent a few years listening to Christians. I listened & listened. I read the Bible -- twice -- and asked questions. George W. Bush had just been appointed President of the United States of America by the Supreme Court. I was afraid for my country and felt out of touch.

So I started listening to, and speaking with, and asking questions of, people who actually used phrases along the lines of "west coast liberal latte drinking demoncrat". For reals.

I came to the table with a general sense that Christianity was okay... just another system of ethical thought ... and that there were a few bad apples who turned it into something ugly.

I had that wrong. But that's another story.

This is all a bunch of yakyakyak that's leading to virtually nothing at all. It's just that I had the thought today that I'm feeling a bit like Job. When it came to Job and his trials the fix was in. He was pummeled by both Satan and God, essentially for their own amusement.

Job was a faithful servant, though. And I... I'm just sad and tired and sick. I just want to be able to stand up and walk across a room without thought or concern. I want to feel good with Eric and spend time with Eric and bring Eric happiness, not work & worry.

I had to leave work in the early afternoon today to run to the doctor, where I was diagnosed with shingles, which is Chicken Pox for Adults. Well... not really chicken pox for adults. But childhood chicken pox remains dormant in the roots of our nerves, and when/if it reappears it's shingles.

It's most likely to return during times of stress, immuno-suppression, chemotherapy, HIV, or cancer.

I don't have HIV!

The problem is... in some cases it can be quite painful. Seriously painful. And I'm afraid that's the case for me. I can't lift my arm, it hurts so badly.

And it's just that there's so much other stuff that's wrong. My blood counts and my numb hands and numb feet and my shortness of breath and my dizziness and my nosebleeds and my nausea.

I dunno. It's just one more thing. Another straw won't break the camel's back. I'll just have to tuck it away somewhere, and try to get on with my days.

Good Grief

2007-12-10T22:06:00.000-08:00

We went out Christmas tree shopping on Sunday, but it wasn't our usual half-day affair. We didn't make six stops, drive out of the city and into the suburbs and then, finally, into the way way out sub-suburbia.

I'm picky about Christmas trees.

Our trees are large Large LARGE -- bigger than advised for the space of our living room. They are gorgeous and symmetrical and (I believe) stunning.

There have been those who've claimed our trees are TOO large, and TOO perfect. The very notion makes me laugh.

But... not this year. Not TOO large this year. Not TOO perfect. I just didn't have the oomph to search. I walked down a few aisles of the first lot, and found a tree that "would do".

I've never had a will-do Christmas tree before.

I'm not claiming it's a Charlie Brown. But it's the smallest tree we've ever had. It practically fits!

And it's kinda bendy and bushier here and bare there. When we get it decorated (usually something that happens within 24 hours but not this time, boy) it'll be pretty, I'm sure. But I'm not so sure it'll be grand.

I wanted to add something here that I should have mentioned a few days ago. Last Thursday we went out to dinner with friends... some traditional Oakland BBQ w/ Janis and Jennie and Tom and Corinne. It was fun.

We talked and ate and talked some more, and it was nice to see everyone. It's important to note the good stuff. I've been feeling bad, but there's still a lot of goodness 'round here.

That's my story on Monday evening.

The Hemoglobin-Tannenbaum Connection

2007-12-08T22:51:00.000-08:00

Hemoglobin is the protein molecule in red blood cells that carries oxygen from the lungs to the body's tissues, returns carbon dioxide from the tissues to the lungs, and carries people to lots to look for Christmas trees. Both my hemoglobin and Christmas tree counts are low.

I had chemotherapy yesterday and it was the first time I've been offered a blood transfusion. It was optional, based on how I reported my symptoms -- light-headedness, shortness of breath, fatigue. I have those things. Boy, do I have those things. But my head wasn't ready for a blood transfusion. They're coming, and I'll deal... but I wasn't ready yesterday.

When my hemoglobin level goes down .6 of a point I won't be given an option. Except, of course, in the sense that all medical choices are optional. Except for some abortions in some states. Thanks, Christians.

I want to get a tree. It's a bit early for us but I know that decorating it will be a multi-day task, as I'm so tired.

Also, I love the lots. Love the 20 year tradition of Christmas tree shopping with Eric. I love the big stick Eric takes to measure the trees, and the way he smiles at the purveyor of trees and says, "That looks like a six footer to me!" when it's clearly two feet taller.

More often than not, the saleman agrees. Eric's taught me so much in this life. It took a darling man who'd never bought a Christmas tree in his life to teach me how to shop for one.

My first Christmas with Eric, when he drove me from lot to lot, turned every tree around for me, carried the giant douglas fir up three flights of stairs to my attic apartment, and then hesitantly, barely, helped me decorate it because he'd never decorated a Christmas tree before... I already knew, then, that he was my favorite person on the planet and someone I wanted to know for the rest of my life.

Hemoglobin is what makes blood red and what makes tromping around Christmas tree lots a pleasure and not a burden. I want it back. Badly.

Go, hemoglobin, go!

Sheesh.

2007-12-06T13:42:00.000-08:00

I felt harried and overburdened this morning as I made my way through the process of receiving a ct scan. I was tired and confused as I drove to the hospital. Some cruel fate had sent me out on a cold, rainy, morning -- all by myself -- to park my car and walk to the elevator and negotiate the people and the lines. Somehow I couldn't believe it.

A 325 year old woman stood before in line at the oncology department. She was tiny and grey, but she was one of those spitfire-types. I'm sure people have been calling her a pip for the last three centuries. Unfortunately, I was exhausted and couldn't fathom that I had to stand there and wait for her to unfold her elaborate nest of bags, purses, smaller purses, smaller purses, smaller and smaller purses, until she somehow found her credit card within the insane labyrinth of her personal storage items. All of this for a three dollar co-pay! I felt dizzy and sick. I smiled blandly.

The infusion nurses couldn't find a vein. I don't know how many pricks later -- after heating pads and tourniquets and one unwanted hug -- it was finally decided that my forbidden arm was to be used. Fine. I wonder, though, why it took 1 hours and 20 minutes and a half dozen band aids to make that call?

I shuffled over to a trailer in the parking lot of the MacArthur/Broadway Mall to check in for my scan. My appointment was at 9:40 and I arrived at 9:40 -- IV dangling, arm dotted with cotton balls and blood... sick to my stomach and near tears and coffee-less... only to be told that I was LATE. I was late, and they'd taken the person who was to have followed me.

I protested (stupidly, at that point) that I wasn't late! I wasn't late... I'd been sitting in infusion for an hour and 20 minutes, being pricked & pricked... trying to be a good sport... and they'd given my appointment away!

"You need to check in no later than 9:25 for a 9:40 appointment", she snapped.

"Well, I was 20 yards away, trying to ready myself for my 9:40 appointment", I cried.

Sigh.

Oh, the burden of it! I'm laughing now, but I wasn't laughing then. I was so put upon by it all. How could this be happening? First cancer, and now a snippy little girl telling me I'm LATE when I wasn't LATE.

The scan itself was uneventful. The tech was cheerful and efficient, the activities routine for me now. Now there's a warm sensation in your arm. A metallic taste in your mouth. Breathe in. Hold your breath.

Then it was time to get dressed and go to work. Which I did. And I stopped for coffee on the way.

Ugh

2007-12-05T20:08:00.000-08:00

Feeling sick is becoming distressful. So sick, so tired. Sometimes I don't want to walk down the hall. Sometimes it feels like I can't stand, although I can stand.

As always, feeling sick is one thing and being distressed about feeling sick is another. I need to work it out.

A woman walked up to my desk today at work and said, "You look like you're really going through something". She was referring to my baldness. She asked me what was going on. When I looked confused she said that she knows SO many people with cancer. I wouldn't give her a thing.

I'd never seen her before in my life. I asked her name.

Finally she looked so stricken by my lack of response that I let her off the hook. Yes, yes... so much cancer these days, I said. She scurried away.

She has a story now and it's likely something about the Mean Lady w/ Cancer.

I have a story, too. Chicken soup and Hanukkah candles and rereading Gone With The Wind and Eric in the next room entering his student's grades into the computer. Cancer, too. Feeling sick, too. Sick, sick, sick. Sick.

Just feels like Monday.

2007-12-04T13:04:00.000-08:00

Eric covered me with a blanket this morning in the car. We drove in together, and I was in the passenger seat with a blanket and feeling not-so-hot. We talked a bit about Hanukkah. Tonight's the first night and Eric's making latkes. We'll eat brisket and latkes and light the candles, say a few words in Hebrew.

He said this morning that he was sorry that I was having such a hard time... that he didn't think it was fair. I just feel glad to have another Hanukkah with my favorite person in the world. In so many ways I'm sitting pretty.

Monday

2007-12-03T17:58:00.000-08:00

I stayed home from work today, although I could have gone. I was still queasy from Friday chemo and I was tired, but work would have been okay. I stayed home and made chicken soup, which turned out to be a surprising amount of effort.

Just cruising along. I have a CT Scan this week... can't remember what day... and chemo again on Friday. I'm green around the gills. I'm in love with Eric. I tired of the smell of chicken soup.

Important Holiday Message

2007-12-01T22:55:00.000-08:00

There aren't many couples I think are as perfect for each other as Eric and I, but here we are dancing with two crazy kids in love:

Check out these moves.

G'morning

2007-11-29T07:11:00.000-08:00

It's been a few days since I blogged. Not much going on around here -- we'be been going to work and coming home. Once at home I've spent a few hours playing silly computer games (a personal weakness) and then I've gone to bed.

Chemo tomorrow, but let's not think about that today.

What else?

I finished reading Alan Alda's autobiography, Never Have Your Dog Stuffed, last night. Bad title but an enjoyable autobiography. He drops very few names and doesn't give the the dirt on anyone (another genre of enjoyable autobiographies) but writes in a mild, amused, voice about his life and foibles.

Eric is tout en noir today, and he's looking adorable.

I guess it's time to go to work, which has been busy but calm. AMN has been avoiding me, and it's a beautiful thing.

Off we go!

Home Again

2007-11-23T15:32:00.000-08:00

It was a good Thanksgiving. It was good beyond the wonderful food (the food was wonderful) and the fun gambling (the gambling was fun). It was goodgoodgood to be there with Eric, doing whatever it is that we do together that makes life so easy and pleasure so possible. I can't explain it. I'm just the happy recipient of this gift.

Driving home was good, as well. It doesn't matter what's rolling past our windows. Doesn't matter if it's desert or trees or the road rolling brown and black. We talk and sing songs and play games. Today we sang lines from bands or artists from A to Z. Who knew that "D" would be for Dido? A yet, somehow, it was. I would have put my money on Bob Dylan -- or even John Denver -- but as soon as D was called it was all about Dido. I only knew one like:

I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life.

Today wasn't the best day of my life, but whatever the best day of my life was... Eric was there.

Grace

2007-11-22T00:00:00.000-08:00

It's good to be here. It was an enjoyable evening of gambling. I'm a little bit up for the evening, a little bit down for this trip, and waaaaaay ahead when it comes to love. I have love in spades & clubs & diamonds & hearts. I have Eric and I'm thankful for Eric every day.

Humpday's not nice when you're on vacation.

2007-11-21T08:24:00.000-08:00

I'm really just beat. Very pleasant stay in paradise, but I'm slow moving and thinking. I feel all wobbley like a top that's winding down.

Eric is up in the concierge suite, sitting in a comfy leather chair & drinking coffee & reading the paper. I'm ... I don't know what I'm doing. I just woke up, but I'm ready for bed! So odd!

Pair o' Dice

2007-11-20T08:46:00.000-08:00

Or... paradise. Here we are at the Atlantis Casino Resort and Spa, Every Player's Paradise. It's not a traditional Thanksgiving, that's for sure, but so far it's been nice, nie, nice.

I'm awfully tired. There's no standing at the craps table, that's for sure. But I've gambled a bit -- blackjack, slots -- and enjoyed looking at Eric.

Boy, I should list some of things that our restaurant is serving for Thanksgiving. It's a very good Italian restaurant here in paradise... not a buffet.. but they're doing a special buffet for the holiday. It sounds amazing.

Well ... not even 9:00 AM and it's nap time already! Ah, vacation.

Day of Rest

2007-11-18T13:46:00.000-08:00

Chemo and steroids are pulsing through my system like nobody's business, and I'm feeling pretty punky. Was up until nearly 6:00 AM and then slept for about five hours. Now I have a hankering for waffles and bacon. My darling Eric will make this dream come true -- as he has turned so many fantasies into reality -- and we'll see if it's always good to get what you wish for.

To receive that which you wish.

To be the recipient of a fulfilled wish.

Oh well. I s'pose it's too late to worry about grammar. I bet Tomas da Silva knows the right way to say it! That's how he rolls.

Eric and I are on Thanksgiving break, thank god. We get the whooooole week, and it's weloome.

By the way -- AngerManagementNurse yelled at me! Yes -- yelled at me on-purpose-for-no-reason.

I had to be all super calm about it and tell her that the conversation was over. Then I hightailed it my boss, and to my union, and blah blah blah. I'm perfectly satisfied with my measured response and do think she's a pathetic ol' thing... but I'm currently working on my exit strategy. I haven't got time for the pain!

Now I'm off to play silly computer games and nap. Doesn't that sound like a pleasant Sunday? Thank you, JeeZus!

Date of Birth

2007-11-15T07:13:00.000-08:00

It's Eric's birthday today, and as always I'm the one receiving the present. Spending another birthday with Eric is better than anything that ever came to me tied with a bow.

I could spend the next year smiling at him and stuffing his pockets with kisses and it wouldn't make a dent in the smiles and kisses I have for Eric.

People say that marriage is a lot of work, but I've not found this to be the case. Eric is easy, and marriage is fun, although life is sometimes difficult.

But life isn't difficult today. Today there's just me & Eric & a few hours we have to be separated by a couple o' blocks while we work. It's the anniversary of the birth of the person in the universe who has most rocked my world, who gave me hope, who makes me laugh, who melts my heart...

Eric's birthday, and all I can do is feel lucky (still and again).

Oh Sheesh.

2007-11-13T22:21:00.000-08:00

So sick and tired. All I know is that a day at work isn't s'posed to be a personal odyssey. I think I can make it, I think I can't make it. I tip toe through the AngerManagementNurse landmine... get mad & have to manage my own anger... think I can do it... think I can't do it...

So much hooey to go through just to have a little cash and distraction!

I know it'd be better if I didn't have a cold. It'd be better if I didn't have cancer, too. I suppose most things can be improved by the absense of cancer and colds. But that's just not the way it is.

Feh.

2007-11-12T22:17:00.000-08:00

It was a three day weekend and it went by too quickly and too slowly. Haven't felt so hot. Perhaps I'll feel better tomorrow.

Saturday

2007-11-11T02:19:00.000-08:00

Saturday (Sunday, now) has been a day of queasi- & icki- ness, but at least it's just been a day of queasi- & icki- ness. There were only a few moments when I was upset by the nausea. Being nauseated sucks, but being upset and nauseated feels almost unbearable.

Late in the afternoon Eric made reference to how it'd been raining all day. Who knew? I hadn't looked out a window or taken a step downstairs.

In my youth I loved rainy afternoons. I'd run home from school when it rained, not because I minded getting wet, but because on rainy days my mother would pop popcorn for me . It'd still be popping when I walked through the door.

I was sitting at the computer in the office, playing a silly game and listening to the lovely hum of Eric's snoring, congratulating myself on being kinda sleepy and contemplating going to bed early. Then I looked at the clock and realized that it was already after 2:00 AM.

Maybe tomorrow!

Just Friday

2007-11-09T18:45:00.000-08:00

Haven't had much to say lately, although lack of content hasn't kept me from posting in the past. We're just plugging along.

It was a ChemoFriday in the Blue Recliner. We were there 7.5 hours for chemo, and had to return for a separate late afternoon appointment with an ENT specialist.

It was such a long day in that little room that we were driven to silliness. We went through all of the drawers and found a bunch of boring overly-packaged plastic tubing & junk, along with a junkie's treasure trove of syringes. I messed around with the stick-it-in-yer-ear-type thermometer.

Eric strapped a piece of plastic flesh to his head. It's s'posed to be used to practice giving insulin injections, but Eric decided it functioned well as a forehead rest. It was velcroed to his head with a bright red strap when the nurse came in & found him resting his head face-first on the wall.

Then we blew up one of the vinyl gloves, divided the room by stringing the call button wire from it's wall plug to the blood pressure machine, and played volleyball. Eric had an advantage on accounta his chair was on rollers. Plus, I had an IV.

That was part of the day. The rest of our time there was fidgety and bored. I have a cold... my first cold in years & years... so there was a high blech and sniffle quotient.

The good news? We came home. I just finished bowl of delicious, homemade, beef vegetable soup w/ garlic toast. Days and days of time with my darling Eric spread before me. I'm not going to make you roll your eyes. I'm not going to thank Eric for any transfusions. But... it's close.

Thank you for this transfusion.

2007-11-06T20:58:00.000-08:00

I'm a little bit tired of the sound of my own voice. Too much yakking... too much blogging. That's why I'm offering someone else's voice. Please listen to the entire clip. I hope you find it as inspiring as I did. Enjoy!

Sweet Nothings

It's true.

2007-11-04T22:01:00.000-08:00

It was a nice weekend. The weather was bee you tea full. It was bright and warm and breezy. And if I was tired at least I didn't feel all-that-sick.

I even left the house! I haven't left the house on a weekend in a while. Yesterday we went to the city to buy an 8-quart Le Creuset French Oven (a sale at Bloomingdale's) and then to the Mission for a burrito. It hardly sounds like a grand outing, but it felt grand.

Today we went out to lunch. We were given crayons to write on the paper that covered the table, so we played hangman (Eric's first guess is always zee) and our own version of pictionary (which is half charades).

I like to play hangman with Eric. I also like to have lunch with Eric, to buy large, enamel-covered, cast iron cookware with Eric, and to drive over the Bay Bridge with Eric.

I enjoy his company, and would enjoy his company even without the whole three-hundred-percent-more-handsome-than -the -next- most-handsome-man thing.

Weekend

2007-11-03T08:56:00.000-07:00

It's a weekend sans chemo which is a good, good, thing. We have no plans 'cept relaxation.

Last night we had a few friends over for dinner. It was good to see folks. We've entertained so little in the last few years, after sooooo many years of parties and carrying on.

Now I'm drinking coffee and trying to decide if I have a headache. I hope I don't!

Done.

2007-10-31T20:01:00.000-07:00

October ends as it began, with my suggestion for a new breast cancer logo. Why not put this on your Christmas ornaments and vacuum cleaners?

I don't want to wish away time. I really don't want want to wish away time. But I'm glad October is over.

I wish that my awareness of breast cancer would diminish in November and December and the new year. I suspect that it will not.

I usually wear a hat at work. I wear a hat at work and almost nowhere else. I don't wear bonnets or flowered scarves or idiosyncratic floppy things, but small skull caps or knit caps in neutral tones.

I do this because I work in an outlying area, geographically close to Berkeley and Oakland and San Francisco, but a million miles away in terms of culture. It's just the facts. I work with people who were born and raised in towns like San Leandro and Fremont and they never left. Some of them have lived 20 minutes from San Francisco for 50-plus years and haven't gone there five times.

I like them. I'm just saying.

So.. I took my hat off for a moment today, and one of the women I work with began to laugh. I asked her what was funny. She told me that my hair (the barest wisps of hair) looked like a "mangy dog". Then she laughed some more.

I dunno. I can't claim to really have been hurt by it. Just... wow. A month of pink ribbons and TV movies and shopping for the cure and blah blah blah... but... keep yer head covered, lady. Cover your head, accentuate your cheekbones, and look pretty in pink.

Happy Halloween!

2007-10-31T07:42:00.000-07:00

Is postponed shipping a cure delayed?

2007-10-30T22:01:00.001-07:00

Pink Product of the Day:

Komen would have loved to sell you this lovely 2007 Christmas ornament set -- hope, promise, and cure -- in October. Unfortunately, due to overseas shipping delays, the ornaments won't be available for sale until November 16. All ready to shop for a cure and the cure isn't in stock!

Seriously. Not one.

2007-10-29T23:59:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day:

Garth Brooks – The Ultimate Hits Exclusive “Pink Edition”!

Garth Brooks has joined forces with Susan G. Komen for the Cure in the promise to end breast cancer forever, with the release of the “Pink Edition” of The Ultimate Hits album. The album is a new 3-disc set, and contains 30 classics, 3 new songs and a bonus track on two CDs.

It seems like oodles of money from the sale of this album will be going to Komen. I don't think that every pink product or person jumping on the band wagon is being cynical or seeking profit.

I won't impune his character -- I can't even name one of his songs.

I'm just saying ENOUGH!

Comfy Cure

2007-10-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Management,

The good people at Lee would like you to send the following email to your employees:

October 5 is Lee National Denim Day! Lee National Denim Day gives us the chance to honor those who have been touched by breast cancer. Just donate $5 to the Women's Cancer Programs of EIF in exchange for wearing your favorite jeans to work,

It's hard to explain just how honored I feel.

I'm really looking forward to Halloween. No plans, really -- giving out candy to any children who ring our bell. Our home is in an urban area (thank goodness!) and so there aren't many trick-or-treaters. Those who are willing to walk up the many exterior steps to our front door are handsomely rewarded!

Mostly I'm looking forward to Halloween on accounta it signals the end of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. In a sense, every month is breast cancer awareness month 'round here... but without any fancy satin ribbons.

If awareness cured cancer I think I'd be cured. If shopping cured cancer I think I'd be cured. Komen's (and I say Komen with same inflection as Seinfeld says Neuman) latest bit of marketing genius is this tag line:

I AM THE CURE (tm)

But enough. It's almost over.

I found a blog today that made me laugh. I put a li'l link to it on the sidebar over there.

Was up until 7:30 AM this morning. Hoping to not repeat that experience! Work tomorrow and a long week ahead. Onward!

And in this corner...

2007-10-28T00:37:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day:

What do you fight for? High Performance Hook-and-Loop Training Glove - Pink

In the past year, Everlast has succeeded in redeveloping the training glove.With dense two-layer sandwich foam for better shock absorbency and full padding on the font and back or the wrist to promote proper punching technique, the glove conforms to the natural shape of the fist for more comfortable training.

Everlast will donate 5% from the sale of these pink boxing gloves to The Breast Cancer Research Foundation (BCRF), which is committed to preventing breast cancer and finding a cure in our lifetime by funding clinical and genetic research worldwide.

It's been a quiet post-chemo day... more queasy than usual but without the steroid-induced drama and turmoil from last weekend. I've been checking and rechecking myself. I've been trying to trust that's it's really okay even when it doesn't feel okay. Nearly twenty years of experience with my darling husband has to count for something in the trusting-it's-okay department.

So I've played silly computer games and watched tv... surfed the internet and chatted with Eric... and that's about all I can say about Saturday, October 27th, 2007. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Take me off the prayer list, please.

2007-10-27T09:38:00.001-07:00

Despite the fact that I have just three regular readers, I'm estimating that there will be between ten and twenty people who believe that I'm writing this post "for them". Believe me when I tell you that I am not writing this for anyone.. These words -- like everything I've written here -- are for common (and I imagine largely indifferent) consumption. You didn't do it. No one did.

Also, this is being typed in a conversational tone. I'm not grinding my teeth.

I'm a private person who has chosen to talk about personal things in a public forum. I have reasons for this, and they're not even interesting to me. For god's sake, 99% of what I write isn't even interesting to me! Just know that in the real world my life is not an open book.

For example, after knowing me for nearly ten years a close friend of mine was surprised to learn that I had a sibling who had been murdered. This was an event that in many ways formed and informed my whole belief system. It powerfully and irrevocably changed my life. It still reverberates. I just never thought to mention it.

Old friends and acquaintances don't know where I'm from, how many siblings I have, if and when I'm afraid, what I like about myself, or what I don't like about myself. Reading this it sounds like I'm Martha of Mystery, but honestly I'm not. I'm just reserved about those things. As stated earlier, I'm a private person. Plus, what's so fascinating about our own hooey?

Given the above it's surprising that I've shared some of things I've shared here. I've talked about crying, being afraid, being lonely....

I believe I conjectured once that my mother would be happy that I'm dying....

I've posted entire radiology reports of CT Scans...

But I wasn't writing an e-mail to you.

The only aspect of blogging that makes me uncomfortable is receiving emails from people who respond privately to statements I've made publicly.

One of the reasons I'm a private person is that I don't want people saying they're going to pray for me.

Posting comments? Posting comments is great! If you want to pray for me, please tell me so in a posted comment. Let everyone else see that you're going to pray. If my post made you cry, please post that, as well. Perhaps everyone would like to know that you've been crying.

I purposefully created a blog without a "link" for people to email me privately, because I did not wish to correspond privately about these matters. Unless I do. And if I do, you probably know.

Also, please be aware that "read your blog... just want you to know I'm thinking about you" is fine. That's not what I'm talking about here.

Do you know what I'm talking about here?

Let's hope!

Cranny this.

2007-10-26T01:38:00.000-07:00

I was sick and tired today... sick and tired all week.... and so I stayed home from work. I was discombobulated and restless. I watched Terms of Endearment, the 80's movie in which Debra Winger dies of an unnamed cancer. The tagline: Come to Laugh, Come to Cry, Come to Care, Come to Terms.

I remember it being touted as a good movie, but it was really pretty schlocky.

Tomorrow (today) is Friday, and 3-out-of-4 Fridays mean chemotherapy. Not enjoying the chemo so much these days, and not looking forward to tomorrow (today).
Anyway.

Pink Product of the Day:

English muffins. Sigh.

Hmphday

2007-10-24T19:32:00.000-07:00

I'm a speed blogger and a poor & reluctant writer. I blog often and I say the same things, over & over. My three readers know what I have to say:

I love Eric, I have cancer, and (for the month of October, anyway) I hate pink.

How's that for a nutshell?

Eric will occasionally learn something from reading my blog. Eric knows me very, very, well. In fact, I used to be surprised by what Eric knew about me. He's not the sort of person who runs around shouting "aha!" and flipping the lights on. He's a smart person who doesn't hide his light under a bushel, but he doesn't expose people. He never exposed me. He just... knew.

But that's another story!

Eric knows me very well, and he knows when I feel sick. But Eric doesn't always know the way in which I feel sick, because I don't often discuss the specifics. It doesn't make me feel better to talk about it.

I'm much more likely to mention a symptom or complaint here than in the fleshy world. If I have earned a reputation for grousing I think it's most deserved in the blogosphere.

(I love Eric. I have cancer. Pink.)

But tonight I have something new to say: I wish I had a friend who had advanced breast cancer.

That sounds really bad. This is why I need to limit what I say...

Obviously I'm not wishing cancer on a friend. Never, never. Wouldn't wish it on an enemy, either... and I'm not sure I have any enemies that aren't the color of bubble gum and tied in perky little bows.

And I certainly know a gazillion women with breast cancer. I used to know about a gazillion-fifteen, but they died.

But I was just sitting here thinking how nice it would be to have a friend in the world who could really truly know what this experience is like! It makes me want to cry to think about it. There's something so lonely about this.

I'm not alone. I know. I know, I know. I have my wonderful husband, my wonderful friends... and then a whole, wide, world of acquaintances and support among women with breast cancer. But the truth is that having breast cancer isn't a heck of a lot to have in common with someone. It's just a circumstance. A bad one. But if there was someone who really got it and really got me...

Strange thoughts for a Wednesday night.

Another Tuesday Night

2007-10-23T21:05:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day:

I'm not exactly sure what sort of scrapbooking is typically done with this breast cancer awareness pink ribbon scrapbook set, which is available from Ritz Camera for just under $20.00. I suppose women could capture the sweet memories of their early days of diagnosis. The first blue-dot-tattoo to mark the area of radiation treatment, a snippet of hair from the first post-chemo hair cut...

It's hard to imagine. Think I'll stop trying.

I'm still feeling pretty darn sick. Not sure what to make of this. Fingers hurt & peeling, nose bleeding, bleeding, bleeding... perennial hiccups from nausea, tired and oddly restless.. headachey and bored. It sounds horrible, I know. It's not fun, but it's not horrible.

It's just... what's going on, I guess. I'm planning fun stuff for the future and white knuckleing the present. I can't choose to feel this bad forever, but I'll do it for a bit & a while.

Chapped

2007-10-22T18:11:00.001-07:00

ChapStick® is proud to support Susan G. Komen for the Cure’s vision of a world without breast cancer. For every Pink Ribbon Triple pack of Chapstick® Moisturizer we sell, we will donate 30¢ to Komen for the Cure with a minimum guaranteed donation this year of $100,000 to help find the cure for breast cancer. Our Pink Ribbon Triple Pack features a light, moisturizing formula and can be found on display in Food, Drug, Mass and some Special Market retailers nationwide.

It was a busy work day -- wanted to stay home but found myself so absorbed at work that the day flew by.

More of the same tomorrow. That's it!

Pink at Night

2007-10-21T23:48:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day: Only ten days left in October and oh-so-many products to showcase! I could display ten products a day and still not be able to capture the breadth and depth of the pinxkrieg.

Add some sparkle and light to your life with this striking light up pink ribbon! It's pink iridescent background and lots of super-bright lights make a statement anywhere it is hung or seen. Comes with power cord and hanging loop. Makes a great inspirational gift for yourself or special person in your life. 16" tall, 10" wide

Bloody Sunday

2007-10-21T14:22:00.000-07:00

Oh, yes, the special breast cancer package Ford Mustang is real. I'm just grateful that the car itself isn't pink. There's also a breast cancer edition Mercedes, but it has no pinkness at all -- just a straight donation from Mercedes.

It's been a difficult weekend. I've been sick, sick, sick. Queasy, and hungry -- unfortunate combination -- and there's something fishy going on in the salt world. Food that should be salty tastes saltless and/or tasteless. Imagine eating a frito and having only a textural experience. And food that isn't salty, an apple for instance, will taste as if it's encrusted with kosher salt.

Ugh.

Sweets taste most normal. So I've had a steady diet of cell-destroying chemotherapy drugs, vascular growth inhibitors, calcium-suckers, antihistamines, steroids, anti-nausea meds, a flu shot, caramel corn, and donuts.

There's a steady stream of blood clots pouring from sinuses into my mouth or down the back of my throat.

The steroids (which have been prescribed to fend off adverse reaction to the chemotherapy and to help w/ nausea) make me crazy. Sometimes they make me crazier than others. They primarily make me feel picked on by Eric. It's very disconcerting to believe that Eric is being mean to me. It's bad for me, and it's bad for Eric.

I've really worked hard to avoid this. I've tried to stay conscious of what's going on. I'm a good drug-taker, and I know when I'm "not right", so I check and double check my reactions.

Still -- this weekend has been hellish. I feel picked on by Eric, and he feels upset that I think he's picking on me. At best I'm a bit irrational-around-the-edges, and Eric (who is so good, and so patient) sometimes responds with hurt feelings, which I interpret as a form of aggression... and so it goes & grows.

The steroids also keep me awake. I was up until 5:00 AM Saturday morning and 3:30 AM this morning.

Bad, bad, weekend.

I'm glad for all the times I'm not crazy, though. It's such a ragged and raw feeling. There's so much turmoil there, and such potential to create ugliness. In the end I guess it just makes me even more grateful for what I have, and what I want so desperately to maintain: the peaceful enjoyment of my days, whatever the condition of my body.

Carbon Footprinting for a Cure

2007-10-19T19:51:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day:

From the Ford Motor Company: In every woman there is a believer, fighter, survivor. Now, the limited edition 2008 V-6 Mustang with Warriors in Pink Package adding more muscle than ever to the fight. The Warriors in Pink Package highlights include:

Pink rocker tape striping

Pink stitching on black GT seats

Pink stitching on leather-wrapped steering wheel

Mustang pony badging over pink breast cancer awareness ribbon

DecaDrone

2007-10-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

I've said this all before. Everything I've said on this blog has been said a half dozen times at a minimum. Still, here I am and it's still true.

I try to remember my old life -- with it's plethora of pleasant diversions -- with fondness but without attachment. If I look back with longing, then my current life begins to feel too hard. I want to appreciate what I had, and to appreciate what I have. I know of no other way to pass evenly and peacefully through my days.

I have reason to be happy. Comparisons don't help.

There was always the over-arching pleasure of Eric, and Eric's company. That was the most important thing, and that's still here... thank goodness.

But the happy diversions... the concerts, the plays, the dinner parties, the weekends away.... those days are gone. Our full calendar is gone.

Now we have one weekend a month without chemotherapy. There's one weekend a month with the possibility that I won't feel bad (although sometimes I do feel bad).

We ask ourselves how we should spend this time. Resting, probably. Or we could have a few friends over. That would be nice.

I think... well... let's be serious about this. Will I be alive for twelve months? Assuming that I feel terrible the last two months of my existence (letting myself off easy), how many of the ten remaining potentially not-too-icky-feeling weekends of my life should I spend... say... doing laundry? Comforting a friend in need? Worrying about the work week ahead?

There's no real answer. Just asking the question.

So, while the tyrannically positive are quick to tell me that I can still do some things that I want to do, even if I can't do everything that I want to do... all I have to say is pfffffffffffffffffffffft.

Yes, I know. I can do some things I want to do.

Things That I Decided I Wanted To Do This Week
In the past I would have done all of them:

1. Taking a trip to the Haunted Cornfield Maze at Ardenwood. It's always fun to go traipsing around in the dark, solving the puzzle & being startled by enthusiastic teenagers. Given my energy level and neuropathy it's probably not a good idea.

2. Going to see the Joseph Cornell and especially the Olafur Eliasson exhibits at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. They're right up my alley, and Eric and I could make a day of it, with a trip to the museum and lunch in the city. Again: energy and neuropathy.

3. Enjoying a special wine dinner with friends at Indigo in San Francisco. The prix fixe menu looks good, and after 8:00 PM they host special food and wine pairings, with the selection of wines "freely poured". What could be more fun than our friends and good food and good wine? Unfortunately, having multiple large liver tumors and the burden of chemotherapy makes wine dinners a bit sketchy.

4. Tickets are now available for the City Arts and Lectures series. I could go see Billy Collins (a personal favorite and former U.S. Poet Laureate, who I've been lucky enough to see several times), or I could spend an Evening with Amy Sedaris, or I could see Karen Armstrong or Bernhard Schlink. Unfortunately, a hot, uncomfortable, theater on a weeknight just won't work for me anymore.

5. Taking another weekend intensive class at the Institute of Mosaic Art -- possibly something along the lines of lamp making with clear and opaque glass. I forgot about my numb, blistered, fingers.

I dunno...

Maybe it would be better to never forget my limitations. It's hard to awaken, again & again, to the perennial refrain of "that's a no-go, Miss Inspirational Pink". Even if I can do some things, I can't do most things... not in the way I'd like. And I likely won't do them at all.

Or I will. And then people will tell me what an inspiration I am. I had someone tell me once that I had more fun while having cancer than she had without cancer. I understood that what she said was true. I didn't consider it a compliment, though. As far as I'm concerned, she was still gloating.

On the up side: I don't feel good enough to be bored, and Eric is still a delight. (I've said that before, as well, and I'm not planning on stopping).

Math Soup

2007-10-18T18:35:00.000-07:00

"Campbell Soup Company is honored to do its part to help support breast cancer research and help educate women about early detection, diagnosis and treatment of breast cancer," said Chris Slager, Vice President, "Campbell's" Lighter Soups. "This disease affects the lives of so many women and families across the country, many of whom purchase and enjoy our soups, so we're proud to help raise awareness and make direct contributions to help find a cure."

The numbers:

3.5 Million: The number of traditional, red-and-white, cans of Chicken Noodle Soup and Tomato Soup the Campbell's sells to Krogers, a large grocery store chain.

7 million: The number of special, pink-ribbon cans of Chicken Noodle Soup and Tolmato Soup that Campbell's will ship to Kroger's for October.

300,000: The number of dollars Campbell's will donate to breast cancer charities (including 100,000 to the Susan B. Komen Foundation) from the sale of special pink ribbon soup.

Campbell's spokesman John Faulkner: "We certainly think there is the possibility of greater sales since our typical soup consumers are women and breast cancer is a cause they're concerned about."

1. a color varying from light crimson to pale reddish purple.

2007-10-17T20:58:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day:

If you like organization and you like pink and you like your purchases to make a difference, the Ampad Breast Cancer Awareness Filing Folder Kit may be just up your alley.This kit comes complete with 12 letter size pastel pink folders and 12 pastel pink hanging file folders for the on-line price of $15.30, plus shipping. A portion of all profits are donated to the support of breast cancer research and education.

There was a cute little girl at a school site today, jumping up & down to stay warm while waiting to step into the hearing van. I was there for a bit... making sure the PTA volunteers had what they needed... checking in with the agency that performs the hearing screenings.

The little girl asked me if I was a boy or a girl. "I can't tell", she said. She's not alone.

It was a busy, busy, day and there's another one tomorrow. And then on Friday there's chemotherapy. And then I start it all again.

Code Pink

2007-10-16T19:56:00.000-07:00

Just look for the pink ribbon on specially marked Quilted Northern Ultra® packages and look on the back for the unique code. For each code entered, Quilted Northern Ultra will donate 50 cents up to $500,000 annually to National Headquarters of Susan G. Komen for the Cure or local Affiliate of your choice.

For some reason, this promotion doesn't bother me as much as some of the others. I'm not sure why -- has October just worn me down?

At least they aren't asking us to mail in our rubbish, a la Yoplait.

In any case... there it is... another pink product for your perusal.

I'd rather see a pink toaster.

2007-10-15T12:08:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day: The Will to Live

"I want to die from eating too much chocolate.

I want to die from exhaustion from dancing the tango.

I want to die from laughing too hard on my 87th birthday.

I refuse to die from breast cancer."

So says Lynn Redgrave, in a chock-full-of-hope commericial, and bully for you, Lynn. If only I'd known that it was just a matter of will -- that if I'd dug in my heels and held my breath, my plain ol' pigheadness could have saved me.

You're an inspiration.

FYI

2007-10-15T09:46:00.001-07:00

Dear friend and all-around-interesting-person J. Abbingsole (nee Batesole) has started her own blog -- with a bit of encouragement from me -- and I've told her I would share the address with my three regular viewers.

Her picture-a-day blog can be found at :

http://blinkfortoday.blogspot.com/

Sunday

2007-10-14T23:36:00.001-07:00

Eric's mother was here this weekend -- a short, two-day, trip from Florida. I couldn't ask for a better mother-in-law. We are from very different worlds, but we share an undeniable love for her son. I love her son, and her son loves me -- and, honest-to-goodness, that was enough for her from the very beginning. Plus, I make her laugh. 'Nuff said.

She was planning on flying back to West Palm Beach tonight, but in the early evening she learned that her Uncle (the father of a beloved cousin) in Witchita, KS had died. So there was a flurry of phone calls and internet flight research, and just a a half hour ago we dropped her off for a flight to Kansas by way of Texas.

Having a house guest -- even an easy house guest -- doesn't make for a relaxing weekend. The work week ahead is promising to be especially hectic and fast-paced. After that things should slow down some.

What else...?

We went to the movies today. We saw "Across the Universe". Eh. Enjoyable enough.

It's always deeply good to spend time with Eric, but this weekend was particularly nice and warm and yum. In my world, Eric is sunshine. It's just how it is.

I mean, just look at him! Here we are in Mexico. I'm reflected in his shades. :)

Weighing In at $39.99

2007-10-12T19:34:00.000-07:00

The Taylor 5571P PrecisionTech Body Fat Analyzer Scale measures body fat and body water with 0.5-percent accuracy. Designed with pink and white accents that show support for fighting breast cancer, this scale is built with four memories to store the whole family's personal data.

Monitor your Risks -- Help Fund the Fight--Breast cancer touches almost everyone -- either with family, friends or co-workers. Help to fund the fight to find cures and treatments for this disease. With the purchase of this scale, Taylor Precision Products will donate $1 to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

How can you monitor your breast cancer risks at home? Increased body fat has been linked in studies to an increased risk of breast cancer. Using this Taylor Body Fat Scale will help you to monitor your overall body health.

It was a chemo day. Many hours in the blue plastic recliner. Not feeling so hot -- hoping to feel better tomorrow.

One More

2007-10-11T18:10:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day:

Remember to put on your gloves in the fight against breast cancer. Look for special pink Playtex Living Glove packages during October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Last year The Playtex Cares Tour, featuring the Playtex(R) Living(R) Gloves Van, completed a 26-city, 150-retail location journey providing consumers with information about breast cancer awareness and promoting the fact that beautiful, younger-looking hands start with Playtex Gloves.

PinkPinkPInk

2007-10-09T23:18:00.001-07:00

These Pink Ribbon Breast Cancer Awareness Lanyards aren't being sold for charity, but to charity -- they're great for fundraising! Perfect for keychains, carrying ID cards - anything! 6 different styles - Finda Cure, Pink ribbon and more. Each lanyard meaures approx. 36" long and 3/4" wide. Each lanyard has a hook on the end with a keyring attached. Order 12 and get the Card display.

I've actually made lanyards before and I'm still not sure what they are.

It's raining tonight. Another busy work day tomorrow, and Thursday -- then chemo on Friday. It's feeling like a grind. I'm wishing for summer.

Eric's mom is coming to visit this weekend. She'll only be with us two nights... a short trip, given that she's coming from Florida.

It's really coming down out there! Think I'd better go stand at the window and watch.

Not Kidding

2007-10-08T18:35:00.000-07:00

Master Lock, the industry leader in locks and security products, has always been committed to helping people achieve peace of mind by locking up their valuables. Now the company is also helping to unlock a cure for breast cancer by introducing a new pink padlock in support of The Breast Cancer Research Foundation®.

“With Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October, the pink padlock is a great way to raise awareness of breast cancer detection and prevention, as well as show support for continued breast cancer research. In fact, thanks to this much-needed research, the mortality rate from breast cancer has steadily decreased since 1990.”

In conjunction with the launch of its new pink padlock, Master Lock has made a $10,000 donation to The Breast Cancer Research Foundation. Master Lock Company L.L.C. is an operating unit of Fortune Brands, Inc., a leading consumer brands company with annual sales exceeding $8 billion.

A phrase that I've come across again & again in my pink-product research is a small bit of marketing genius: Shop for a cure!

It's clear that corporations are exploiting women with breast cancer. It doesn't even come as a surprise. It's just part of doing business.

Unfortunately, my personal experience with the disease makes me a bit sen-see-tive to the issue. I wish that I could just ignore it, like most reasonable folks. As for those who embrace it, and shop (and shop and shop) for a cure... well.... they're likely just scared. I think.

It will stop. Eventually there will be a consumer backlash or another disease du jour. All I know for sure is that there's not going to be a cure. Certainly not in my lifetime, and maybe not in yours. Although... who knows... in twenty years? Thirty? Maybe.

It's hard to say. In my youth I was promised a future with hover crafts and moving walkways. Those didn't materialize, and they're just a matter of engineering and urban planning.

Will October never end?

Quickly

2007-10-08T09:51:00.001-07:00

Thought you might be interested in the most recent Google searches that brought people to my blog. (I can see the search parameters that brought folks to me, but I can't see "who" they are.)

The most recent searches:

Wish it were Sunday that's my funday

clavicle pain

martha in the bible

clerotic foci

mondaymonday

cinnamon synonym

chemotherapy bald hurts

Pink Oreck

Oh Martha

his hair in curlers (This comes up fairly frequently and I wonder if it's a fetish thing?)

yakky hair

bald woman (In New Zealand I'm the #1 return for a search for "bald woman". Go figure.)

being a bald woman

Sayonara Weekend.

2007-10-08T00:20:00.001-07:00

I woke up around five in the morning on Sunday feeling sick, sick, sick. My head in a vice grip, my skin crawling...

I went to the guest room and the comfy recliner so as not to awaken Eric. I wanted him to be able to sleep, and I knew that I could not. And I didn't. Ten or eleven wakeful, not-well, hours passed before I moved again. I stood up sometime in the late afternoon to go lie down in bed. And then I stood up a while later to go to the couch. That was more-or-less my day.

Now it's Monday, technically, but I still have to sleep before work tomorrow (today). I'm supposed to be a "runner" tomorrow. That is to say: I'm supposed to spend about five hours ushering groups of Kindergarten and 2nd graders back and forth from their classrooms to the van where they will have their hearing checked.

I'm flabbergasted as the prospect of being a "runner".

I also don't relish the opportunity to show up at a school site looking green around the gills and bald. The Office Ladies at the schools usually just talk to me on the phone. They don't know I'm green around the gills and bald. But they will tomorrow.

It's okay. I have nothing to hide. I'll just recieve a few extra e-card notifications that I've been added to someone's prayer list.

Btw -- adding someone to your prayer list? Literally, the least you can do.

Off to bed.

Puckered

2007-10-06T20:55:00.000-07:00

Estee Lauder cautions: Have a passion for pink. It could save your life.

High Gloss in Pink Ribbon Pink, from The Pink Ribbon Collection. Enjoy the luscious supershine of this irresistible gloss in a special shade. Feel-good conditioners caress your lips-and you'll feel good about showing your support for Breast Cancer Awareness every time you wear it. What's not to love?

It was a quiet day. I feel sick and out of sorts. I sat up with Lisa last night, yakking until 2:00 AM or so. And then I slept, soundly, and awoke to find Lisa gone and the day well under way.

Since then I've traveled the well worn path from bed > couch > computer > bed.

Clicking through the tv channels I found pink ribbons galore. Shop for a cure and here's how to an attractive head scarf to obscure the stark ugliness of your bald head.

Well, they didn't say stark & ugly but ....

I suppose it wasn't implied, either.

I don't wear make up. I made a few attempts at it in my youth. It always seemed bizarre to me. The concept of "putting on your face" before leaving the house was like... hmmm... the bleeble urp of an alien creature to me. What?

I don't think Eric would have wanted to kiss me if I'd worn lipstick. Oh happy day, I did not!

What price hope? $85.00, plus tax.

2007-10-05T19:28:00.000-07:00

From Ralph Lauren: Making a statement in support of the Pink Pony Fund, our polo shirt features your choice of our signature Pink Pony or monogram embroidered in our special pink thread. Designed for a sexy, skinny fit in breathable cotton mesh, our polo shirt features all the traditional detailing, including a two-button placket, ribbed polo collar and armbands and an uneven vented hem. (Ten percent of proceeds from Pink Pony products benefit breast cancer organizations.)

I'm sooooo happy that it's Friday. Lisa is spending the night tonight, which is always fun. Beyond that it'll be a quiet, sleepy weekend. Mostly I just want to sit and hold Eric's hand, and I'm pretty sure that he can hook me up with that.

I do enjoy weekends.

I'm not sure how much longer I can continue with the pink products on parade. There's plenty o' material, but my point (such as it is) has likely been made.

I considered taping a pink bow to my head as a form of protest, but if I wouldn't subject babies or dogs to pink ribbons, why should I subject myself?

I wish we could get to Halloween already!

Choking on Hope

2007-10-04T20:01:00.000-07:00

Let the light of hope shine bright! Introducing Angel of Hope, an exclusive Thomas Kinkade breast cancer charity figurine from The Hamilton Collection that sends an uplifting message from above. Inspired by the illuminating artistry of The Painter of Light.

Beautifully handcrafted of fine artist's resin, this collectible Thomas Kinkade angel figurine raises her lantern as a symbol of the hope shining within our hearts. Wearing flowing robes hand-painted in a symbolic pink palette and wings accented with sparkling glitter, this elegant breast cancer charity figurine stands as a beacon that one day a cure will be found. Hurry, strong demand is expected for this limited edition.

Honestly, I'm speechless.

Tomorrow is a rare non-chemo Friday. I'll be at work, trying to unbury myself. I don't mind being busy, though. I like the distraction.

That's all!

Cleaning Up for a Cure

2007-10-03T21:41:00.000-07:00

"The Oreck vacuum was invented with women in mind. That's why I engineered it to be lightweight and powerful for effective cleaning and allergen control.

"Now to show our support for Susan G. Komen for the Cure in the fight against breast cancer, we're making a special model in pink," Oreck said.

October is national Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The pink Oreck XL(R)Ultra Hypo-Allergenic Plus Bagged Vacuum Cleaner helps Clean for the Cure. For every pink Oreck XL vacuum cleaner purchased, Oreck willdonate $50 to Susan G. Komen for the Cure. (Retail $549.95)

In the last year I've read more & more about the "pink backlash". It's the natural progression of things -- as natural as the progression of the disease that's currently infiltrating my bones and liver and lungs and lymph nodes.

I've read the blogs and essays of women with other cancers who have complained that their cancer isn't "sexy" like BC. I've heard the general grumbling of just-folks who are sick of the marketing, sick of the pink. Hear, hear. Agreed.

But, y'know, it kinda makes me mad on a different level, too. It makes me mad because somehow the bigness of these pink campaigns is belittling. Because I communicate with women every day whose lives are very difficult. They're sick and they're tired and they have children to raise and houses to clean and they're dying, and sometimes it's awful.

I've come home from work the last two days and slept, slept, slept. I've taken six hour naps after work. I'm exhausted and empty, and I've only completed one full cycle of chemotherapy.

Eric kisses my head and makes me grilled cheese sandwiches. That's the good part. (And it's very, very, good.)

Where's the miniature blue plastic recliner?

2007-10-02T22:47:00.000-07:00

Pink Product of the Day -- although I don't think I can stand to present one in each day of October:

Here's Pink Ribbon Barbie, in a frothy pink organza gown featuring a shirred design with tiers of ruffles. A sparkly, tulle stole and long pink gloves complete the stylish ensemble!

As far as I know, she's as anatomically correct as ever. No mastectomies, to my knowledge.

Mattel will donate $2.50 for each doll sold ($25.00 retail).

It was a challenging day at work. I was truly busy, and feeling a bit resentful at the quality and quantity of projects I've inherited. It was unusual for me. I lost perspective, for sure. I will have to consciously change that, because life is too short (and life is really too short).

In these days of new baldness, I appreciate the folks who meet my eyes with a spark of recognition. They don't say anything. They don't offer advice, or horror stories, or inspirational stories. There are no hallway hugs. They just give me a small nod and an smile. It's a human, pleasant, connection.

I had an appointment with my oncologist yesterday. It went well enough. We're waiting and seeing. That's all.

Over With

2007-10-01T22:07:00.000-07:00

I broke out my box of hats today. I dislike hats. I think they look nice enough on people with hair, but... oh well. It doesn't matter.

I was a little sniffley this morning before I left the house, but I was dry eyed and smiling when I walked through the door at work. It was sincere enough. For the most part I don't mind being bald. The trouble is dealing with the reactions of those with whom I am nominally acquainted. The outpouring of grief, sympathy, and inappropriate humor! Oy vey.

Among my favorite comments today:

You don't look that bad.

I don't want to do a happy dance, either. I won't act joyful about losing my hair. I won't do that to the bald women who will follow me.

BUT, when those near strangers talk about me after I leave the room -- and they will -- I'd rather they talk about my courage and good humor. It's just easier that way.

I never used to know what people meant when they would praise my courage. I've heard about my courage quite a bit, and I've wondered what the alternative to being courageous would be.

I've come to understand that when folks talk about my bravery that they are really saying: "Thank you for not burdening me with your fear, because I'm afraid of getting cancer myself."

They want to know if I have a family history of breast cancer. They want to know if I smoke, and if I eat meat, and if I cut soy or added soy to my diet. They tell me about the latest news in breast cancer .... that alcohol consumption increases risk.

They want to believe that their healthy mothers and grandmothers can save them, but their genetics can't save them. Their diets can't save them, and their exercise can't save them. Even their 3 day walks can't save them and in their heart-of-hearts they know it.

The mutations and permutations and factor upon factor upon factor that makes up this disease -- these diseases, really -- are so complex! It's not random, but it's bigger than our ability to understand, predict, prevent, and cure.

So -- breast cancer will be a satellite that continues to fall from the sky. And healthy people will continue to be afraid. And I'll continue to do my best to have a good time. And I won't burden them with my fear.

And they are welcome. Honestly.

October is the Cruelest Month

2007-09-30T17:02:00.000-07:00

A reasonable alternative to the omnipresent pink ribbon. Why not put this on your sassy scarves and cotton candy colored stand mixers?

It's Breast Cancer Awareness month, complete with beribboned water bottles, lipsticks, vacuum cleaners, ankle socks, cupcakes, underwear, teapots and cell phone accessories.

I've already talked about it. You know how I feel. My post from last year pretty much says it all.

MegaYak

2007-09-29T03:32:00.001-07:00

The jury's still out on whether or not the chemotherapy's working, but the Decadron is as effective as ever! It's 3:30 in the morning and I'm wide awake.

Chemotherapy today went smoothly. NurseLisa is among my favorites -- clearly, as she's allowed a real name, unlike UnsolicitedAdviceNurse and FrogNurse and NurseBubbles. Here's why we like NurseLisa:

1. She knows how to -- and does -- maintain a sterile environment on all occasions that call for a sterile environment. You'd be surprised by how often this doesn't happen.

2. She can find a vein. She doesn't always find a vein on the first try, but she finds one, and she does so with a confident manner. I occasionally call her The Vein Whisperer.

3. She makes Eric laugh.

So, I spent many hours in the blue plastic recliner, just a few feet from my darling Eric, and then I came home & played silly computer games and searched YouTube for music. We ate pizza. Eric went to his book club. That was that.

I think I already mentioned that Eric and I missed quite a few planned activities in September. Two plays, an evening of drinks w/ old friends, and a 3-day music festival come readily to mind. We missed a lot, and a lot happened.

For instance: I found myself unable to effectively walk. For the first time in my life (other than checking out of a hospital) I was wheeled about in a wheelchair, because the pain was simply too intense for me to walk. And then two weeks later I danced (for a few songs, anyway) at a Phil & Friends concert at the Greek.

The juxtaposition can make my head spin, as can the rift in the space time continuum which makes my work day so madly paced and most everything else so oddly slow.

My hair is everywhere. It had grown to 4 or so inches, but I cut it down to an inch today. I learned from my two past experiences with hair loss that the process of losing my hair is more difficult than actually living with the loss.

The process is upsetting. It's distinctly ouchy, and the falling hair goes everywhere, everywhere.... clogging the sinks and shower, clinging to shoulders and back, making it's scritchyscratchy way down my collar, into my coffee cup, aaaalll over the pillow and sheets.

It's clumped in corners and stuck to mirrors.

It's upsetting and embarrassing and omnipresent. If I touch my hair, it falls out. I've accidentally pulled out entire... I don't know what to call it .... locks of hair. With my hair so short, and so much more thin than it was in my bright-red-thick-haired youth, how can I possibly be producing so much distressing hair debris?

I need to shave it. And I would have, already, except I'm smarting from one person's insensitive comment.

I prepped a few folks at work about my impending baldness. There's a woman who sits next-ish to me, who's new this year -- thought it would be easier on both of us if she had advance warning. And there were a handful of others who I felt might need a little extra head's up to the hair off.

One of them -- Anger Management Nurse -- who, by the way, once told me that she knew I must be praying for a quick death (yes, and those were her exact words), listened to my story, and then told me (with a bit of a knowing smile) that my hair was quite adequate. She certainly couldn't tell that it was coming out, and she didn't think anyone else could tell either. And then she added something.... some bit of smirky something.... that indicated that my only reason to shave my head would be to draw attention to myself. She implied that I wanted the attention.

I think it's absurd for her uninformed commentary to impact my actions, but there you have it. I didn't strangle her or cry or look at her mean. I'm not going to hold a grudge and I'll shave my head soon. But for now, for whatever reason -- although I know it shouldn't -- her words have stuck in my craw.

I'll get over it soon. And then I'll just be a bald woman. The SF Bay Area is as fine a place as any to be a bald woman, and I'll handle the daily trickle of people at work who come to me with looks of horror or sadness or tears and offer me hugs & condolences & prayers & stories of miraculous recoveries or tortured deaths because they think my cancer has "come back".

I'll let the grocery store clerks and the new barristas at starbucks try to figure out if I'm a man or a middle aged lesbian, or a poster child for the Stop Smoking movement.

All of this fun awaits. And sleep, too. Sleep awaits me. Hopefully soon.

Just Stuff

2007-09-26T23:22:00.000-07:00

I wrote about my will, but I don't have that sort of control. I can't control this disease, and I can't control my nature, and I can't control my desires. In the end I think I'm just grateful that things aren't worse. That gratitude is genuine, and doesn't keep me from shaking an occasional angry fist at the sky.

My scalp hurts. You may not have had occasion to learn that it hurts to have your hair fall out from chemotherapy. It does. (If you've had occasion to learn this, I'm sorry.)

I missed an appointment with my oncologist today. I was tied up at work -- busy, busy, and I had planned poorly. I didn't mind missing the appointment. There's nothing for my oncologist to say. It's all about waiting and seeing.

Tomas da Silva dropped by this afternoon, bearing gifts -- a new novel to read and a fine stack of his exceptionally delicous shortbread. I love Mr. Silva's shortbread, and only share them grudgingly. I even limit my own consumption, trying to maintain a ready supply for morning coffee.

Tomorrow's another busy day at work, and then Friday I have chemotherapy.

That's all.

Toozday

2007-09-25T09:18:00.000-07:00

I enjoyed the concert on Sunday... enjoyed the opportunity to dance, even if it was just a little bit of dancing... and to be drawn, again & as always, into the collective consciousness that is created by that music, those people, that scene. It's a challenge to describe. It was good.

It was also a difficult weekend. The symptoms associated with chemotherapy seem to advance at a rapid pace. My fingers and toes are numb. My hair is coming out in clumps. My nose bleeds & bleeds & bleeds & bleeds. And I've only had two treatments. What will life be like after eight? Or ten?

And will the treatments "work" at all?

Honestly, I usually don't even conjecture that much. I just go through my days and focus on having as good a time as possible. Sadlysadly, I know many women who share this disease, and prognosis, and symptoms. I don't know any women in my position who have been able to maintain the quality of life I've maintained. So far. Knock wood.

I am very, very, fortunate in that -- it's good fortune, and an amazing, wonderful, handsome, smart, funny, husband, and it's also my will. It's what I've chosen to do, for both myself and my adorable husband.

I'm just rambling now.

I should really get back to work and try to write about this stuff later.

Maybe. We'll see.

Halloween, Easter... Candy Holidays Are Good, Too

2007-09-22T11:16:00.000-07:00

It's Yom Kippur and there are four Yahrzeit candles burning in our home -- one for my father, my mother, my brother, and Eric's father. The candles burn for 24 hours while we're supposed to be fasting and atoning for our sins.

I've fasted with Eric before, but not this year. And, frankly, I've never known Eric to do anything that required atonement.

I prefer holidays with pretty decorations and good food. Still, the candles are nice. It's good to be home, it's good that it's the weekend.

I stayed home from work yesterday although I really could have (perhaps should have) gone. I felt more or less okay, but decided to stay home and make Eric a nice pre-fast dinner instead of going to work.

It required all of my energy. I'm just not that spry. But I made a nice, traditional, Arroz con Pollo (which was started by rendering the fat from chorizo to use for the sofrito). And I made a yummy, buttery, brown sugarish, cream cheesey pastry thing for dessert.

He was happy, and I was happy and our friend, who's in town for the Phil show tomorrow, was happy.

Today I'm tired and taking it slow.