Clearly, yesterday was a lousy day.
Lousy days just tend to lead to lousier nights.
Lousy nights are unpleasant just by themselves.
Being alone in a not so tiny home during a lousy night, Exponentially Unpleasant.
Enter: Sleep Deprivation.
Soon following: Delusional
Last night was just a lousy, lonely, unpleasant night.
At 6AM when I was still awake watching Law & Order looking for clues as to where each scene was shot, it was crystal clear today would be an unproductive day.
I'm not fighting it. I'm going to bed. I think I sufficiently stared down every personal issue presently on the table and then moved to Conrad Murray, some financial crisis in Greece, Occupy Wall Street (or Oakland or LA or wherever), an asteroid that is going to streak through the sky.....
Oh.... oh dear. Joe Frazier. Rest in peace. Liver cancer. This morning I read he was in hospice and just a moment ago, I see he's one more victim of this insidious disease we call cancer.
That does it for me.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
GFY INSPIRATIONAL CRAP, CTFO AM
AKA: BLINDSIDED, PART 2
There are a couple of text shortcuts in the title. Most of us know LOL although I tend to use haha when I send a text. Don't know why I can't seem to embrace LOL. Also, I don't quite understand much more than :) or ;) .... well, actually, I understand them when they are sent to me, but my replies don't extend beyond smiley or winkey. I'm a big hug and kisser. And, it's not just a way to end a note. They are heartfelt. So, to everyone who's following along..... xoxoxoxox
In case translation of the title is required:
GFY = Go F__k Yourself
CTFO = Chill The F__ k Out (thank you Terri from A Fresh Chapter, I Like That, Lots)
Last week, it was mom's scan and just as I let my guard down, believing I was free of all doctor appointments for SIX whole months, the unwanted call. It's no big deal. I'm sure it's not a big deal. Just like I am SURE this pain in my back that seems to be radiating from my lower back and around my pelvic bone and is breaking right through the leftover pain meds.... that's nothing, too.
My relationship issues are challenging at best, damn near impossible to fix on the other end of the spectrum. You know. Those things I still can't share. There are a few other things that have caused a bit of havoc in my life. Right now, as far as I have come in little more than one year (and damn, I have come so far)...... in this moment, it feels as though I obliterated an entire year of progress. Certain things are beginning to feel like deja vu all over again.
This is all stuff for another day. The details of the nonsense that knocked me down in the past 12 hours..... For now, it's all about a greeting card..... Because, I am just so done. And this card captures the sentiment just perfectly. In other words, I don't want a F____ing word of encouragement. I want to wallow in my own disgust and irritation if that's okay with everyone. Because sometimes, ya just gotta stop believing in that zen crap. Today is one of those days. OKAY???
There are a couple of text shortcuts in the title. Most of us know LOL although I tend to use haha when I send a text. Don't know why I can't seem to embrace LOL. Also, I don't quite understand much more than :) or ;) .... well, actually, I understand them when they are sent to me, but my replies don't extend beyond smiley or winkey. I'm a big hug and kisser. And, it's not just a way to end a note. They are heartfelt. So, to everyone who's following along..... xoxoxoxox
In case translation of the title is required:
GFY = Go F__k Yourself
CTFO = Chill The F__ k Out (thank you Terri from A Fresh Chapter, I Like That, Lots)
Last week, it was mom's scan and just as I let my guard down, believing I was free of all doctor appointments for SIX whole months, the unwanted call. It's no big deal. I'm sure it's not a big deal. Just like I am SURE this pain in my back that seems to be radiating from my lower back and around my pelvic bone and is breaking right through the leftover pain meds.... that's nothing, too.
My relationship issues are challenging at best, damn near impossible to fix on the other end of the spectrum. You know. Those things I still can't share. There are a few other things that have caused a bit of havoc in my life. Right now, as far as I have come in little more than one year (and damn, I have come so far)...... in this moment, it feels as though I obliterated an entire year of progress. Certain things are beginning to feel like deja vu all over again.
This is all stuff for another day. The details of the nonsense that knocked me down in the past 12 hours..... For now, it's all about a greeting card..... Because, I am just so done. And this card captures the sentiment just perfectly. In other words, I don't want a F____ing word of encouragement. I want to wallow in my own disgust and irritation if that's okay with everyone. Because sometimes, ya just gotta stop believing in that zen crap. Today is one of those days. OKAY???
Friday, November 4, 2011
WORLDS COLLIDE
The world got so small. It started with the internet (Al Gore, right?). I caught my very first glimpse of the power of the internet in September of 2001. It was prior to September 11. Barely. But prior.
My daughter was still in high school and on the school soccer team. My son just started college in Rhode Island. One afternoon, my son called. My daughter was still not home. Soccer practice. He proceeds to ask me, "What happened in the girls' locker room?" I had NO idea what the hell he was talking about. Which locker room? Should I turn on the TV? Was there some disaster on Long Island?
I'm pretty sure my response was along the lines of, "What the HELL are you talking about?" So he continues, "At the high school. Some guy was caught in the girls' locker room. It was an older guy, not a kid from school." And me, still saying, "WHAT? Where do you come up with this bullshit?"
Continuing along, "Mom, some guy was caught hiding in the girls' locker room before soccer practice. Did my sister get home yet?" He played a few high school sports. (Mostly, he spent his time on the local golf courses, after school, generally after dark and his best sport was running off the golf course. Just sayin.) He did, however play some "real" sports and he knew it was far too early for his sister to be home. As I recall, it was barely 4PM.
Now, I'm simultaneously upset and annoyed. "There was an incident at the school," he said, "after classes were over, they saw some strange guy running out of the locker room." I did a quick glance at the clock and realized if this was all accurate, he was, true to form, getting me the news within 45 minutes of said incident. Bin Laden? Bullet hadn't yet exited and he had the information. Earthquake? Before Fox and CNN. Qaddafi? C'mon mom, I was listening to it when he was STILL ALIVE. My son, The Information Compass.
I already ascertained somewhere in this conversation that all of the girls were fine. No one was touched and this jerk (to this day, unknown) didn't expose himself. No harm, no foul. Close call. Knowing everyone was safe, I immediately went into WTF mode, "How the hell did you find out about this? I'm three miles from the school and you are up in Rhode Island and you're calling me while your sister is still AT the school??" And the reply, "My friend's mom told him and he told me."
So, this is how the news got to me. His buddy's mom happened to be at the school when this happened. Mom (the witness, who happened to be a friend of mine) spoke to HER son in Tucson, Arizona. This was back in the days of buddy lists and instant messaging. When AOL was king...... (back story coming shortly.....) .... My son got an IM from his friend who was at the University of Arizona. In other words, in less than one hour, some nut managed to get into the locker room, the news traveled from my neighborhood to Arizona...... and from Arizona to Rhode Island and ultimately, from Rhode Island to my home.
Like I said, the world got very small and it started with the internet. AOL and instant messaging were the foundation. Now we are tweeting, friending, unfriending, blocking, skyping, blogging and I'm sure plenty of other things that I would likely rather not know about.
The world began to shrink and simultaneously, the world expanded. Exponentially. Explosive. The explosion finally came banging on my door. I was strolling along (really, struggling along would be a more accurate description) in a direction. Headed no where. Totally closed off. Exceptionally unfulfilled. Kinda disgusted. Definitely annoyed. Tired of listening to (mostly my daughter, to whom I've apologized), "It's never too late to try something different."
Yeah, yeah. I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes at her many times. Probably, no not probably, ABSOLUTELY told her, "You are wrong. There comes a point in life when it IS too late to shift gears." It makes for a great inspirational plaque or a greeting card or some other nonsense. It all sounds great. On the bullshit plaque. Or the greeting card that will inspire me for a moment and then Piss. Me. Off.
And suddenly, and I do mean suddenly, my life decided it was time for me to make a left turn. I haven't a CLUE how or why I allowed myself to take the turn but once I stepped left, life changed. Passions began to stir. I am so far from the point where I made that left turn that I don't remember life before This. I'm not even sure what "this" is quite yet. I only know if something Sounded Right. Felt Right. Seemed Right, I explored. I became the proverbial kid in the candy story. And, in less than four months, I have been enriched by the relationships that I have developed with a multitude of new friends. Dozens and DOZENS of new friends.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with "strangers." Except we aren't strangers. We were five people who connected via the internet and in a most serendipitous fashion, managed to make the time to Make It Happen. Five people whose sole form of communication was This. Words on a screen. There wasn't one moment of awkward silence or one second of anything other than a sense of belonging.
Yesterday, my soul was touched. (Yep, it's official. I turned into my daughter who, although she isn't reading this, IF she were, HER eyes would be rolling.... ) I'm not sure how it all came together but I do know it started when we found out Terri would be stopping in NY as she embarks on an adventure that is absolutely inspiring. Elyn graciously opened up her home to Britta, Murray & I so that we could all spend time with Terri before she heads toward the next stop on her great journey.
I can't describe how strongly I now feel about new friends I met less than 24 hours ago. Yesterday, I explored yet again, and again, I am home, feeling wonderful about the day. There are bad days and sad days and mad days but at the end of ALL of them, I always feel like it was a good day.
I still haven't determined exactly where this is all taking me, but I'm following my heart and I'm feeding my curiosity and I'm finding my way. I'm aimless with a purpose. I'm moving in a direction. And yet, I'm exactly where I am supposed to be at this time in my life. Right Here. Happy. Fulfilled. Riding the Wave.
(OK... this has gotten far too sappy.... Can the thief kindly return my brain? Ahhh, and I promised a back story. Were you paying attention?? Tucson, home to Item #1 on my Rosebud List. Miraval Resort. Calmest place I have EVER been. Oprah's favorite spa in the US..... The place where I am going to zipline-just because. And who owns Miraval? Why, Steve Case-you know, that guy who founded AOL. And apparently on Cinco de Mayo, they had some shindig out there. It all fits. My episode about AOL and the locker room story coming back to NY via Tucson, Terri has a thing for Oprah-poke around her blog, Britta's website is Cinco Vidas, and all of us realized the joy in giving..... Now, to figure out a way to get everyone to Miraval, I'll have to work on getting a deal..... so we can all-not just the five of us from yesterday, but all of those into whom I've collided......we could have a great retreat-ish, zen-ish, or martini-ish time.....and then, everyone can watch me make a fool of myself as I zipline across the Arizona desert)
My daughter was still in high school and on the school soccer team. My son just started college in Rhode Island. One afternoon, my son called. My daughter was still not home. Soccer practice. He proceeds to ask me, "What happened in the girls' locker room?" I had NO idea what the hell he was talking about. Which locker room? Should I turn on the TV? Was there some disaster on Long Island?
I'm pretty sure my response was along the lines of, "What the HELL are you talking about?" So he continues, "At the high school. Some guy was caught in the girls' locker room. It was an older guy, not a kid from school." And me, still saying, "WHAT? Where do you come up with this bullshit?"
Continuing along, "Mom, some guy was caught hiding in the girls' locker room before soccer practice. Did my sister get home yet?" He played a few high school sports. (Mostly, he spent his time on the local golf courses, after school, generally after dark and his best sport was running off the golf course. Just sayin.) He did, however play some "real" sports and he knew it was far too early for his sister to be home. As I recall, it was barely 4PM.
Now, I'm simultaneously upset and annoyed. "There was an incident at the school," he said, "after classes were over, they saw some strange guy running out of the locker room." I did a quick glance at the clock and realized if this was all accurate, he was, true to form, getting me the news within 45 minutes of said incident. Bin Laden? Bullet hadn't yet exited and he had the information. Earthquake? Before Fox and CNN. Qaddafi? C'mon mom, I was listening to it when he was STILL ALIVE. My son, The Information Compass.
I already ascertained somewhere in this conversation that all of the girls were fine. No one was touched and this jerk (to this day, unknown) didn't expose himself. No harm, no foul. Close call. Knowing everyone was safe, I immediately went into WTF mode, "How the hell did you find out about this? I'm three miles from the school and you are up in Rhode Island and you're calling me while your sister is still AT the school??" And the reply, "My friend's mom told him and he told me."
So, this is how the news got to me. His buddy's mom happened to be at the school when this happened. Mom (the witness, who happened to be a friend of mine) spoke to HER son in Tucson, Arizona. This was back in the days of buddy lists and instant messaging. When AOL was king...... (back story coming shortly.....) .... My son got an IM from his friend who was at the University of Arizona. In other words, in less than one hour, some nut managed to get into the locker room, the news traveled from my neighborhood to Arizona...... and from Arizona to Rhode Island and ultimately, from Rhode Island to my home.
Like I said, the world got very small and it started with the internet. AOL and instant messaging were the foundation. Now we are tweeting, friending, unfriending, blocking, skyping, blogging and I'm sure plenty of other things that I would likely rather not know about.
The world began to shrink and simultaneously, the world expanded. Exponentially. Explosive. The explosion finally came banging on my door. I was strolling along (really, struggling along would be a more accurate description) in a direction. Headed no where. Totally closed off. Exceptionally unfulfilled. Kinda disgusted. Definitely annoyed. Tired of listening to (mostly my daughter, to whom I've apologized), "It's never too late to try something different."
Yeah, yeah. I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes at her many times. Probably, no not probably, ABSOLUTELY told her, "You are wrong. There comes a point in life when it IS too late to shift gears." It makes for a great inspirational plaque or a greeting card or some other nonsense. It all sounds great. On the bullshit plaque. Or the greeting card that will inspire me for a moment and then Piss. Me. Off.
And suddenly, and I do mean suddenly, my life decided it was time for me to make a left turn. I haven't a CLUE how or why I allowed myself to take the turn but once I stepped left, life changed. Passions began to stir. I am so far from the point where I made that left turn that I don't remember life before This. I'm not even sure what "this" is quite yet. I only know if something Sounded Right. Felt Right. Seemed Right, I explored. I became the proverbial kid in the candy story. And, in less than four months, I have been enriched by the relationships that I have developed with a multitude of new friends. Dozens and DOZENS of new friends.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with "strangers." Except we aren't strangers. We were five people who connected via the internet and in a most serendipitous fashion, managed to make the time to Make It Happen. Five people whose sole form of communication was This. Words on a screen. There wasn't one moment of awkward silence or one second of anything other than a sense of belonging.
Yesterday, my soul was touched. (Yep, it's official. I turned into my daughter who, although she isn't reading this, IF she were, HER eyes would be rolling.... ) I'm not sure how it all came together but I do know it started when we found out Terri would be stopping in NY as she embarks on an adventure that is absolutely inspiring. Elyn graciously opened up her home to Britta, Murray & I so that we could all spend time with Terri before she heads toward the next stop on her great journey.
I can't describe how strongly I now feel about new friends I met less than 24 hours ago. Yesterday, I explored yet again, and again, I am home, feeling wonderful about the day. There are bad days and sad days and mad days but at the end of ALL of them, I always feel like it was a good day.
I still haven't determined exactly where this is all taking me, but I'm following my heart and I'm feeding my curiosity and I'm finding my way. I'm aimless with a purpose. I'm moving in a direction. And yet, I'm exactly where I am supposed to be at this time in my life. Right Here. Happy. Fulfilled. Riding the Wave.
(OK... this has gotten far too sappy.... Can the thief kindly return my brain? Ahhh, and I promised a back story. Were you paying attention?? Tucson, home to Item #1 on my Rosebud List. Miraval Resort. Calmest place I have EVER been. Oprah's favorite spa in the US..... The place where I am going to zipline-just because. And who owns Miraval? Why, Steve Case-you know, that guy who founded AOL. And apparently on Cinco de Mayo, they had some shindig out there. It all fits. My episode about AOL and the locker room story coming back to NY via Tucson, Terri has a thing for Oprah-poke around her blog, Britta's website is Cinco Vidas, and all of us realized the joy in giving..... Now, to figure out a way to get everyone to Miraval, I'll have to work on getting a deal..... so we can all-not just the five of us from yesterday, but all of those into whom I've collided......we could have a great retreat-ish, zen-ish, or martini-ish time.....and then, everyone can watch me make a fool of myself as I zipline across the Arizona desert)
Thursday, November 3, 2011
THREE'S DAY
Today is all about three's. I amused myself with one's on 11/1/11. I found it amusing to see a comment on that entry which was posted on 11/2 @ 2:22.... That made yesterday two's day (even though it was actually Wednesday... say it aloud TOOOSAY)......
I'm fried. It's weird in a scary "poetic" moment kinda way that I was called with news on Halloween. News that just automatically equates to fright..... "more tests" .... My logical mind knows two things. My mom's scan is going to be normal. My abnormal cells will be nothing when I finally get this test done (in three weeks). I HAVE to put it out of my mind. THREE weeks??!?! I get it.
"IF this is a problem, it would be very slow moving so don't panic."
Easy for the person doing the talking to say that. The listener? Not so much.
In the spirit of Three's, I recall my very first post. I remember poking fun at things in threes...... I remember bouncing all over the place with my thoughts. I remember.... hell...... since I can't remember much, you might like to check it out for yourself if you're so inclined.....
My entry into the land of blogs....... just a little more than three months ago..... It's been forever in my mind and yet, I'm just beginning.... It's Anew Direction. In Three Months.
I'm fried. It's weird in a scary "poetic" moment kinda way that I was called with news on Halloween. News that just automatically equates to fright..... "more tests" .... My logical mind knows two things. My mom's scan is going to be normal. My abnormal cells will be nothing when I finally get this test done (in three weeks). I HAVE to put it out of my mind. THREE weeks??!?! I get it.
"IF this is a problem, it would be very slow moving so don't panic."
Easy for the person doing the talking to say that. The listener? Not so much.
In the spirit of Three's, I recall my very first post. I remember poking fun at things in threes...... I remember bouncing all over the place with my thoughts. I remember.... hell...... since I can't remember much, you might like to check it out for yourself if you're so inclined.....
My entry into the land of blogs....... just a little more than three months ago..... It's been forever in my mind and yet, I'm just beginning.... It's Anew Direction. In Three Months.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
BLINDSIDED
My mother is my sister. Don't get all weirded out and think I have some twisted version of that Chevy Chase "Vacation" movie going on..... We are breast cancer sisters and we are living proof that little has changed in since 1987.
In 1987, when my mom joined the club, my daughter was two years old. I don't want my daughter to be my sister, too. If you missed yesterday's sneaky attempt at a bait and switch to convince everyone join Army of Women (and to get all of their friends, to join too), please take a peek. My mom, my (real) sisters, my sister sisters, my daughter and I could really use as much support as you are willing to toss in our direction.
This morning, my mom is back at Sloan Kettering for yet another test. We are SURVIVORS. And the guilt associated with bitching about the tests and the doctor visits and (today, for my mom) the scans, is becoming quite burdensome. The thing is..... there is fear. Indeed, it can be terrorizing. Test time, doctor follow ups, we all know the drill. You can't just quit cancer. Pick up the marbles and say, C-ya, I'm outta here.
It doesn't work that way but I'm not breaking new ground here or reinventing the wheel. I'm simply restating the obvious. Maybe it needs to be restated a million billion trillion more times and perhaps three non club members MIGHT catch a glimpse into what it means when one of us says, "the oxygen was sucked from my lungs" or "my chest felt like I was being stomped on by an elephant" or "I just remember the room began to spin and then I was on the floor" .....
Two days ago, I was blindsided. Because I know my mom reads my blog every day, I had no intention of "outing" this little episode until it faded into the background. Protecting mom because why should she hand wring over what I am sure (just like I was told all those other times, ahem) will turn out to be a big nothing. I just finished up my October round of doctor follow ups and tests. I was free and clear until next spring. Oncology is now at six month intervals. Gynecology, after over THREE years of three to five month intervals was set for annual visits. I am one year post op. Pinktober is over and I can put this chapter of tests and check ups to a close. Yay Me!
As I was gearing up for the onslaught of trick or treaters (doorbell rang exactly TWICE and now I have a crisis AND twelve bags of chocolate), the phone rang. I recognized the number immediately. I see doctors at four different buildings at Sloan Kettering (five if I count the actual hospital where I have been for seven different surgical "procedures" since 2006). They pretty much own half of the real estate in Manhattan thanks to the Rockefellers and the Lauders (as in "Estee"). Oh yeah and Messrs. Sloan & Kettering.
Where am I in this mess? Oh yes. That stupid phone. I am in the clear. Even though I know the call is from one of the Sloan offices, it's too late for anything other than the research people contacting me about the extension software so I can exercise my brain a bit more. Soon, I should be able to remember a string of seven numbers with relative ease. Presently, I'm cool with five, semi-ok with six and the minute the seventh digit is added to the string, I don't remember ANY of the numbers. Not too sure WTF that's all about, I'm just really glad to see that they are calling. I enjoyed some of those silly games I played back in June and July prior to embarking on my adventures into blogging/tweeting/volunteering.
And this is why I'm better off remaining on constant high alert. My guard was down. I am fine. I'm five years post surgery. Last year's DaVinci surgery was really to be "proactive" for any other "female cancers." High risk and other issues where the doctor was following me closely before she suggested, "it's time." Being followed closely is nerve racking. Can you feel me? I know you can.....
Having a surgeon at a hospital where they primarily "suggest" options, strongly recommend a total hysterectomy..... well, let's just say by the time she uttered those words, I was already fluent in the language of cancer as spoken at a major cancer center, and in cancer speak, her recommendation meant, "Hop to it, AnneMarie, this is a ticking time bomb." I didn't hop altogether that quickly. I didn't want to spoil the summer of 2010. The surgery was on October 1, 2010.
Is it ironic that precisely thirteen months later, on October 31, 2011, I was listening to the nurse say, hell, I don't really remember anything beyond "abnormal cells, bad pap" when my chest began to constrict, the oxygen was sucked from the room and my head began to spin. And so, I wait. To schedule another test, for my mom to get results of her scan, to have my test done, to get my results. The big wait. That's the thing with this cancer shit. It's all about the waiting.
I can assure you waiting sucks even more when THIS is the last email I looked at before heading to bed last night. Right now, I can picture Laura Linney, the red nail polish, The Big C and ringing in my ears, a melody. "Is this some kind of a joke......." Surely, you must be kidding me and this MUST be a joke.
And once again, mom and daughter, treated almost identically despite 19 years between diagnoses........ this MUST be a really truly unbelievably twisted joke.... in the same 48 hour time span, some 24 years after mom first stepped into CancerLand and five years after I sauntered in behind her, both of us, blindsided by MORE tests.
In 1987, when my mom joined the club, my daughter was two years old. I don't want my daughter to be my sister, too. If you missed yesterday's sneaky attempt at a bait and switch to convince everyone join Army of Women (and to get all of their friends, to join too), please take a peek. My mom, my (real) sisters, my sister sisters, my daughter and I could really use as much support as you are willing to toss in our direction.
This morning, my mom is back at Sloan Kettering for yet another test. We are SURVIVORS. And the guilt associated with bitching about the tests and the doctor visits and (today, for my mom) the scans, is becoming quite burdensome. The thing is..... there is fear. Indeed, it can be terrorizing. Test time, doctor follow ups, we all know the drill. You can't just quit cancer. Pick up the marbles and say, C-ya, I'm outta here.
It doesn't work that way but I'm not breaking new ground here or reinventing the wheel. I'm simply restating the obvious. Maybe it needs to be restated a million billion trillion more times and perhaps three non club members MIGHT catch a glimpse into what it means when one of us says, "the oxygen was sucked from my lungs" or "my chest felt like I was being stomped on by an elephant" or "I just remember the room began to spin and then I was on the floor" .....
Two days ago, I was blindsided. Because I know my mom reads my blog every day, I had no intention of "outing" this little episode until it faded into the background. Protecting mom because why should she hand wring over what I am sure (just like I was told all those other times, ahem) will turn out to be a big nothing. I just finished up my October round of doctor follow ups and tests. I was free and clear until next spring. Oncology is now at six month intervals. Gynecology, after over THREE years of three to five month intervals was set for annual visits. I am one year post op. Pinktober is over and I can put this chapter of tests and check ups to a close. Yay Me!
As I was gearing up for the onslaught of trick or treaters (doorbell rang exactly TWICE and now I have a crisis AND twelve bags of chocolate), the phone rang. I recognized the number immediately. I see doctors at four different buildings at Sloan Kettering (five if I count the actual hospital where I have been for seven different surgical "procedures" since 2006). They pretty much own half of the real estate in Manhattan thanks to the Rockefellers and the Lauders (as in "Estee"). Oh yeah and Messrs. Sloan & Kettering.
Where am I in this mess? Oh yes. That stupid phone. I am in the clear. Even though I know the call is from one of the Sloan offices, it's too late for anything other than the research people contacting me about the extension software so I can exercise my brain a bit more. Soon, I should be able to remember a string of seven numbers with relative ease. Presently, I'm cool with five, semi-ok with six and the minute the seventh digit is added to the string, I don't remember ANY of the numbers. Not too sure WTF that's all about, I'm just really glad to see that they are calling. I enjoyed some of those silly games I played back in June and July prior to embarking on my adventures into blogging/tweeting/volunteering.
And this is why I'm better off remaining on constant high alert. My guard was down. I am fine. I'm five years post surgery. Last year's DaVinci surgery was really to be "proactive" for any other "female cancers." High risk and other issues where the doctor was following me closely before she suggested, "it's time." Being followed closely is nerve racking. Can you feel me? I know you can.....
Having a surgeon at a hospital where they primarily "suggest" options, strongly recommend a total hysterectomy..... well, let's just say by the time she uttered those words, I was already fluent in the language of cancer as spoken at a major cancer center, and in cancer speak, her recommendation meant, "Hop to it, AnneMarie, this is a ticking time bomb." I didn't hop altogether that quickly. I didn't want to spoil the summer of 2010. The surgery was on October 1, 2010.
Is it ironic that precisely thirteen months later, on October 31, 2011, I was listening to the nurse say, hell, I don't really remember anything beyond "abnormal cells, bad pap" when my chest began to constrict, the oxygen was sucked from the room and my head began to spin. And so, I wait. To schedule another test, for my mom to get results of her scan, to have my test done, to get my results. The big wait. That's the thing with this cancer shit. It's all about the waiting.
I can assure you waiting sucks even more when THIS is the last email I looked at before heading to bed last night. Right now, I can picture Laura Linney, the red nail polish, The Big C and ringing in my ears, a melody. "Is this some kind of a joke......." Surely, you must be kidding me and this MUST be a joke.
And once again, mom and daughter, treated almost identically despite 19 years between diagnoses........ this MUST be a really truly unbelievably twisted joke.... in the same 48 hour time span, some 24 years after mom first stepped into CancerLand and five years after I sauntered in behind her, both of us, blindsided by MORE tests.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
"ONE" DAY
If there is anyone who doesn't realize I changed my life because chemobrain forced me to do something.... the blog title should be a good hint. My twitter name, too.
Chemobrain took me away to embark in Anew Direction because I could no longer perform in my inherited profession. If you have not been following along and are choosing to pop in and say hi, well, back at ya and:
Today is 11/1/11. The day after my birthday, it will be 11/11/11. This is the stuff that amuses me. Why? No clue. Today, however is The Day Of Ones. By the time this is posted (and yes, it will be scheduled for 1:11AM just because), I'm sure there will be a blurb on every news outlet. It's cute.
Today, as we begin the month of November and only for this very first day of November.... except for Groundhog Day, I am making a proclamation. 11/1/11 (and 11/11/11) are hereby under authority of one messed up rearranged brain officially:
(Listen up. I can claim the days......If someone, somewhere was able to get November to be National Blog Post Month, WTF-are you kidding me..... seriously, you can't make this shit up and why do bloggers need an awareness month...... what nonsense, what stupidity and WHO comes about doing this anyway???) Before I lose you by getting off topic, or by stating that in ten days, it WILL be a Groundhog Day thing, I want to make my point. Then, you can get lost (hopefully, here in some of my silliness) or somewhere far more entertaining.
In these past three months, although I had every reason to suspect that chemobrain is a BIG deal to MANY people, I think I understated its reach. I can't back up my theory with scientific facts. I can just see, as I already noted in a prior entry, how many places this blog is being read. And, every time I "meet" a new person, I hear the same challenges. And now, I'm hearing about people ten years past treatment still dealing with Chemotherapy Fallout. I was "righter" than I thought when I was asked if there was an "audience" for a blog about chemobrain.
THIS is why prevention is the cure. No one should have to be faced with choices to "mutilate." No one should have to "burn." And certainly, no one should have to choose to be "poisoned." Most importantly, NO ONE should have to die.
HOW will we get where we need to be? Now, that's a great question. And, I have an even greater answer. HOW is how. HOW is a study that was launched by Army of Women. HOW=Health Of Women. HOW is an online study, a survey that will track participants over time. You can click the link to the AOW page or you can read the "HOW?" page in the banner at the top of this blog.
I hope this blurb will encourage you to read about the study. I know this study is being "relaunched"in the spring. "HOW?" you ask..... "HOW do you know this??" Oh, the doubters..... it's that crystal ball and the mind reading thing.... old entries but yes, I see the future. I just know. I have a toothache.... If you are new to this party, no, I'm not crazy..... that may be worth a read if you want a laugh at my expense.
Back to the point that I didn't want to stray from.... So much for THAT goal.....THIS is the really really REALLY important part. Note to all: This is me with a blatant bribe. You will have to join the Army of Women in order to get the "Call to Action" when this is ready to launch in order to participate.
In the spirit of "fair play" there is a catch. By joining you WILL get the emails on the current studies that need to be filled. In the spirit of "why aren't we already at a million women" the studies are ALWAYS VOLUNTARY to join. There aren't more than a two or three emails a month and the studies ARE NOT DRUG STUDIES. I can't emphasize that enough. Actually, either of those points. Really, any of those points.
You read the email and decide if you are interested. Your inbox is not going to be inundated NOR is your personal information going to be given to ANYONE. AOW guards their data base as closely as Coke guards their recipe especially from Pepsi (FYI, I'm a coke person in case anyone cares). And they are not "clinical trials." They are research studies. Those are two completely different things. They are "quality of life" studies on survivors (does yoga help sleep, does guided imagery help chemobrain) and "information studies" on healthy women (does breast milk contain anything that may provide a clue).
Want in on the HOW study when it launches? Do it now so you don't forget. And one last thing. Those seemingly "personal" questions like age and ethnicity? A good database is only useful if it represents the ENTIRE population. Can't only have a bunch of middle aged white women. (Group chosen as a joke because I'm poking fun at ME.....quintessentially middle aged and obviously in need of a birth certificate check to remind me to act my age). We may SEEM to be everywhere you turn, but we are not a representative sampling of the population.
NOTE TO ANY AUSSIES: You have a similar group in Australia. They are just starting out. I met one of the women involved in this initiative at the Avon Pre Event. Send the word out down under!
If you don't want to click the links, humor me and read the highlights?? Now I aks ya, HOW can you turn this down. If I convinced ANYONE to join, please tell them "chemobrain sent me" .......
The highlights:
The HOW Study is the first ever online "cohort" study of an anticipated one million women. A “cohort” is a study that looks at a group of people over time, collecting data that can be analyzed to find the common risk factors or characteristics. The HOW Study will be looking at breast cancer risk factors in order to understand the cause of the disease and ways to prevent it.
Chemobrain took me away to embark in Anew Direction because I could no longer perform in my inherited profession. If you have not been following along and are choosing to pop in and say hi, well, back at ya and:
"I'm glad you found me and welcome to the party in my head."
Today is 11/1/11. The day after my birthday, it will be 11/11/11. This is the stuff that amuses me. Why? No clue. Today, however is The Day Of Ones. By the time this is posted (and yes, it will be scheduled for 1:11AM just because), I'm sure there will be a blurb on every news outlet. It's cute.
Today, as we begin the month of November and only for this very first day of November.... except for Groundhog Day, I am making a proclamation. 11/1/11 (and 11/11/11) are hereby under authority of one messed up rearranged brain officially:
One Day We Will Be In Anew Direction
(Listen up. I can claim the days......If someone, somewhere was able to get November to be National Blog Post Month, WTF-are you kidding me..... seriously, you can't make this shit up and why do bloggers need an awareness month...... what nonsense, what stupidity and WHO comes about doing this anyway???) Before I lose you by getting off topic, or by stating that in ten days, it WILL be a Groundhog Day thing, I want to make my point. Then, you can get lost (hopefully, here in some of my silliness) or somewhere far more entertaining.
In these past three months, although I had every reason to suspect that chemobrain is a BIG deal to MANY people, I think I understated its reach. I can't back up my theory with scientific facts. I can just see, as I already noted in a prior entry, how many places this blog is being read. And, every time I "meet" a new person, I hear the same challenges. And now, I'm hearing about people ten years past treatment still dealing with Chemotherapy Fallout. I was "righter" than I thought when I was asked if there was an "audience" for a blog about chemobrain.
THIS is why prevention is the cure. No one should have to be faced with choices to "mutilate." No one should have to "burn." And certainly, no one should have to choose to be "poisoned." Most importantly, NO ONE should have to die.
HOW will we get where we need to be? Now, that's a great question. And, I have an even greater answer. HOW is how. HOW is a study that was launched by Army of Women. HOW=Health Of Women. HOW is an online study, a survey that will track participants over time. You can click the link to the AOW page or you can read the "HOW?" page in the banner at the top of this blog.
I hope this blurb will encourage you to read about the study. I know this study is being "relaunched"in the spring. "HOW?" you ask..... "HOW do you know this??" Oh, the doubters..... it's that crystal ball and the mind reading thing.... old entries but yes, I see the future. I just know. I have a toothache.... If you are new to this party, no, I'm not crazy..... that may be worth a read if you want a laugh at my expense.
Back to the point that I didn't want to stray from.... So much for THAT goal.....THIS is the really really REALLY important part. Note to all: This is me with a blatant bribe. You will have to join the Army of Women in order to get the "Call to Action" when this is ready to launch in order to participate.
In the spirit of "fair play" there is a catch. By joining you WILL get the emails on the current studies that need to be filled. In the spirit of "why aren't we already at a million women" the studies are ALWAYS VOLUNTARY to join. There aren't more than a two or three emails a month and the studies ARE NOT DRUG STUDIES. I can't emphasize that enough. Actually, either of those points. Really, any of those points.
You read the email and decide if you are interested. Your inbox is not going to be inundated NOR is your personal information going to be given to ANYONE. AOW guards their data base as closely as Coke guards their recipe especially from Pepsi (FYI, I'm a coke person in case anyone cares). And they are not "clinical trials." They are research studies. Those are two completely different things. They are "quality of life" studies on survivors (does yoga help sleep, does guided imagery help chemobrain) and "information studies" on healthy women (does breast milk contain anything that may provide a clue).
Want in on the HOW study when it launches? Do it now so you don't forget. And one last thing. Those seemingly "personal" questions like age and ethnicity? A good database is only useful if it represents the ENTIRE population. Can't only have a bunch of middle aged white women. (Group chosen as a joke because I'm poking fun at ME.....quintessentially middle aged and obviously in need of a birth certificate check to remind me to act my age). We may SEEM to be everywhere you turn, but we are not a representative sampling of the population.
NOTE TO ANY AUSSIES: You have a similar group in Australia. They are just starting out. I met one of the women involved in this initiative at the Avon Pre Event. Send the word out down under!
If you don't want to click the links, humor me and read the highlights?? Now I aks ya, HOW can you turn this down. If I convinced ANYONE to join, please tell them "chemobrain sent me" .......
The highlights:
The HOW Study is the first ever online "cohort" study of an anticipated one million women. A “cohort” is a study that looks at a group of people over time, collecting data that can be analyzed to find the common risk factors or characteristics. The HOW Study will be looking at breast cancer risk factors in order to understand the cause of the disease and ways to prevent it.
and this is the really good part:
what, beyond treatment, leads to long term survival as well as what the real long term side effects of current treatments are. Finally, this will be the study that addresses the questions you've been asking: is there an environmental cause of breast cancer? Are fertility drugs and bio-identical hormones safe? And what about deodorant and underwire bras?and typical of the philosophy of Army of Women, the control is YOURS:
Each module will be dedicated to a specific topic, The modules will eliminate the need to ask every single question at once, which can be overwhelming for the user. Instead, the researchers plan to release a new module every two to three months. Each module should take about 15-20 minutes to complete.
Participants can choose to skip a module or to participate in all moduleMonday, October 31, 2011
YOU CAN'T FIX STUPID
Happy Halloween and Thank HEAVEN for the disappearance of the pink ribbon.
Starting tomorrow, we will be directed to be aware of other things. Things that NONE of us will ever learn are noteworthy during the month of November. A peek at one website talks about November awareness for veterans, adoption, diabetes, alzheimers, lung, pancreatic and prostate cancer and caregivers. That's not even a complete list. Whew.
I do want to close out this final day in October reminding everyone that there is much work to be done. The only thing we are aware of is that October means races and pink ribbons. These are the words of someone I "met" on twitter:
This same person brought something else to my attention. I have been trying to keep the conversation going on behalf of those with metastatic breast cancer. She posted one of my tweets to a Facebook page:
The post caused "outrage" and her entries were deleted. In addition, she was accused of spreading untruths. Since she doesn't know I am writing this blog, I will leave her anonymous unless she consents to being "outed."
When I got the name of the Facebook page, I posted a note and then put up a second post with a link to one of the Metastatic Breast Cancer organizations. Another blogger also added a very kindly worded post on the Facebook page with a link to her letter written to Komen about funding for research of metastatic breast cancer.
One of my posts is still on the FB page. Any other entries with links to PROVE the accuracy of that statement have been deleted. This "dust up" all occurred on the Facebook page of a UK Television Show called "Loose Women." Go find them on FB. The page is open to all. Better yet, google it. The first sentence in Wiki says:
That would ordinarily make me laugh. Except, they have an audience and their audience was so busy applauding one of the "brainless women" for having a mammogram on the air, they weren't interested in the reality of the disease called Breast Cancer.
It bugs me when people who are IN THE POSITION to teach, to educate, to shine light on the facts choose to make believe the facts are lies. This goes beyond doing a disservice to the women who apparently adore this bunch. There are times when we can be helpful, there are times when we can be neither helpful nor harmful and then There Is This.
This is when harm is done. And I can't sit back and watch false information even lead ONE woman to believe she is safe because the "brainless women" said so. I happen to be very fond of a young mom whom I've known for more than half of her life. She lives in London. She has three young sons. And she has breast cancer. So, I sent a tweet to someone who might have some influence in the UK. We'll see what happens. In the meantime, in the words of one of another tweep (and as soon as I remember who said this, I will give them proper credit because I can't claim these words as mine):
Starting tomorrow, we will be directed to be aware of other things. Things that NONE of us will ever learn are noteworthy during the month of November. A peek at one website talks about November awareness for veterans, adoption, diabetes, alzheimers, lung, pancreatic and prostate cancer and caregivers. That's not even a complete list. Whew.
I do want to close out this final day in October reminding everyone that there is much work to be done. The only thing we are aware of is that October means races and pink ribbons. These are the words of someone I "met" on twitter:
It's time to change awareness to education and ribbons to research.
"Metastatic breast cancer can occur ANY time after original diagnosis, EVEN if initially Stage 0, I, II or III"
The post caused "outrage" and her entries were deleted. In addition, she was accused of spreading untruths. Since she doesn't know I am writing this blog, I will leave her anonymous unless she consents to being "outed."
When I got the name of the Facebook page, I posted a note and then put up a second post with a link to one of the Metastatic Breast Cancer organizations. Another blogger also added a very kindly worded post on the Facebook page with a link to her letter written to Komen about funding for research of metastatic breast cancer.
One of my posts is still on the FB page. Any other entries with links to PROVE the accuracy of that statement have been deleted. This "dust up" all occurred on the Facebook page of a UK Television Show called "Loose Women." Go find them on FB. The page is open to all. Better yet, google it. The first sentence in Wiki says:
It consists of a panel of four women who are brainless....
It bugs me when people who are IN THE POSITION to teach, to educate, to shine light on the facts choose to make believe the facts are lies. This goes beyond doing a disservice to the women who apparently adore this bunch. There are times when we can be helpful, there are times when we can be neither helpful nor harmful and then There Is This.
This is when harm is done. And I can't sit back and watch false information even lead ONE woman to believe she is safe because the "brainless women" said so. I happen to be very fond of a young mom whom I've known for more than half of her life. She lives in London. She has three young sons. And she has breast cancer. So, I sent a tweet to someone who might have some influence in the UK. We'll see what happens. In the meantime, in the words of one of another tweep (and as soon as I remember who said this, I will give them proper credit because I can't claim these words as mine):
You Can't Fix Stupid.
Friday, October 28, 2011
A SPECIAL VISIT
This is it. The final weekend of October madness. Then, life can return to normal. The problem? I don't think I know what "normal" means. And, I'm not going with "The New Normal." I'm getting cranky about certain phrases and THAT happens to be one of them. Seems almost oxymoronic. Can't quite get my brain to decide but I just know I've heard it so many times, it's become irritating.
What began in July as a means of, for lack of a better description, getting out of my own way in an attempt to find my way, has turned into a way of life. MY life.
I was born with this, "That's just not fair," thing ingrained in my personality. And, I get it. Life isn't fair. But some things are within our power and others are completely out of our control. The fact that I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Out of my control.
I know from support groups and from lots of the reading there are women who truly believe they could have prevented the disease. Fortunately, I am not in that group because honestly, I beat myself up about enough really REALLY stupid stuff. If I blamed myself for my breast cancer diagnosis, I'm pretty sure I would have already hurled myself from the roof of Sloan Kettering during one of my visits over the course of the past five years.
The fact that my marriage was unraveling at warp speed over these past 15 months? It took a bit of time, but for the first bunch of months, I DID blame myself for that. And then, I didn't. I did lots of introspective thinking. Yoga helped tremendously. Awareness. Finding that quiet place within myself to determine what rings true to me, for me, for my life. A great therapist helped me to keep things in perspective. Not gonna lie, a shot of tequila or vodka was definitely part of the mix plenty of times along the way. It wasn't all zen and psychobabble, it was fun and girlfriend power, too. It was a good balance. Mostly. Except for that night I found myself in the bar with those Jersey Shore guys. That was the "it's time to grow up already" awareness.
The marital situation is not something I was ever even comfortable mentioning, but we are working on "it" and whatever will happen, is going to happen. What I have taken away from the last 15 months is that I unknowingly began to follow the advice in the commencement address delivered by Steve Jobs at Stanford.
I was trapped and I didn't even realize it. Once I became aware I wasn't following that little voice inside me, I began to reach out in many directions. I took what was out of my control, my breast cancer diagnosis and I made a decision to turn the single most negative chapter of my life into "something." Somehow, I was going to make something lousy into something meaningful.
It began with this blog and then volunteering at the hospital and becoming a part of a twitter community and attending events to help grow the Army of Women..... How? Why now? What made me listen to my own intuition? Who the hell KNOWS! It may have been a meditative yoga moment, could have been an aha therapy moment but I'm thinking it was more along the lines of one of those brilliant ideas that come from a drunken stupor.
The thing is, I just went with "it" even if I am still not quite sure where "it" is taking me. I caught the wave and I'm still riding that wave. I have tentacles stretching in many directions but I'm confident my heart will lead me in the right direction. Hopefully, my brain will cooperate! I know I feel more fulfilled in that soulful kinda way than I think I have ever felt in my entire life.
The marital situation is not something I was ever even comfortable mentioning, but we are working on "it" and whatever will happen, is going to happen. What I have taken away from the last 15 months is that I unknowingly began to follow the advice in the commencement address delivered by Steve Jobs at Stanford.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped ... living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice, heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.
I was trapped and I didn't even realize it. Once I became aware I wasn't following that little voice inside me, I began to reach out in many directions. I took what was out of my control, my breast cancer diagnosis and I made a decision to turn the single most negative chapter of my life into "something." Somehow, I was going to make something lousy into something meaningful.
It began with this blog and then volunteering at the hospital and becoming a part of a twitter community and attending events to help grow the Army of Women..... How? Why now? What made me listen to my own intuition? Who the hell KNOWS! It may have been a meditative yoga moment, could have been an aha therapy moment but I'm thinking it was more along the lines of one of those brilliant ideas that come from a drunken stupor.
The thing is, I just went with "it" even if I am still not quite sure where "it" is taking me. I caught the wave and I'm still riding that wave. I have tentacles stretching in many directions but I'm confident my heart will lead me in the right direction. Hopefully, my brain will cooperate! I know I feel more fulfilled in that soulful kinda way than I think I have ever felt in my entire life.
Next week, coincidentally, I will be meeting the young lady who wrote that piece explaining how to let go and ride the wave. We've never spoken or skype'd. Our communication has been via email and twitter. She will be in NY because she had a thought and she went with it. She inspires me and her words continue to inspire me to just "go with it." Things that are all over the place will begin to gel together and the fuzziness will begin to come into focus. Just like they did for Terri.
Terri Wingham is one adventurous and courageous young woman. She took the concept of knowing what is within one's power to a level I can't even imagine!! Terri is in pursuit of her Big Hairy Audacious Dream and I can not wait to see the dream unfold.
When I grow up, IF I grow up, I want to be JUST LIKE HER.
Terri Wingham is one adventurous and courageous young woman. She took the concept of knowing what is within one's power to a level I can't even imagine!! Terri is in pursuit of her Big Hairy Audacious Dream and I can not wait to see the dream unfold.
When I grow up, IF I grow up, I want to be JUST LIKE HER.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
STICK A FORK IN ME-I'M DONE
I'm fried. Truly. Been a very long bunch of weeks. Drained physically. Drained emotionally. Drained intellectually. And, if I don't get to this slight bit of government paperwork for which I am still responsible, I will be causing a big financial drain, too.
Joking aside, the chemobrain has wreaked havoc in my office and now that is stressing me out which makes the focus and concentration that much more difficult. It's a vicious cycle. I hope to get someone in here to help me get things under control. I haven't paid a bill on time in at least two months. To truly appreciate the magnitude of that in my life? I was the person whose bank statements were reconciled TO THE PENNY every single month.
I am REQUIRED to attend jury duty tomorrow because I forgot (or lost) the last notice. I have no intention of showing up. My next entry may be from a jail cell. Oh wait. They will not let me have any internet time (guessing on that one, I've never been incarcerated). Frankly, I don't even care. It might have been a good idea to ask ONE of these doctors in whose offices I've been for the past three weeks to write a letter. I am so pissed off solely because this is ONE MORE THING I need to address. (Although you wouldn't know this, I happen to have just screamed at the top of my lungs. Sheer frustration.)
I want to be LEFT ALONE. I want to get into my office tomorrow and POOF, like magic.... have everything brought up to date so I can truly step away from any responsibilities. For now, this is the extent of what I can handle: Getting out of bed, showering, eating meals and really, that's about it. Laundry every so often. Keeping the house tidy because I don't like a mess.
Maybe I'm just having a bad day. Maybe I'm just crashing after a long month. Or maybe, it's time to just throw everything aside until the police show up with handcuffs or those other guys show up with that funny jacket. Either one of those places is more appealing than one more doctor office or for that matter, even ten minutes trying to sort out the mess in my own office.
ARRRGGGGGG....... Is it Friday night yet?
Rant over.
Joking aside, the chemobrain has wreaked havoc in my office and now that is stressing me out which makes the focus and concentration that much more difficult. It's a vicious cycle. I hope to get someone in here to help me get things under control. I haven't paid a bill on time in at least two months. To truly appreciate the magnitude of that in my life? I was the person whose bank statements were reconciled TO THE PENNY every single month.
I am REQUIRED to attend jury duty tomorrow because I forgot (or lost) the last notice. I have no intention of showing up. My next entry may be from a jail cell. Oh wait. They will not let me have any internet time (guessing on that one, I've never been incarcerated). Frankly, I don't even care. It might have been a good idea to ask ONE of these doctors in whose offices I've been for the past three weeks to write a letter. I am so pissed off solely because this is ONE MORE THING I need to address. (Although you wouldn't know this, I happen to have just screamed at the top of my lungs. Sheer frustration.)
I want to be LEFT ALONE. I want to get into my office tomorrow and POOF, like magic.... have everything brought up to date so I can truly step away from any responsibilities. For now, this is the extent of what I can handle: Getting out of bed, showering, eating meals and really, that's about it. Laundry every so often. Keeping the house tidy because I don't like a mess.
Maybe I'm just having a bad day. Maybe I'm just crashing after a long month. Or maybe, it's time to just throw everything aside until the police show up with handcuffs or those other guys show up with that funny jacket. Either one of those places is more appealing than one more doctor office or for that matter, even ten minutes trying to sort out the mess in my own office.
ARRRGGGGGG....... Is it Friday night yet?
Rant over.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
PROGRESS???? WHAT PROGRESS?????
Yesterday, I was delighted, thrilled, honored, flattered (pick one, pick all, add some more, too) to accept the invitation of Gayle Sulik to write an entry for her blog. I hope you will take the time to read it. The message is important. We have been buying pink forever. We have made NO PROGRESS with breast cancer.
Gayle is the author of Pink Ribbon Blues. The title speaks for itself. The link to the Amazon page is not a shameless ploy to suggest purchasing the book (even though I do have it on my iPad and it is an eye opener). The Amazon link is a one click look at all of the reviews written by both critics and readers. It's my way of saying, Attention Must Be Paid to Gayle's message. Pink has undermined everything. NO PROGRESS.
Go ahead. Quote me a statistic. Then, please go read the essay and poke around to read about Gayle and all that she has uncovered. I don't care what statistics get bantered about, in the Fog of CB, I can spot the truth. NO PROGRESS. What? You need to stick your hand into the wound to double check. Be My Guest. And then, do me a favor? Throw a heap of money on the table and I'll match it. Winner take all.
As the month of October in 2011 begins to wind down, have we learned anything different than what we knew last year, five years ago (there is a point in that-just hold your horses), twenty four years ago (there IS a point in that, too-repeating, hold your horses please)? We know we need mammographies. Yet, as more people stand up and take notice, even the screening is being called into question. My favorite line of the week (could be my favorite line to date) is in that article:
Yesterday, the thrill is still all about Gayle's invitation. In a poetic sort of way, it was fitting to be recognized yesterday. You see, yesterday was another of those cancerversaries. You know. Those dates we mark because, yes, they ARE that significant and yes, they were that frightening. Exactly five years ago, I sat in a very comfortable chair in lovely surroundings in that very pretty building with a needle in my arm dripping poison into my blood. The poison that rearranged my brain. October 25, 2006. Hey AnneMarie, this is your semi functioning brain wishing you a slightly belated Happy Fifth Chemoversary.
It is 24 years ago TODAY, that my mom entered cancer hell with the wire insertion "procedure" for the biopsy that would be performed the next day. She was slashed and then reslashed within weeks. Mom's first chemotherapy was on November 16, 1987. The needle was in her hand, the drugs were pushed (not dripped). And two of those drugs? Methotrexate and Fluorouracil.
Hey. I had a wire insertion procedure. I had a surgical biopsy. I had a mastectomy. I had methotrexate & fluouracil.
Twenty four YEARS have passed and the only difference in the treatment is an IV pole?
You MUST be kidding me. In the case of me and my mom, NOTHING has changed. Like I said. NO PROGRESS.
Gayle is the author of Pink Ribbon Blues. The title speaks for itself. The link to the Amazon page is not a shameless ploy to suggest purchasing the book (even though I do have it on my iPad and it is an eye opener). The Amazon link is a one click look at all of the reviews written by both critics and readers. It's my way of saying, Attention Must Be Paid to Gayle's message. Pink has undermined everything. NO PROGRESS.
Go ahead. Quote me a statistic. Then, please go read the essay and poke around to read about Gayle and all that she has uncovered. I don't care what statistics get bantered about, in the Fog of CB, I can spot the truth. NO PROGRESS. What? You need to stick your hand into the wound to double check. Be My Guest. And then, do me a favor? Throw a heap of money on the table and I'll match it. Winner take all.
As the month of October in 2011 begins to wind down, have we learned anything different than what we knew last year, five years ago (there is a point in that-just hold your horses), twenty four years ago (there IS a point in that, too-repeating, hold your horses please)? We know we need mammographies. Yet, as more people stand up and take notice, even the screening is being called into question. My favorite line of the week (could be my favorite line to date) is in that article:
We are not going to screen our way to a cure.
Can I Get an AMEN to THAT????
Yesterday, the thrill is still all about Gayle's invitation. In a poetic sort of way, it was fitting to be recognized yesterday. You see, yesterday was another of those cancerversaries. You know. Those dates we mark because, yes, they ARE that significant and yes, they were that frightening. Exactly five years ago, I sat in a very comfortable chair in lovely surroundings in that very pretty building with a needle in my arm dripping poison into my blood. The poison that rearranged my brain. October 25, 2006. Hey AnneMarie, this is your semi functioning brain wishing you a slightly belated Happy Fifth Chemoversary.
It is 24 years ago TODAY, that my mom entered cancer hell with the wire insertion "procedure" for the biopsy that would be performed the next day. She was slashed and then reslashed within weeks. Mom's first chemotherapy was on November 16, 1987. The needle was in her hand, the drugs were pushed (not dripped). And two of those drugs? Methotrexate and Fluorouracil.
Hey. I had a wire insertion procedure. I had a surgical biopsy. I had a mastectomy. I had methotrexate & fluouracil.
Twenty four YEARS have passed and the only difference in the treatment is an IV pole?
You MUST be kidding me. In the case of me and my mom, NOTHING has changed. Like I said. NO PROGRESS.
 |
You can release the horses now. They are tied to that IV pole in the corner.
Thanks to my superstar, superhero, super organized and SUPER CARETAKER dad, I have every single one of mom's records from 1987 which were of immeasurable help to OUR oncologist in 2007 when they found the new cancer in her other breast.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
GOAL!!!!!!!
I had a goal when I began blogging. I was determined to make a difference in the life of JUST one person. When I decided I was going to include myself as "just one person," I had a winning situation before I even posted the first entry. I think that was kinda sorta really VERY clever. I couldn't fail. No matter what I did, I set myself up for success. Immediate success.
Perhaps it was that "I can't lose attitude" that propelled me forward. I'm now all over the place. And I mean ALL over the place. A little reminder may be in order. This is AM in AD. I reside in what is aptly named for my circumstances despite the fact it is grammatically disgraceful. Anew Direction.
When the first person wrote that very first comment (and I was sure it wasn't a setup from my mom because, after all, that is most CERTAINLY something I would have done to boost my kid's confidence), I stared at the monitor with tears in my eyes. It was a simple sentence saying thank you because chemobrain was causing a problem for Sherry. She simply stated she could not seem to get her brain to function. In one short line, my real goal was achieved. Not that clever goal, but the idea that I was able to reach just one person and that one person was real and that one person knew she was NOT alone.
Weeks later when I saw another comment from someone in the UK who thanked me for "vindicating" her, I may have cried in a semi-uncontrollable fashion. She has been dealing with chemobrain since 2002. It wasn't that her comment was more powerful, it was reading that she has been living with this for so many years.
I know I am onto something. I can see the dozens of countries where this blog is being read and I'm pretty sure I don't have family on all of those continents. I've been contacted privately by a few people who I am sure are fearful of public admission of any sort of cognitive impairment. Careers are on the line and no better way to destroy a career than to give someone your own words on a silver platter so they may be twisted and used against you.
I got a bit sidetracked because I needed to make some noise about what is going on in the land of pink and the month of October. Since juggling is no longer part of my repertoire, I can't balance my irritation at pinkspectation I feel is placed squarely on the shoulders of those of us with breast cancer diagnoses, the fact that I am in the midst of my own doctor follow up season and my frustration when I am trying to understand the logic (or lack thereof) behind some of this October madness.
Shout out to NYS, too. Thanks for the summons for Jury Duty sandwiched in between two doctor appointments. Did you lose the letter from the doctor explaining I am a CANCER patient with NO working memory so how the F*&k do you think I am a candidate to be seated on a jury? Yes, I did need to add this sideshow to the mix. There isn't enough already heaped in my face. And yes, whatever small, minuscule responsibility I have in my former accounting life.... October 31? Not Halloween in these parts. That's a government deadline. Oh MY!
Add an unraveled marriage into the mix and how there may be the slightest attempt in play to put it back on track..... and the fear associated with "WTF should I do about that"........and then, just for fun...... how, at MY AGE, I found myself in a trendy NYC bar one evening only to have all of the male cast members of Jersey Shore saunter in......And I think, "Hey, didn't you post an entire entry poking fun at that show?" Chemobrain-cubed. The only thing missing from this mix is an appearance by Gaga serenading me so I can be certain I'm on the edge of something. Not too sure it's glory, feels more like a nervous breakdown, a train wreck or a life completely on auto pilot.
My brain may have abandoned me, but I haven't abandoned chemobrain. It just took a bit of a back seat for a spell.
Perhaps it was that "I can't lose attitude" that propelled me forward. I'm now all over the place. And I mean ALL over the place. A little reminder may be in order. This is AM in AD. I reside in what is aptly named for my circumstances despite the fact it is grammatically disgraceful. Anew Direction.
When the first person wrote that very first comment (and I was sure it wasn't a setup from my mom because, after all, that is most CERTAINLY something I would have done to boost my kid's confidence), I stared at the monitor with tears in my eyes. It was a simple sentence saying thank you because chemobrain was causing a problem for Sherry. She simply stated she could not seem to get her brain to function. In one short line, my real goal was achieved. Not that clever goal, but the idea that I was able to reach just one person and that one person was real and that one person knew she was NOT alone.
Weeks later when I saw another comment from someone in the UK who thanked me for "vindicating" her, I may have cried in a semi-uncontrollable fashion. She has been dealing with chemobrain since 2002. It wasn't that her comment was more powerful, it was reading that she has been living with this for so many years.
I know I am onto something. I can see the dozens of countries where this blog is being read and I'm pretty sure I don't have family on all of those continents. I've been contacted privately by a few people who I am sure are fearful of public admission of any sort of cognitive impairment. Careers are on the line and no better way to destroy a career than to give someone your own words on a silver platter so they may be twisted and used against you.
I got a bit sidetracked because I needed to make some noise about what is going on in the land of pink and the month of October. Since juggling is no longer part of my repertoire, I can't balance my irritation at pinkspectation I feel is placed squarely on the shoulders of those of us with breast cancer diagnoses, the fact that I am in the midst of my own doctor follow up season and my frustration when I am trying to understand the logic (or lack thereof) behind some of this October madness.
Shout out to NYS, too. Thanks for the summons for Jury Duty sandwiched in between two doctor appointments. Did you lose the letter from the doctor explaining I am a CANCER patient with NO working memory so how the F*&k do you think I am a candidate to be seated on a jury? Yes, I did need to add this sideshow to the mix. There isn't enough already heaped in my face. And yes, whatever small, minuscule responsibility I have in my former accounting life.... October 31? Not Halloween in these parts. That's a government deadline. Oh MY!
Add an unraveled marriage into the mix and how there may be the slightest attempt in play to put it back on track..... and the fear associated with "WTF should I do about that"........and then, just for fun...... how, at MY AGE, I found myself in a trendy NYC bar one evening only to have all of the male cast members of Jersey Shore saunter in......And I think, "Hey, didn't you post an entire entry poking fun at that show?" Chemobrain-cubed. The only thing missing from this mix is an appearance by Gaga serenading me so I can be certain I'm on the edge of something. Not too sure it's glory, feels more like a nervous breakdown, a train wreck or a life completely on auto pilot.
My brain may have abandoned me, but I haven't abandoned chemobrain. It just took a bit of a back seat for a spell.
Monday, October 24, 2011
REAL MEN JOIN ARMY OF WOMEN!
It’s been over a week since I attended the Avon Walk Pre Event in NYC. This post is very much overdue!
Having never attended a pink walk in my entire life (or any other walk come to think of it-I tend to be the armchair person), I had no idea what I might expect.
I know that anyone who has ever participated in these events talk about the powerful emotions they experience. I know that when I first sat down with my friend after being newly diagnosed, she (only half jokingly) asked what having breast cancer meant to her. “Does it mean I’m supposed to be running in some kind of a race?” (Today, as she progressed from Stage 1 to Stage 4 in little more than a year, those words hold a completely different meaning.)
I was at the event on behalf of the Army of Women and I am thrilled to say we were able to add over 200 new members. Many of the women were already members (after all, the AOW is the Love AVON Army of Women and this was the Avon Walk) and those who were not members graciously gave us their time as we explained exactly what they would be “joining.”
When I arrived to set up, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the room and the number of volunteers on behalf of Avon and the other sponsors whom I will refrain from listing I am sure I will forget many so I will simply stick with Avon as this is their signature event.
At 2PM sharp, the doors opened for the participants and the room erupted into cheers as the first group entered to begin the registration process. Many stopped by to share stories. Emotions were high. Every person had a story. There were lots of people. Translates to lots of stories and in my mind, that just means we need to get on a different bandwagon and start effecting some real change.
If any of you participated in an Avon Walk over the past several years, you will understand when I say that nothing touched me more than “Moo Cow Guy” and his absolute dedication to participating in every walk all over the country. Cow Guy, whose name is Seth came to the AOW table to talk about how he heard Susan Love speak many years ago. He was so impressed by her passion and determination, he felt he needed to do something to support her efforts.
As we were talking, I was stunned at the number of walkers who saw him in his cow gear and began shouting from across the room, “Moo Cow Guy!” They were running to hug him and talk about “that race four years ago” or remember when “we saw you in Chicago.” Seth is a special person in so many ways. He fund raises for the sole purpose of providing a cheering squad at every walk.
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| L-R: Me, Seth, Sharon |
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| Seth & Allison |
We chatted for a time. He told me he hoped he would have the chance to meet Dr. Love one day. When I told him I had the honor and privilege to meet her a few weeks ago, he was full of questions. He watched our interview clip and then he became the Cow Ambassador for the Army of Women. He never realized he could sign up for the Army and he was so enthusiastic to be one of the few good men. He bounced around running from one group to another. His joy was contagious. Silly though it may seem to some, anyone whose passion and sincerity eminates from a genuine place of love and hope is someone I want to be in my life.
I thank Avon for providing Army of Women to recruit at the event. I thank my fellow NY volunteers, Sharon (and her husband Elliot who joined us for a good part of the day) and Allison who not only helped recruit but also walked in the event on Saturday and Sunday.
And I thank Moo Cow Guy for being someone who truly makes me want to be a better person. Seth: Selfless and sincere. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Friday, October 21, 2011
THE ONION
With Proper Credit to The Onion for questioning how walking, running or cycling has ANY connection to cancer research. Or, for that matter, researching cures for any other diseases.........
Particularly noteworthy? The date of this article. These guys are on to something. From now on, The Onion is going to be my prime source for any and all news. In fact, it may become my sole source of news. If we paid closer attention to their reporters, we might be ten years ahead of the game.
Note: Emphasis on a particular sentence is MINE.
6,000 Runners Fail To Discover Cure For Breast Cancer
NOVEMBER 14, 2001
ISSUE 37•41
Race For The Cure runners take off in search of a breast-cancer cure.
ATLANTA—Despite their diligent, dedicated running, the 6,000-plus participants in Sunday's 5K Race For The Cure did not find a cure for breast cancer.
Hopes were high, given the excellent weather and record turnout for the 11th annual event, but no viable cure for the disease was discovered along the 3.1-mile course.
"We were particularly hopeful of locating the cure somewhere around the two-and-a-half-mile mark," race organizer Jill Broadbent said. "At that point, the route goes right past Northside Hospital and within a block of several Emory University oncology facilities. That seemed the most promising place to perhaps spot a breast-cancer cure. Regrettably, the runners were unable to do more than momentarily glimpse in researchers' windows as they passed by."
At 10 a.m., participants gathered outside the Georgia Dome and proceeded to search through much of downtown Atlanta, including a one-mile stretch of Peachtree Road, before finishing cureless at the state capitol.
Among those disappointed by Sunday's failed attempt was Gene Worth, a Germantown, TN, real-estate agent who drove 450 miles to participate in his seventh Race For The Cure.
"I worked out for three months, focusing my full energies on preparing for this race," Worth said. "I switched to a vegan macrobiotic diet just to be in top shape. Three kilometers in, I felt great, like this was going to be the year we cured it. I did break my personal 5K record, but even that wasn't enough. Then, after I crossed the finish line, I watched other racers finish, but they came in empty-handed, as well."
Broadbent was quick to dispute characterizations of the run as a failure.
"As we like to say, today brought us one 5K run closer to the cure," Broadbent said. "We may not have cured it yet, but one of these times, we will. When faced with a setback like this, we need to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and run another five kilometers."
Added Broadbent: "If even one patient went into remission as a result of thousands of people running around Atlanta, then it's all worth it."
The race was the latest disappointment in a dismal two-week stretch for athletic-based medical research. On Nov. 1 in Dallas, an estimated 3,000 cyclists were unable to isolate the portion of the human genome responsible for Alzheimer's disease. Three days later in Boston, some 200 rowers from 27 different colleges gathered on the Charles River in an unsuccessful attempt to eliminate AIDS. And a pair of Nov. 9 regattas in San Diego and Miami failed to cure cystic fibrosis and heart disease, respectively.
Runs against cancer and other diseases have been popular since 1976, when Olympic runner Bill Rodgers discovered the formula for Interferon Beta—effective in the treatment of multiple sclerosis—at the base of Nobska Point Lighthouse while running the Falmouth (MA) Road Race. Rodgers went on to win the Nobel Prize For Medicine for his discovery, despite losing the race itself to Alberto Salazar.
Credit: The Onion
America's Finest News Source
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
SOMETIMES THE PICTURE IS THE STORY
It doesn't matter how beautiful the facility is or that there is a valet ready to help you out your car.
It doesn't matter that the people inside this building are some of the kindest, compassionate and skilled human beings on the planet.
What does matter?
This is the building into which I hobbled in April of 2006 to drop off films for a radiologist to review.
This is the building where two separate office biopsies were performed in May of that same year.
This is the building where I met with a breast surgeon in June of 2006 to schedule a surgical biopsy to remove atypia which was almost certainly just abnormal cells.
This is the building where I was told "You have cancer" in July.
This is the building where I met with genetics in August to discuss BRCA testing and the subsequent inconclusive results.
This is the building where I went with my mom and my dearest friend in September to meet my oncologist.
And in October of 2006, this is the building where I would begin my chemotherapy journey to make sure any rogue cells would be (hopefully) destroyed.
And on October 18th, 2011, this is the building from which I exited, exactly one week prior to the Fifth Anniversary of the commencement of "Let's Poison AnneMarie."
Five years ago, a petrified patient.
And this is what a "survivor" looks like during follow up exam time.
This is what a survivor feels like waiting for results DESPITE their stage at diagnosis or their statistical prognosis.
At follow up time, statistics don't matter. This is the face of a survivor. Still petrified.
Monday, October 17, 2011
MENTAL GYMNASTICS, ROUND 3
Today I have my final Brain Evaluation. Since my brain was reduced to mush over the weekend, I fully expect I am going to perform horribly on the tests.
First, I had what I would describe as a rather monumental marital issue which has reduced me to a non functional heap of pretty deep pain, and seriously, I need to understand WTF is wrong with me to even ENTERTAIN a conversation with that guy but I'm still going to leave it at that. Can't share, not ready, might be ready but too painful, may never be ready-too humiliating.... not sure AT ALL.
Item B? My daughter's surprise visit. She lives in Nashville. It was so good to hear her voice as she came through the door and it felt great to give her a giant hug. Sounds like it was pretty great, don't ya think? And, it was. Right up until she started to say words like BRCA test and information someone gave her about removing her ovaries to reduce her breast cancer risk by a certain percentage.
I don't know what she said the percentage was and I do know that BRCA testing is useless since neither of my BRCA mutations are known or identified cancer causers. I just remember saying she was too young to consider removing her ovaries. She said she wasn't thinking of doing that, but clearly, she had this conversation with someone. Clearly, she is concerned. Clearly, it's far easier to wrap her brain around removing her ovaries (at 26 years old) than it is to let her mind go "there."
Clearly, I am absolutely sick to my stomach at the thought of what is going on in her head. That was Saturday. The marital bullshit was on Sunday and it was epic. THAT was a kick in the stomach and a punch to the head.
Sleep came somewhere around 3AM and I am heading off to an evaluation shortly. Can I POSSIBLY get this shit out of my head and focus? I can't focus when I have zilch on my plate and now I have two major emotional and stressful distractions to pile on the heap. Yay Me. YAY. YAY. YAY.....
Let's just continue in the theme of things that create stress in the lives of the cancer people...... I mean, as long as I'm on this path anyway, let's just keep it coming. Still wondering about the low grade fever and thinking about the antibiotics that had to be changed. What is going on and WHY am I still not right? I'm going with, "There's a bug going around." And that would be just fine, EXCEPT:
Tomorrow, I have my routine oncology appointment. Those looming appointments ALWAYS screw with my head. Even though I fully expect everything is fine and will stay fine, unless, of course, I do have leukemia...... oncology appointments require no further elaboration/explanation. If you get it, you get it. And if you don't, you never will. And hopefully, you never WILL. This club is big
e-f'ing-nough.
The point? If this is the only entry on this blog the entire week, I'm cutting myself a wide path of slack.
I DO want to share the amazing experience I had kicking off the NY Avon Walk. I met some wonderful people from all over (including a woman from Australia) and Cow Guy (you'll have to wait, I have pictures and HE is an unbelievable human being). It was emotional and I wasn't really part of the event. I was there to recruit for Army of Women. And, I'm happy to share that over 200 people signed up. And a handful of those people were men. Real men can join the Army of WOMEN. Cow Guy is definitely a real man. And I do promise to share the wonderful day I had in the heart of NYC, as soon as my brain re-enters my head.
First, I had what I would describe as a rather monumental marital issue which has reduced me to a non functional heap of pretty deep pain, and seriously, I need to understand WTF is wrong with me to even ENTERTAIN a conversation with that guy but I'm still going to leave it at that. Can't share, not ready, might be ready but too painful, may never be ready-too humiliating.... not sure AT ALL.
Item B? My daughter's surprise visit. She lives in Nashville. It was so good to hear her voice as she came through the door and it felt great to give her a giant hug. Sounds like it was pretty great, don't ya think? And, it was. Right up until she started to say words like BRCA test and information someone gave her about removing her ovaries to reduce her breast cancer risk by a certain percentage.
I don't know what she said the percentage was and I do know that BRCA testing is useless since neither of my BRCA mutations are known or identified cancer causers. I just remember saying she was too young to consider removing her ovaries. She said she wasn't thinking of doing that, but clearly, she had this conversation with someone. Clearly, she is concerned. Clearly, it's far easier to wrap her brain around removing her ovaries (at 26 years old) than it is to let her mind go "there."
Clearly, I am absolutely sick to my stomach at the thought of what is going on in her head. That was Saturday. The marital bullshit was on Sunday and it was epic. THAT was a kick in the stomach and a punch to the head.
Sleep came somewhere around 3AM and I am heading off to an evaluation shortly. Can I POSSIBLY get this shit out of my head and focus? I can't focus when I have zilch on my plate and now I have two major emotional and stressful distractions to pile on the heap. Yay Me. YAY. YAY. YAY.....
Let's just continue in the theme of things that create stress in the lives of the cancer people...... I mean, as long as I'm on this path anyway, let's just keep it coming. Still wondering about the low grade fever and thinking about the antibiotics that had to be changed. What is going on and WHY am I still not right? I'm going with, "There's a bug going around." And that would be just fine, EXCEPT:
Tomorrow, I have my routine oncology appointment. Those looming appointments ALWAYS screw with my head. Even though I fully expect everything is fine and will stay fine, unless, of course, I do have leukemia...... oncology appointments require no further elaboration/explanation. If you get it, you get it. And if you don't, you never will. And hopefully, you never WILL. This club is big
e-f'ing-nough.
The point? If this is the only entry on this blog the entire week, I'm cutting myself a wide path of slack.
I DO want to share the amazing experience I had kicking off the NY Avon Walk. I met some wonderful people from all over (including a woman from Australia) and Cow Guy (you'll have to wait, I have pictures and HE is an unbelievable human being). It was emotional and I wasn't really part of the event. I was there to recruit for Army of Women. And, I'm happy to share that over 200 people signed up. And a handful of those people were men. Real men can join the Army of WOMEN. Cow Guy is definitely a real man. And I do promise to share the wonderful day I had in the heart of NYC, as soon as my brain re-enters my head.
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