My Life in Pictures.....

 



I've always been a movie buff...a film aficionado. I'm forever happy to sit in a darkened room full of strangers and be told a story in pictures and sounds. Over the years, some of those stories have stayed with me, echoing and foreshadowing my own experiences, almost like a Roberta Flack refrain of "strumming my life with his fingers, singing my life with his words."

 

I'm forever amazed at the commonality of emotion that shows up on the silver screen. I'm not saying that I've ever been in prison (as far as most of you know), or hid from the Nazi's (at least until this administration) or battled my father with a light-saber in a galaxy far, far away, but I, like you, have had those feelings, thought those thoughts, cringed or cried or laughed, all enabled by the filmmaker's skillful craft. 

 

By virtue of you, gentle reader, perusing this blog, you likely know me fairly well. And while most of us could easily create a list of our "favorite" movies (Star Wars, duh!), the introspection required to reveal yourself via the cinematic medium is a bit more involved. But I gladly lay myself bare to you....In no particular order, I offer the following list wherein some aspect of the characters, scenes, dialogue and/or thematic challenge has spoken my story aloud...at least to me. Do you know me well? See me, hear me, watch me in....but don't ask me to explain it.

 

-Defending Your Life

-Remains of the Day

-Modern Girls

-The Accidental Tourist

-Rashomon

-Never Let Me Go

-Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

-Stand By Me

-The Truman Show

-Midnight in Paris

-Office Space

-Stranger Than Fiction

-Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House

-Big Fish

-Lost in Translation

-The Ice Storm

-The House of Mirth

-The Age of Innocence

-Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day

-Pleasantville   

 

 

I'll be a Little Short-Handed....

I had a meeting with my Plastics MD the other day, discussing the plan for the new right boob. It will be a simple 1 hour surgery, and then, I get to go home. Easy, huh? What did throw me, though, was her warning that afterwards, for 6 weeks in fact, to ensure that the newly-positioned piece of silicone stays in place, I cannot lift anything more than a few pounds, reach over my head, gesture madly or do Marine push-up's. In other words, I will be like T-Rex...elbows gripped tightly to my sides with my wrists twirling, like attempts at frantic shadow puppets.

Just like T-Rex, I'll be unable to:
1. take a selfie.
2. make the bed.
3.  do anything with my hair...
4.  put on a hat.
5.  do CPR.

Love to all.

At a Loss For Words?

This whole dumb cancer thing started in August and kind of snowballed from there. At first, the medical line was "It's just a small lump; we'll do a lumpectomy and that's it." Then it was "Uhh....it's in a couple of different places, let's just wack the whole boob." And in between, no one was ever quite sure if chemo, radiation or both may have been in the future, as that depended on some serious microscope work on the half-rack on a slab in a lab...

 

With that scenario unfolding, I was hesitant to spread any news, as it just seemed to be getting worse with each medical interaction. It's hard enough to start a conversation with "I have cancer;" it's even worse to imagine re-starting that conversation over and over again with each bit of newfound horribleness.

 

So I chose to wait until I knew the whole story, and even then, the sheer numbers of people you want to include are exhausting in and of themselves. The miracle of the internet, Facebook and this blog, have allowed me to tell the story as I have deemed appropriate. Not all the info at once, not to everyone, and with sparing me endless repetition and the potential for teary refrains.

 

And so, in response, many of you have emailed, or sent a card, or better still, sent flowers and chocolate and wine....and it was all graciously welcomed. But some did not. Not a word. Even some of those whom I've always thought were rather close, chose not to communicate. And that's OK...like I said, when my opening line to you is "I have cancer..." an appropriate comeback is a tough thing to muster.

 

I have found a certain strange mirth in those who sent "Get Well" cards: when you don't know that someone will get well, is that politically correct? And what's with the coloring- books, huh? Was that for the potential chemo-hours ahead to get my potential chemo-brain off the potential of chemo-belly? (Just as well, I've never been able to color within the lines anyway.) All well-intentioned, I know...but "I have cancer" and can make these sweeping judgments. 

 

My story is progressing nicely...I'm doing phenomenally-well and will be better than new by the end of March. But, please, keep the emails, and cards, and certainly gifts of all kinds, coming. Because you know, "I have cancer."

 

PS: My husband says I'm not allowed to use that excuse any longer as the surgery "cured" me and chemo is not required. Shit. Would you believe "I miss you?"

 

Love to all.

 



Playing the Cancer Card?

When the events of the world around me are just too horrific to bear, like when a racist misogynistic fascist gets elected supreme US leader, I just turn inward and focus on myself. As I've said before, aside from a right boob that is alternately numb or hypersensitive (was that TMI?) things are really not so bad.

A friend of mine, who has gone through this whole breast-cancer badness gambit, reminded me that there are, in fact, some remarkable advantages to having cancer:

1. Friends give you candy, flowers, books & booze.
2. You get to test-drive all the best narcotics & be on a first-name basis with your pharmacist.
3. You find out who your friends really are (forgive the grammar).
4. You tend not to stress so much about the small shit (and it's all small shit).
5. You can always use "But I have cancer," as an excuse for most anything.

My husband has reminded me that since my surgical interlude, I can't play the cancer card anymore, because now I don't "have" cancer (just a incrementally immense propensity, as opposed to anyone else). But it certainly can come in handy....Not that I would play that hand.

 

A Pisser of a Year

The past 13 months have been pretty horrific:

October 27, 2015 : Rich had a heart attack.
November 3, 2015: Rich had a cardiac arrest  (for which I had to perform CPR). He lives!
January 10, 2016: David Bowie died.
January 18, 2016: Glenn Frey died.
January 28, 2016: The Zika virus outbreak begins.
February 7, 2016:  North Korea launches a long-range rocket into space.
April 21, 2016: Prince died.
August 28, 2016: Gene Wilder died.
September 5, 2016: I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
October 10, 2016: I underwent a mastectomy.
November 8, 2016: America went to hell in a hand-basket.

2017 has got to be better, right?

Love to all.

November 8, 2016: A Dark Day

I'm well aware of my place in the universe. I know that in the grand scheme of things, my entire existence is a transient thing, and whatever small significance I possess will eventually be lost to the cosmic winds.

But even on this tiny blue speck of a planet in the multi-verse, there's always a chance to "do the right thing," and strive to improve, refine, educate and evolve. But not all share my views..... 

On this Election Day 2016, hatred, racism, misogyny, division, isolationism and ignorance were shown to be the prevailing traits of my fellow Americans, as fear, not understanding, ruled their decision-making (or lack thereof). There is a palpable unease of our country's future and a chilling realization that this upcoming administration's decisions will have an impact for generations to come.

Cancer was a lot less painful to bear.

Love to all.

Is it Hot in Here?

 

I'm old. I was already under the spell of menopause, and had been enjoying my physician-sanctioned max dose of hormone replacement for a long time. It seemed so easy. "Better living through chemistry" right?

But that's all over now. Estrogen, if you recall, feeds cancer. Sigh....so it's off the table.

And, as a result, the fiery gates of Hell have opened, in the form of the infamous "hot flashes." About every 2 hours or so, it feels as if I have a Grade A sunburn and have just opened the oven door in my face. It lasts about 10 minutes, then, poof, I'm back to my version of normal. My peers have been known to experience a variation which includes sweating like a porcine she-devil, but luckily I've been spared that aspect. And anyway, ladies never sweat, they "glow."

I try to remain focused that in the big picture of things, I'm alive, healing well, and soon will have the tits of a 19-year-old. It could always be worse. But I really miss my estrogen...and sleeping.

Kancer Kalories

When I first received this cancer diagnosis....I have to be honest here....one of my first thoughts was "Awesome: I can eat anything, because I'll need all those extra calories to counteract the demonic CHEMO-monster looming on the horizon." Truly....this was in the back of my mind. The tiniest of silver-linings in that ominous black cloud. Granted, it was not my very first thought (but certainly right behind throwing-up and losing my hair). It made placing that 610-calorie Marie Callender's Chicken Pot Pie in the microwave all the easier. But now, I'm busted.

Although I will be forever grateful to the cosmos for sparing me the rigors of chemotherapy, I now have to (Doctor's orders no less):
1. Exercise (daily, in fact)
2. Eat limited red meat and more vegetables...and go organic on all 
3. Lose 20 pounds
4. Drink water
5. Stand, not sit

In addition, the daily renegade-cancer-cell-killing drug, has, as one of it's many side effects: weight gain! In fact, during these first 5 days that I've taken this stuff, I've gained 3 pounds! Some would say that the celebratory filet mignon, loaded baked potatoes, Halloween cupcakes, nightly popcorn and medicinal Cabernet have been contributing factors...obviously, these are just opinions, and not facts. Just like the "debate" on global warming.

So, to save my life.....I've:
1.  taken away my office chair and installed a standing desk.
2.  made "infused" fruit water and have a glass always at hand.
3.  taken a small loan to buy our all our groceries at Whole Foods.
4.  walked across the street to my gym and pedaled a bike that goes no where.
5.  weighed myself each morning, through tear-stained eyes.

Those of you who already enjoy this new-fangled "active-lifestyle" thing are surely rolling your eyes at my perception of this new trial.......I wonder how many calories that burns?

Love.

Dodging a Bullet?

This Halloween was the happiest I can remember (short of the time that all the people left bowls of candy on their doorsteps, and asked us to take only one...ha!)...but I digress.

Rich & I met with the Oncology Doctor on Halloween (cue the triumphal moving theme), and she agreed with my interpretation of the lab tests: NO CHEMO!!! Done! No radiation......nothing, well, except for reconstructing this slightly deflated boob in the months ahead and taking a daily medication.

Said medication is Arimidex@, which serves to stop estrogen production, that potentially could feed clandestine ninja cancer cells lurking about, and starve the bastards out.  Way too easy, right? One pill, once a day....for FIVE YEARS...maybe TEN, depending on ever-changing long-term studies. But still real good. I'm pleased.

Dodged that bullet.

Love to all.