Christmas and I am bitchy.

The day has arrived. My parents, my brother and his wife, and my nephew and his girlfriend are all coming over at 3ish for the taste bonanza. I am making my shrimp thing that has sauted tomatoes, onions, garlic, red pepper flakes and giant shrimp. Eaten with crusty bread it is a serious flavor buzz. I am also making cheese fondue and assorted dips. I am also having mousse truffle pate. Everyone is bringing their favorite food buzz. Or is supposed to be. My brother informed me yesterday he is making curry......antelope curry. Although it sounds like spiced gristle, it will probably be delicious-he is a very good cook. Which is fortunate since his wife prides herself on the fact that she doesn't cook. This is tatamount to saying "I don't read" as far as I can see. You read the directions, and follow them. Big whoop.

I woke up this morning to 6 inches of snow and it is still coming down. It is a blizzard and the weathermen will probably name it. My nephew called me and informed me that he is bringing a tomato salad. And that is it. A caprese salad, wow, genius. He also told me that he didn't get home until 5 am (he is a bartender) and made $700 last night. Could he not put that towards a better dish? There is only 10 years difference in our ages and since his mother, my sister, passed away 4 years ago, I am his chief nagger.

I had the wild urge to sing Carols this year and that means going to a church. I was raised Episcopal, baptised and confirmed and have taken communion about twice since then. I have my own religion of just try and be a good person. I just can't get behind the Jesus thing. I believe he existed as a person but the rest just doesn't work for me, hence my getting kicked out of Sunday school 8 times for arguing with my teachers. "Ok, I get the Father and the Son but who is the Holy Ghost?" "Where do the dinosaurs come in?" I was prepard to enter the solemn cathedral of Saint John's and suck it up just to belt out some songs. I love the atmosphere and it kind of makes me cry. But as soon as the priest starts talking, I tune out. Luckily, a friend phoned last night and said she is singing with a choir this year and that they were singing at 6:30 pm for 1 hour at The Church Of Scientific Thought. She said it is a mix of all religions and there is no dogma, you can pray to the light if you want. Sounded good. The first speaker gave me the indication that this church was actually The Church of Women Who Used to be Men. I think I went to a transvestitie church. It was excellent people watching. They turned out all the lights and we lit candles and all held them up and they lit the church. And then we sang. It was cool and I was home by 8:00.

They spoke about how whatever God is, it is within you. I couldn't stop thinking: This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine. So I called my other sister , that I rarely speak with for a million reasons, and wished her Merry Christmas and that I wished she were here with us. I am going to be Buddhist ish no matter how hard it is, Forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness.

Now it itime for Harry Belafonte, Vince Gauraldi, and Billie Holiday. Merry Merry.

Frenzy

It is the Friday before Xmas and the city is FLIPPING out. I just drove past the local mall, Cherry Creek, and there was a line of cars 8 BLOCKS LONG!!!! This is just to enter into the area around the Whole Foods and little boutiques. The day started at a balmy 45 degrees and has dropped down to the 20's and it is snowing....Hard. I am going out at 10 pm to do the grocery shopping because I can't climb into the belly of the beast. I am buying it all tonight and then I am finished. Almost.

My insomnia knows no bounds and I was up until 4:30 last night. I went back to the free bootlleg movie site and watched Lions for Lambs. Tom Cruise just weirds me out. And then I found it.....my childhood revisited......Bugsy Malone. The entire thing Online. And to think the guy who directed it also directed Midnight Express. Scott Baio peaked at 13. The Chachi thing was mortifying and age has not improved his personality. In the early 90's , when I was starting out in film production, I worked on "The Happy Days Reunion" . Henry Winkler= sweet as pie, Scott Baio= mean little macho freak. The Executive Producer was a drug addict and completely insane and our office was over The Cat and the Fiddle on Sunset Blvd. Memories.......I am all over the place due to my lack of sleep so I will cut myself off.

Xmas stress

It happens every year. I have the greatest of intentions when it comes to Xmas and as soon as I see the cheesy decorations up in the stores....the paralysis sets in. All good ideas for presents evacuate and I am left with gift card purchasing. I used to Craft out, and I am not talking about crocheted chatchkes but groovy things like spices I brought back from India and packaged in hip little containers and embroidered things. I can barely summon up the energy to open cards let alone send them out. It is getting worse every year and I am sure there is some deep psychological reason for it but I don't feel like soul-mining presently so I am just avoiding it all. I have turned down 3 party invitations. A couple nice meals with the family and I am ready to move on to 2008.

The small amount of soul mining I have done has given me a little insomnia lately and I have ended up on some strange web sites in the middle of the night. Did you know that the Dalai Lama has a My Space page? And it's really good. And I also ended up on a "FREE" movie site. They had "No Country For Old Men" and it was free. HOWEVER, it was a copy of the film that was taped by some guy who went to an early screening and snuck in a video camera. The screen goes dark a couple times and he actually says "Down in front". You can hear people eating popcorn and taking off their jackets. It's pretty funny. I watched part of "The Secret" in Hebrew with English subtitles. Here's a secret: it may be a life philosophy but it is a bad movie.

So in further avoidance of all things Holiday, and indulging one of my favorite things to do, I went to a matinee today. Elizabeth, the Golden Age. The heater was broken and it was like watching it in someone's garage. To get even with the Heat Miser, I stuck around and slipped into another movie, "The Kingdom". It was escapism, if nothing else. Except that there was something else. There were only about 4 of us in the entire theater and the guy sitting 4 seats away was getting twitchy. He started speaking out loud and was mildly annoying. The movie is about Saudi Arabia and murder. This guy clearly had some issues with the Muslim world or the Armed Forces or something. He got more and more agitated and then gave me a looooooooooooong stare that scared the Hell out of me. I would have left but he was blocking my aisle and I was afraid he would stab me or something. Never sneak into the second movie, this was my lesson. Even though I almost got shivved in a bad movie, it was better than going to Mall at Christmas.

A vent of sorts

When I was newly diagnosed, I heard about a young survivor group---which is very unusual for Breast Cancer and I was in dire need, (see early posts). The girls were fantastic, smart, and advocacy minded. There was also a twice monthly meeting in a room at a local hospital that was guided by a nurse. The other meetings were monthly and consisted of going to a girl's house, drinking a glass of wine, having a little nibble, and discussing issues about BC. The gal who started it is feisty adn SMART and young. She was a real beacon for me, she had navigated the world of cancer uninsured and was on her way to being an advocate (politically correct term for Activist). Young Empowered Survivors-YES was growing and soon she realized it was time to pass the torch so she could get on with tackling the big issues.

Sadly, a year and a half later it has become a twisted form of the Junior League, with censorship and pink ribbons all over the place. Once again proving that: It's not the WHAT, it's the WHO.

Last week, I attended the Colorado Cancer Coalition's yearly conference. We were trying t get everyone on board about the Bill we got passed last year to put a check-off program on the Income tax form for :
The Colorado Breast and Women's Reproductive Cancers Fund. We passed around big cowboy boots to try and get people to donate "Kick-off for the Check-off". We earned $300, which will help with basics, such as making copies, etc...Talk about grassroots, there are about 4 of us trying to make it all fly.

I can't believe that I live in a society that spends the same amount on TWO WEEKS in Iraq fighting as it does for the entire YEAR for cancer reseach.
Shame on you, George Bush.

I realize this is disjointed, but if I have to read my own writing more than once, forget it.

Question Authority

Last week, I attended an award ceremony at the Governor's mansion. The awards were from the Colorado Lawmakers Association and were being given to 3 State Representatives for their work on Health Bills. I belong to a Breast cancer Task Force which joined up with the Ovarian cancer coalition to pass a Bill to put a Check-Off program on the Income Tax form to fund education, screenign and treatment for un and under-insured women in rural areas.

Anywhooooo, I ran into my district Representative and thanked her for her help as she sat on a committee we testified in front of. She was not receiving an award but made sure to tell me, "Well, I sponsored the Breast Cancer license plate." I think she expected me to gush or thank her for the stupidest piece of legislation ever put forth. I acted super naive and said " Oh, does that give funds to breast cancer programs in the state?" She quickly backtracked, " Well...no ....but the parameters were already set when the Bill was brought to me. And people can donate money when they buy the licence plate."
I asked excitedly, as if I didn't know the answer, " And have you tracked how much money has been donated through the plates?"

"No" and off she went, VERY quickly.

All I could think was GREAT, it helps no one, but makes the average joe feel like they are doing something to help end breast cancer. Pink ribbon stupidity, AAAARGH.

New Careers....

I am always fascinated by what people do for a living. OK, not the money market manager type but the ones who have found their passion or at least do something weird.
I have had several different incarnations on the job scene: English teacher in Japan, working for a clothing designer, silversmith/jeweler, Production Coordinator on BAD B movies in LA, I sold advertising for a newspaper and then for a National magazine, upholsterer, Internet marketing advisor........blah blah blah. I love learning new things and would absolutely go into a medical field except that I gag at the sight or smell of anything remotely gross.

Years ago, I had myself convinced that I would use a pseudonym and write Harlequin novels. No one would know, and it would supplement my income. They have very specific formulas for every genre of book that they publish.
www.eharlequin.com/articlepage.html?articleId=539&chapter=0

The only problem that I can see is that I can't even make myself blog with any regularity----how the Hell can I write a book?

Guilt induced Blogging

All right, Senor Don gato, I will rise to the challenge. It is supposedly National Blogging month or some such tripe and it is the month to actually post something. Don't expect much as I find it difficult to write unless I am in a tizzy about something. So to take up some space, here is a little pic. A friend of mine swears all girls should pouf up their hair on top for volume-not mall hair, but a little oomph-so this is for Margot.



I told you it was going to be boring.

I Take it Back.......

Ok, my last smug mountain loving entry has back-fired. The house where I am staying is literally on top of a mountain and is only accessible via an electric gate which keeps out the riff-raff from the 3 houses up here. I feel like Yertle the turtle. It has been snowing like nobodys business and one of the other neighbors or some other dork did not negotiate the ice and slammed into the gate and broke it. I am stuck. My Winter paradise has me stir-crazy. I also didn't have time to get to the store before the gate smash. The photo is a rough display of my food options. Did I mention my friend is Swedish? The photo is backwards for some reason but it makes no difference translation-wise, trust me. If the gate isn't fixed by tomorrow, I am hiking out and having a friend pick me up about 4 miles down the road.

BRRRRRR

I am happily ensconced in the mountains. I came up about a week ago and had a great week despite the sad reason for visiting. A good friend is going out of town and needs someone to house-sit for a week.......hey, why not. A mini-storm hit and here is the result.


There were 4 cars on the side of the back road I took, each getting yanked out by tow trucks. I am hard-wired for the mountains and really miss it. Cruising around town, running into people, doing a days worth of errands in 20 minutes, dogs everywhere, amazing hiking right outside the door, The urban mystique wears thin.

Ok, I did fall on my ass as I took the photo with my computer because I don't have a camera and was wearing crappy shoes for actual snow, but this is a small price to pay as long as my computer doesn't blow up from the impact.

My Blog is Just Gross

I admit to indulging every gross thought I have on this but it must be understood that I am not like this in "everyday life". This is my purge. That said......my phantom gall bladder has come back to haunt me. Last night at 2:30 am, POW! I sat up and had the EXACT same pain as my gall stone episode. But I don't have a gall bladder anymore. Is it like the ghost of Christmas past, warning me of the cheeses I should avoid and what my life would be like as a pate and triple creme Brie lover? Beats me. All I ate yesterday was cereal-Kashi if you must know, and later I had some hummus with RyKrisp. Seriously, must I become a Breatharian?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inedia

The whole Breatharian thing was a big joke for us in college, as a friend of mine interviewed a local who claimed membership and SWEARS he stole a breath mint on he way out of the restaurant. Plus, I like food.

Daily Breast Cancer rant:

Attended my Breast Cancer Task Force meeting where a chart was shown that stated the Susan G Komen For The Cure gives a whopping 5% of their annual take to actual research. So for all those women who think that the completely dork-ass pink ribbon is going to change anything.......think again. I find it offensive and almost criminal that they portray themselves as trying to find a Cure.

Perhaps they are responsible for the elevation of bile that is causing my attacks..........

What is Buddhism's Second Lesson?

In Mid September, I attended the memorial of a an amazing young woman named Ann Seeber who died of breast cancer. She taught the "challenged kids" in the Denver Public School system. She was an avid outdoor lover, always active biking, skiing, hiking and enjoying the beauty of Colorado. She had traveled extensively and had a serious passion for trekking in New Zealand. She was raised by somewhat Bohemian parents who live off the grid in Mexico part of the year. She had this amazing ability of being able to detect what was the unusual interesting quality in anyone she met, and made you feel as if she really "got" you and appreciated you. She fully embraced life and there is a vacuum of energy left behind. She was 36 years old.


I wrote before about my friend and co-worker that passed away from cancer.

Here is the lovely column written about her by my favorite local writer:


The performers at the Crystal Palace used to sing a haunting death song. Of all of us in the audience, so many would die of heart attacks, so many would be felled by cancer, another number would be killed in accidents, a few would be murdered, on and on until none in the room were left.

That's how we're feeling in our small advertising department of The Aspen Times, with two of us taken within the space of a year: Andre Bonhote of AIDS/ pneumonia and Christine Maggi, on Thursday, of cancer.

Andre already had left the Times to seek new vistas as a hotelier in Scottsdale, Ariz., got sick suddenly and perished, but Christine started dying right before our eyes last fall.

She was having a hard time swallowing, she said as she grew thinner and thinner. "Go to your doctor," we begged her, but she was seeing a homeopath who told her she had "parasites," even told her the exact date in the late '90s that the parasites entered her body, and treated her with potions to kill the intruders.

Christine was always into soothsayers, had a box of fortune-telling pebbles on her desk, threw the I-Ching pennies to foretell her future. I don't know if she would have survived if she had had the endoscopy earlier, which diagnosed advanced esophageal cancer, but the prognostications of those in whom she put her faith were dead wrong.

In February, she moved to her brother's house in Dobbs Ferry, N.Y., while being treated at Sloan-Kettering, and soon after that we had to tell her that her dear buddy Andre had died. Christine herself went into the hell of chemo and complications as the cancer marched relentlessly through her body.

Friends and family members stayed in touch with the latest heartbreaking reports. Stomach, ovaries, pneumonia, water retention, hospice.

"I'm trying to check out," she told her sister, "but it just isn't happening."

A few days before she died, her brother Jerry e-mailed, "The other day, I was talking to her and she clenched her teeth, made a fist and it looked like she wanted to punch the bed. She dropped her fist and whispered to me, 'Every time I wake up, I'm still here.'"

Christ, she was only 38.

And she was so healthy, so strong, beautiful and robust ("Thunder thighs," she would say, disgusted). She took long hikes in the mountains and rode her bike to the Times for the past nine years in all weather, always running a little late, arriving rushed and rosy-cheeked with her long, dark curly hair still damp from her morning shampoo.

Often on the verge of debt, she'd give you her last dime if you needed it. When I got out of the hospital with lung problems, she gave me her expensive treadmill, brushing off any idea of payment saying she never used it. She loved giving, to the point where we had to be careful not to even hint at needing anything.

Christine was a gentle lady with a soft voice and a sweet smile, but she was tough and she was stubborn. She'd ask advice from anyone but, after a lot of deliberation, take it from none, hoeing her own row.

I miss her laugh. She had a laugh like silver bells.

It seems impossible that she is gone.

Su Lum is a longtime local who knows that life (and death) isn't fair. Her column appears Wednesdays in The Aspen Times.


Her memorial is this weekend and we are climbing a local mountain and then having a giant spaghetti dinner all together.


So here is the deal: I get it......life is suffering. It is Buddhism's first truth. I promise I get it, I am ready for lesson #2.



Ann is the gal at the LIVESTRONG celebration and Christine is one with the lovely long brown hair.

Unmitigated Gall

I am quite out spoken on certain issues and speak my mind freely-maybe too freely on occasion-but after tomorrow I will no longer have the gall that I have enjoyed.
I went to the Dr. and the surgeon today who agreed that the gall bladder is being evicted. The date they gave me was October 4th. I hate waiting and especially for something I just want to get over. The surgeon then mentioned that there was a cancellation earlier......tomorrow. Like a gal who can't take her hair cut one more day and must get into the salon...I am losing my gall bladder tomorrow. No time to stew, no time to type up an Ebay description and see what I could get for it, just show up and wave it bye bye. I have had more than my share of surgeries in the past few years and am not worried in the slightest. I am, however, hoping it weighs 10 pounds.

October is marketing Mecca

Warnng: Cancer rant

It's just around the corner, that month where every object turns pink and "a portion goes for breast cancer research". Oh, really? What portion? What Organization? What does that organization represent and what are their policies? What pieces of legislation do they support? How much of the money goes to overhead for that organization? Does that organization support equal access to quality health care for all? OR does the money go to Susan G Komen? Nancy Brinker (founder of Susan G Komen) is a Republican who was given the ambassadorship to Hungary after tossing baby Bush some Texas cash. Her hubby owns Chili's and other Brinker's establishments. (Can you say sub-par meat?) Komen takes money from corporate sponsors who are responsible for polluting the environment which causes cancer. Komen says they are for "The Cure" but they do not support environmental research. By environmental research, I mean ANYTHING that is not genetic. And 85% of breast cancers diagnosed are NOT genetic-they ARE environmental.

Wrapping it in a pink ribbon does not change the truth.

Race for the Cure, my ass.

Square Peg

Two and a half years ago, I was deep in the middle of treatment. I had lost my hair for the second time in a year, had gained 25 pounds (talk about adding insult to an injury!) , felt weak, and just GROSS frankly. I decided it was time to do something, anything to take back what was mine. I lived for many years in a great mountain town, working for the newspaper, and working with a great bunch of misfits, freaks, and geniuses. Every year there is a Race For the Cure in the little town and I went up to participate along with my best friend, her little girl and about 10 friends who still live there. The day before the Race, I walked around town visiting some old friends and went to pick up my race shirt and numbers. I picked up the shirt and my heart just SANK. It was the ugliest, most depressing Tshirt I have ever seen. Like cancer is not bad enough, I am going to have to wear this piece of crap. It was super ugly pink and had these creepy funereal doves with the saying "on the wings of a dove..." or some such dreck. I was talking to a local gal who is also a Survivor (and whose husband cheated on her while she went through treatment-can you BELEIVE that?! ) and she agreed they were UGLY. She wanted to wear one that said "f*ck cancer and f*ck Scott too". I really wished we could have had some made but the organizers would probably not dig it.

I managed to get a local guy to airbrush a tshirt for me that says CANCER SUCKS and on the back it says cckma- which he said means either "cancer can't kick my ass" or "cancer can kiss my ass" . Either one was fine with me.
The morning of the race was beatiful and all my gals showed up in fine form. The majority of those I passed high fived me on the Tshirt. It's true, cancer does suck.

It was a 5k which is nothing unless you have had 12 rounds of chemo. The after-ceremony was bizarre and I felt like I was being initiated into a cult. They had all the survivors stand on a stage in front of everyone and wave these pink roses. All the Survivors knew the words to some song they were singing and started swaying. For anyone who knows me-this is my idea of a nightmare. I was laughing /crying. My friends were split-"Is she overwhelmed by the emotion?" My best friend was laughing hysterically and told them " No- she is freaking out, someone go get her" This may seem crass but I think it is just as crass to dress up the leading cancer killer of women in pink and act like it is a creepy sorority.

I went back to my place and slept for 10 hours.


The reason I am dredging all this back up is that my friend , # 761 in the pic, is on her last journey from this world right now. She was diagnosed with esophageal cancer last February and is 35 years old. Cancer is a horrible disease.

Friday night at the ER

I have been trying to take a vacation from cancer and see how it fares........apparantly this is a foolish notion as I lost a very good friend and another girl who was a cancer acquaintance-both young and it is still too painful to talk about. So instead, I will tell the tale of the 80 year old woman who has possessed me and is giving me all her creepy old lady diseases. I should have known sooner, I had pleurisy at the age of 10 when I got home from 2 weeks at freezing wet camp. Then I had gastroenteritis at 20! I mean, who even knows what these conditions ARE at that age?

Friday night, I am hunkered down, watching On Demand at my house sitting gig. My upper back starts aching as does my upper abdomen. I swam fairly hard that day so I thought maybe I tweaked my back and took a hot bath but it still was hurting and felt worse. I was having this dilemma of "Does this really hurt or am I being a wuss? Is it getting worse or am I imagining it? Should I go to the Dr or just try and go to sleep?" I could not get comfortable and decided to stretch out my back which did NOT help. I soon began thinking I should just go to the ER because I could sleep if I couldn't lie down. I made a couple calls and couldn't get any family or friends on the phone so I drove myself. It started REALLY hurting and I ended up going through red lights like a mad woman. I get to the ER, they get me right in, thankfully. Getting an IV in was a nightmare, as usual, but the pain medication helped for a while. I had lidocaine-GROSS beyond imagination, x rays, a CT scan, and they couldn't find anything. Around noon the next day, they gave me a sonogram and decided I have gallstones. Gallstones?! I am officially 80 years old. I am in a holding pattern until next week to see if the gall bladder goes. Whatever.

The good news is: It is NOT cancer!!!!!! I was so happy to have those scans to let me know that NO, cancer is NOT everywhere in my liver. And after a little investigation, I have learned that there is actually a market for human gallstones somewhere in Asia and I am not above an Ebay auction. The mind reels with the possibilities.

Ignoring Cancer Doesn't Really Work

After avoiding the subject of cancer for a good month or so, I was hoping to really not think about it but sadly, it is impossible. I attended the funeral of a young, sweet, amazing, 34 year old mother of two this week who was diagnosed with breast cancer 2 years ago. She was a marathon runner, a nurse, a wife, a sister, a daughter and she lost her battle.

I got so angry at the priest saying "This should be a day of celebration-she has gone to be with her Holy Father" , Yeah-he's pushing 65 and has no kids. I promise you her kids are not celebrating, you insensitive ass. He had never met her yet felt he could say these things. Ugh.

I attended the funeral with a few other young survivors, a couple who are Stage IV and it shook them to their core, I am sure.


I am glad you are out of pain, Christina and I hope your wonderful spirit lives on in your children.

Cancer sucks.

Cancered Out

I just spent 10 hours at yet another BC event. I sat at a booth and heard about and talked about cancer all day. I went to Washington DC for 5 days of advocacy training and lobbying 2 weeks ago. I have committed to organizing a big rally/vigil for cancer survivors on the capitol steps this week. And I have to speak at another cancer thing in 2 weeks. I am fried and sick of cancer.
Without meaning to, I have become involved in at least 6 different organizations. And I mean involved. I think initially I wanted to check out all the different ones and find the right fit for me. But then I would meet the people involved and feel compelled to help out. There is just so much to be done, but why do I think I have to do it all?

Or maybe it is the fact that by being the volunteering maniac, I feel like I am stopping the cancer that I am sure is nipping at my heels and waiting for me to make one wrong step. This way when it comes raging back into my life, I will have all my resources in place. I am waiting for the other shoe to drop and I know it is not rational. But there is a large part of me that would not be able to take the trap door opening again and swallowing me-so it is a preemptive strike against the shock and I will be able to say "AHA!! I knew it!" I know it is nuts and I keep telling myself to start saying No to things and then I hear the words coming out.."You know what would be great is ......" and I am off on another. It's like serial dating, which I have never understood anyway, and I am ready for my big commitment-the NBCC. Oh, I am sure there will be flings along the way but if they are truly just flings, no one will get hurt-especially me.

Why I Got Cancer

I think that every person that has ever been diagnosed has their pet theory or theories as to why they got cancer. Here are just a few of mine:

-My father worked for NASA when I was born and we had to live in Houston.Yes, had to. There were huge mosquito infestations and they were afraid of malaria so they quarantined us and brought in the Foggers. We thought these were the coolest things EVER. My sisters and brother and I would follow it around on our bikes, or trike in my case, and pretend we were in a cloud. My mother has nightmares about this.

-I love swimming and have been in more over-chlorinated pools than I care to think about. I lived at our swim club all Summer long from about the age of 6 upwards. Or was it the zinc oxide?

-In Texas, it was considered normal to get your house fumigated for cockroaches on a regular basis. I didn't walk until I was over 2 years old so I was wallowing in it.

-Back in Colorado, there was a huge power line at the end of our block and I used to tell my mom that if anything ever happened to me-that was what did it. I could hear it humming and it looked sinister. I was 9.

-There was a company called Redfield Scope that was smack dab in the middle of a neighborhood and they made scopes for rifles. The problem with this is that they cleaned the grease off them with highly toxic material and then DUMPED IT ON SITE. It worked its way into the ground water and started seeping through the 'hood. The Brown Group Retail owned Redfield and hid this fact. There was a class action lawsuit but to no avail. They said it was without merit. Real Estate prices dropped, 8 people on our block alone got cancer (so far) . Where is Erin Brokovich when you need her? Luckily, my parents moved shortly before it all came out and were able to sell. Not so lucky for the family that moved in however.

-When I was 25, I was out of college and I decided to take off and got a one way ticket to Bangkok. I had to get about 9 scary shots before going and was given a prescription for malaria pills. These were on par with hallucinogens. I took them for the first few months and had such insane dreams that I had a hard time figuring out what was truth and what was just a dream. My mouth had a perpetual metal taste. There is no way that can be good for you.

-The sub-par meat we ate-sorry mom, but gross.

Some theories are more plausible than others but I will really never know. I had someone I have known almost my entire life insinuate that people give themselves cancer. I cannot stress how insulting this is , and if it were true- couldn't I cure myself, too?

I returned last week from Washington DC where I lobbied with the NBCC to push for the Breast Cancer and Environmental Research Act. When the word environment is used, most people think smokestacks but it simply means any cause that is NOT genetic. 85% of women diagnosed with BC have no family history.
Until we know what causes breast cancer, there will be no cure-plain and simple.

I'm off my soap box and out to enjoy the beautiful Spring weather.

Why I attended a Support Group after mocking them

Graphic Cancer Chat Alert:

I suppose I should address the title of this blog, and in order to do so and not bore anyone to tears, I will give an abbreviated version. And I will get there eventually.
I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.
I had several surgeries.
I started chemotherapy, the first rounds being Adriamycin and Cytoxin. That's right-they boldly named it what it is, a TOXIN. This is commonly known among patients as "the red devil" or as I called it "Big Red". The nurses wore Haz mat suits and I just sat there in a haze of Ativan.

This went on for several months. When I finished my A/C, treatments, I felt like aliens had taken over my body. I was bloated from the steroids and had gained 25 pounds-Yes, yet another wonderful side effect. My chemo-port in my chest was just not happening and gave me such anxiety when it had to be Accessed that I went under to have it removed and another put in-when I woke up from the surgery, the Surgeon's first words were "It doesn't work-we think there is a kink in the tubing." Had I had the presence of mind, I would have said " Well fix it for fuck's sake." But I didn't, I just stared at them and wondered why it was all so messed up. My treatment was delayed until I could get a good port in and I had a reprieve for a few months.

I began exploring the BC Resouce Directory: More in detail later
Healing Hands- Reiki and energy work, signed up
Complementary and Alternative Therapies, signed up
Support Groups-SO not my scene, I hated sororities and would just cowboy up and get on with things.
Summit Exercise Program------just what I needed!

Summit held an orientation evening to explain the program. I attended and quickly noticed that everyone else had a family member or someone there with them. I always felt it would be a total drag for someone to have to go to the bajillion things I went to and went solo 95% of the time. The founder of the program, Karen Hornbostel, was a Master roadbiker and a 3 time BC Survivor. She was Stage IV and attributed her longevity at this Stage to exercise. She had been given a large Grant from the Lance Armstrong Foundation and was an award winner as their Survivor of the Year. She was funny, inspirational and I drank the Koolaid. Karen had us go around and give a brief intro and why we were there. When my turn came , I began speaking and then .....I truly lost my mind.
The last thing I remember saying is "I just feel so disgusting.." and began crying...no , sobbing. And I couldn't stop. And then it was as if I were having an out of body experience and was hovering over the room watching myself lose it. "Get a grip, what on earth are you doing?!" , I said to myself. This was SO entirely out of character for me that it scared me. Karen had to give me tissues and the crowd was very kind and comforting but I was so embarassed. The dam had broken and there was no stopping me. When it was over, I went and apologized to Karen saying that I had no idea what happened to me. She gave me a hug and said it wasn't so unusual . I got in the car to drive home and called a friend and I was laughing/crying at how crazy I had become. It was obvious that I needed a support group.

So I attended one and the women were about 20 to 30 years older than me and cried about how would they tell their Grandchildren. I selfishly thought "Jesus Christ, at least you got to have grandchildren." These were not my people.

I found YES! Young Empowered Survivors. Finally, I found women my age who could relate to all the freaky stuff that you just can't talk to your friends and family about:

"Oh my God, they actually stuck a wire through my boob and it was sticking out 2 inches and made my walk down the hall like Frankenstein and then... Get a mammagram ...with the wire sticking out of my chest!!!"
" Me too!"

I was home.

Pro vs. Con

There are upsides to cancer, believe it or not.
There is even humor, albeit gallowish. Halloween offered me a chance to be the best Mr. Clean EVER and I could do a mid-evening switch to Sinead O'Connor.
Showers took about 5 minutes without any hair.
And best of all, no having to think up little white lies for things I want to get out of :

"Nope, sorry, I can't pick you up at the airport (which is practically in Kansas) , I have cancer"
"Super sorry I can't make it to your 4th g-damned baby shower, I have cancer"
"What?! Pass the salt?! I have cancer, for God's sake, get it yourself!"

And then there was the visit to the Psychic Expo when I was first diagnosed to see if I could flush out the charlatans. But upon arrival, I got a little weirded out by the karmic repercussions and couldn't go through with it.

There was the crystal clear view of what I think is important in life-which of course has been tempered with the passage of time and the harsh reality of financial burdens. I was a kinder, gentler person for while- or just completely exhausted and on really good narcotics.

There are the truly amazing people I met who were on the same awful journey. Thank God, Buddha, Yahweh, whatever is right, for them.

The downside, other than facing one's own mortality and the utter Hell that is chemotherapy, is the sadness and pain it caused my family, friends and loved ones. And for that reason, I will not
be cluing them into my little blog. They have been through enough and want to believe that I am fine and all is well. They should have that.

Being the source of their sadness was an added burden and I ended up worrying about them worrying about me. The day I was to go in to discuss my biopsy, my oldest friend came with me. When the Dr. told me I had cancer, I told her she had to call my Mother. You see, my oldest sister had passed away 2 years prior of cancer and I simply could not be the person who broke her heart again.
Cancer totally sucks.

To Blog or Not to Blog

WARNING: GRAPHIC DISCUSSION OF UNCOMFORTABLE SUBJECT.....CANCER

I am attempting to exorcise the demons that have haunted me since being diagnosed with Breast Cancer two and a half years ago. Why not just keep a Diary and spare you the gross details, you may ask. Because I just won't do it.....this format may create that extra guilty feeling that is the only remedy to my procrastination. And the subject has been taboo for far too long. 1 in 3 will get cancer. Yep, that's right. When it comes to Breast Cancer, or BC as I will now refer to it, the statistics are 1 in 8 and moving closer to 1 in 7. I joke with my friends that I took the bullet and that they owe me BIG time. This may relieve them but I know better.

The one question that everyone asks when they hear ( and I am sure you are wondering, too) is " Are you OK? Did they get it all?" or in truer terms....."Are you going to die from it?" I am what is called NED or No Evidence of Disease. This nebulous designation is cold comfort. There is no visible cancer and after undergoing 19 months of chemo and radiation, I live with the fear of recurrence. Not in a pervasive, all day long, woe is me way but more like middle of the night, planning my funeral, freaky way that usually dissipates with the rising sun.

This blog is a way to get it out of my head, on to the page, and stop the spinning thoughts in my head, and forge some new neural pathways in the gray matter. The theory needs to be tested. I recently read a piece about people with rage problems and they almost all said that they need to let out the rage, that it is healthier than keeping it inside. Considering the source, these are the folks tailgaiting, screaming obscenities, flipping you off....it is obviously not working. The professional opinion is that it is much wiser to figure out a way to calm down quickly, deep breathing, whatever, than to escalate into freak mode.

Confession: I lived in Venice, CA for a few years and had to commute into Hollywood for work everyday in my old Volvo "the Golden Gouda" and would attempt to shave minutes off my driving time . My friend Hans joined me one day for the drive and was visibly horrified at my behavior and told me he was going to put a camera in the car so I could see what I looked like ---Crazy. I had driven alone for too long.

So this blog will either feed the neuroses or squelch it.