Hurricane Sandy

Hurricane Sandy has come and gone, and we're all still dealing with the after effects.  It feels a little post apocalyptic with long lines of cars snaking down the highways leading up to gas stations, the loud hum of generators running outside, the roar of chainsaws on every street as people clear away downed trees and damaged tree limbs.  There are still a lot of people without power.  The Jersey shore is a huge mess which is going to take a long time to fix (although I heartily believe it will be fixed, we're a hardy bunch, us Jersey-ites). 

But.....I'm going to go out on a limb here (pun intended) and admit that we actually started to have fun during the whole out-of-power thing.  The first day wasn't fun - we hadn't figured out what to do, how to handle the no power thing.   Plus it was kind of scary and we didn't know how long it was going to last and it was starting to get pretty cold.

But then we started to slowly but surely figure out how to become a bit self reliant.  We have a gas stove, so turns out I could make coffee, tea and stove top food like pasta, eggs, etc. on the stove top.  And it turns out that when you have town water, your toilets and water will work, so we could flush (which was, for some reason, a big worry of mine) and we had water to wash the dishes after we cooked.  We could even take showers (albeit cold ones) if we chose.  We had stocked up on batteries, and charged our phones on the day before Sandy hit, so we had enough light to help us through the scariness of the pitch black nights.

Then on day 2 1/2, Mike figured out how to get the 2 gas fireplaces going and the fire in the family room and living room was not only great to warm up the house, but it turned those 2 rooms into the family center where we all sat and read, or napped and just generally hung out together. 

We started to fall into a rhythm of going to bed early and getting up early, cooking on the stove top, doing dishes manually (horrors, brought back memories of childhood when we had no dishwasher), and then figuring out what we would do with the rest of our day since we had no technological distractions to keep us occupied.  Turns out there's a lot more time in the day to do things, when you don't have technology to rely on. 

We cleaned up all the downed tree limbs, and Mike caught up on lots of yard work.  We took Tucker on long walks.  I cleaned out the frig (first time it's been this clean since the day we moved in 14 years ago), cleaned all the bathrooms, straightened out my office and the kitchen cabinets.  We visited friends who had power and who were kind enough to share the wealth with us.  Kyra and I sat around reading with my mother in law, in front of the fire, covered in warm blankets and reading by the light of the day.  We dozed a bit here and there; turns out you sleep more when it's really cold (who knew).  We spent more time together as a family than we have in ages (except on vacation). 

It all felt very House on the Prairie-ish, and I was starting to like it.  Neighbors were helpful, everyone helped out and shared what they had with each other, we all came together and it felt like a community.  I kept thinking it reminded me of how things felt post 9/11. 

Then just when we'd figured it all out, the power came back on.  And now, to be honest, life has started to get a little hectic again.  It was a nice lesson to learn, that we can all exist without our computers, cell phones, TV's and IPads.  I felt a little wistful when everyone went back to their separate bedrooms to read or watch TV or surf on their respective laptops.  But there's still a bit of residual family togetherness going on.  Since the kids still don't have school, we've been watching movies and eating dinners together every night for the last week (not the norm with the usual after school things they usually have to do) and baking cookies here and there. 

I feel extraordinarily lucky that we only had a few days of lost power.  Hope everyone without power gets it back soon, it's starting to get really cold at night.  If you're in the neighborhood, feel free to come on over, the spare bedroom is ready for visitors, and chocolate chip cookies are in the oven.

“Tough times don't last, tough people do, remember?”
―    Gregory Peck

Baby rabbits in the front yard

Here's the tale of the baby bunnies in our front yard.  Yeah, sounds awfully corny to me too, but I'll try not to go all maudlin on you.  To set up the background, we've had a rabbit hole smack dab in the middle of our front yard for years, with nary a rabbit in sight other than the occasional full grown one hopping around at night once every few months, which I see when I take Tucker out for his last bathroom break of the day.  It's not a very deep hole, and it sure appears to have been empty for years.

The kids (whose job it is to mow the lawn, now that they're teens and all) mow the grass every few weeks and we've never seen a rabbit in there, or had any lawn mower/rabbit mishaps over the years. 

Then (drumroll), this holiday weekend, as I was upstairs cleaning out a room (I've been in full-on "let's clean out all the stuff from the house" mode lately), my now 6'1" freshman son bounded up the stairs and burst into the room to announce, "I was mowing the grass and I mowed over a rabbit's nest and there are bunnies all over the front lawn and I mowed over one."  UH OH. 

I gulped and ran downstairs to survey the scene.  There on the front lawn are my husband, my son and 3 tiny, little 2 inch sized newborn bunnies, all in various states of distress.  There was one very sad and sorry looking little injured bunny underneath the tree, about a foot away from the nest, whose head was pretty messed up.   Full disclosure: it was pretty horrific, the skin was all pulled back and there was a lot of raw, red skin showing.  I was pretty freaked out and at first glance I thought this one was a goner and was going to die in another minute or two.  But then I noticed it was still breathing and still moving around a bit, and looking pretty darned alert for a creature who'd just had a lawn mower run over it's head. 

Then, I saw the other one who was sitting outside of the nest about a yard away, completely frozen, not moving, statue like.  Then there was another who was darting all the heck over the place, and running feverishly all around the lawn in a panic.

My husband was standing nearby, with a large broom, shouting out orders about calling the police and what should we do and let's do something soon!  So, I ran inside and called the police who, because I live in Mayberry RFD-like, bucolic little Clinton NJ, told me to call the local animal shelter, and then said they'd send their "wildlife officer" over to help.  Who knew we had an officer dedicated to wildlife in our tiny little town?

I called the animal shelter and they said they'd take the injured one (as soon as I saw it, I had decided immediately that if that sucker was gonna' die, it wasn't gonna die on our lawn in front of my impressionable 14 year old son, and if it had any chance in hell, I was sure going to try and save the poor little thing).  Then I asked them what they thought we should do with the other two? 

After all, we still had to get the lawn cut and all and how could we with these teeny, tiny, adorable little baby rabbits running all over the place!?  I'd always heard that if you touch a wild animal baby, the mother will abandon it, and asked the girl at the shelter what I should do with them.  She said that was an old wives tale and that I should just pick them up and put them back in the nest.  Hmmmmm.......easier said than done.  Those little suckers ran awfully fast.  So there I was running around the yard after them, trying to pick them up; dodging back and forth as the fast one zigged and zagged all over the front yard trying to escape my clutches.

I got the slower of the two and put him (her?) back in the nest and he/she promptly popped back out and hopped over and froze in position on the ground like a statue again.  Then I put her/him back in again and she popped back out again and then I put her back in and put some of her mothers fur from the nest back on top of her, and she finally stayed in the nest.  But the other one was still racing all over the place and literally popped back out of that nest 4 or 5 times before he finally proceeded to run and hide in the bushes in front of our house.

At that point about 15 minutes had gone by and I figured I'd better attend to the injured one and let the two healthy ones fend for themselves for now.  In the meantime, the Clinton town wildlife officer had pulled up and seemed completely flummoxed about what to do.  He kind of just stood there, without any idea of what to do other than to hand me a pair of rubber gloves to lift up the injured-head little bunny, so I went and fixed a little box up with a bunch of grass for bedding, gently placed the injured one in, and set off with my son for the animal shelter. 

When we got there about 15 minutes later, I told them the saga and the woman started to go on and on about how it was a holiday weekend, and they'd have to take it to another animal habitat that actually had a doctor, but since it was a holiday weekend, she didn't know who could take it and it could take a while, yadda-yadda-yadda, and meanwhile our little friend, the injured-head bunny, is laying in his box looking sorrier and sorrier, and I finally just cut her off and said "Well, where IS the place with the doctor, and why can't WE just take the rabbit there?" at which point she looked at me as if that was a novel idea, and then gave me the address for the wild life habitat with the vet. 

So off we went down another long winding road, to another dirt road, to another ramshackle little office in the back of a farm-like area, where we finally found a perfectly lovely person behind a desk in an office with all sorts of medical equipment which certainly looked official to me.  And she was happy as can be to take in our poor little injured-head bunny and even said, "It's very positive that he's so alert and still moving around at this point (which was about 45 minutes after the lawn mower incident)," and she seemed to think that perhaps our little friend might make it. 

My son and I went back home, and I think we both felt a little better.  We weren't really sure if the little guy was going to make it, but we sure gave it a hell of a shot and went all over creation trying to make sure he got the help he needed.  It was a nice little bonding expedition; we sort of connected in a way that is rare now that he's a high school freshman.  And then that night, I went to see Bruce Springsteen in Philly.  And, as you can see, the little bunny incident with my son made a greater impression on me than the Boss did (even though it was a great concert and he played for 4 hours straight).   

"People's dreams are made out of what they do all day. The same way a dog that runs after rabbits will dream of rabbits. It's what you do that makes your soul, not the other way around."
-- Barbara Kingsolver

How to determine whether or not to have a mastectomy

There's not too much I'm happy about when it comes to having had a mastectomy, but after reading this article, I will say I'm really relieved that I decided to have the bilateral done, even after both my surgeon and oncologist told me that it wasn't a mandatory decision.  The article, published in the BMJ (British Medical Journal) is based on a study conducted by a team led by Dr. David A. Cromwell of the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.  They studied the records of over 55,000 women who had breast conserving surgery in England and the report found that over 11,000 (20%) of them had at least one reoperation.  That's a rate of one in five women undergoing breast conserving surgery versus a mastectomy, who required at least one second operation within 3 months. 

And apparently, the rates in the US are a bit higher.  A study in the Journal of the American Medical Association, of 4 large US hospitals in February of this year, reported that 23% of patients receiving breast conserving surgery in the US underwent a reoperation.

I thought I'd share the process that I went through for anyone reading, who is faced with the conundrum of whether or not to have a single vs bilateral mastectomy.  It was probably the hardest decision I had to make during the entire process.  Chemo was a given for me, once I saw the results of my pathology report, and the decision there wasn't whether or not to do it, but how aggressive to go.  Once I found the right oncologist, the two of us came up with a regimen that was aggressive, but palatable for me, and I was pretty comfortable with that (as comfortable as I could be about agreeing to have 3 different toxic chemicals intravenously injected into my arm 18 times over 5 1/2 months, what a weird concept). 

The option for a single vs. bilateral mastectomy was a lot harder choice for me.  I got a second opinion, and asked each of my doctors, "What would you tell your own wife (or mother in the case of the young doc who wasn't married, or yourself, in the case of my female breast surgeon) if she was in my shoes."  They all said it was a personal choice and that I'd have to ultimately weigh the positive vs. negative implications.  One doc said it to me in these terms, which helped me make the final decision:  "You need to weigh it out and decide what you can ultimately live with.  If you don't do both, will you be able to live with the worry each year when you go for a mammogram on the non operated breast?  If you do elect to have a bilateral mastectomy, will the discomfort and trauma of losing both breasts be worth the peace of mind you'll have knowing that the risk of recurrence is reduced?"

I'm a worrier.  I'm also a Libra, so I constantly weigh out the pros and cons of every decision.  So that resonated with me.  I knew that with my Oncotype DX test score of 24% chance of a recurrence, I would begin to obsess and worry about a recurrence and from what I've learned it appears that the 2nd breast is one of the first places a recurrence will show up.  Liver, lung, bone is not too far behind, but if I could reduce my risk of recurrence by having a bilateral vs single mastectomy, that began to guide me as I narrowed my choices over the months during which I made this decision.

And then I called my plastic surgeons office and asked what the recovery time was for reconstructing one breast, vs. two and they said that it was pretty much the same recovery time.  That kind of sealed the deal for me.  If I was going to be out of commission for 3 months whether I had one done or two, then why not just do both and be done with it. 

By the way, both my breast surgeon and my oncologist both told me afterwards that they think I made the right choice.  I'm now about a year and a half out from when I had my final reconstructive surgery and I'm pretty used to my new body.  I don't regret the decision and have to be honest and admit that my new boobs look nicer than my old ones (hard to admit, but true).  I'm more proportioned, and the fact that I can wear halter tops in the summer without a bra, is pretty nice. 

Again, I'm on my soapbox, but please be involved in the decisions you make when you are facing breast cancer (or any other illness).  My doctors continually reinforced with me that this was my decision, but if I hadn't asked, they would not have done a bilateral and I would probably be back into surgery again for my right breast sometime in the next few years, as the final pathology report of my mastectomy showed pre-cancerous cells in the right breast.  So, ask a LOT of questions and be an active participant in the decision making process. 

"One must not forget that recovery is brought about not by the physician, but by the sick man himself.  He heals himself, by his own power, exactly as he walk by means of his own power, or eats, or thinks, breathes or sleeps."  --  Georg Groddeck

My Daughter and The Relay For Life

Last Friday night, after a particularly whirlwind week fraught with lots of ups and downs and drama, my husband and I went out for dinner and then went to pick up my daughter afterwards at about 10:00PM, from her high school.  She'd stayed after school to participate in a Relay For Life event and while I knew a little about it, I didn't really have too many expectations.  Other than the fact that it was a walk/run for cancer I didn't really know too much about it.

Then we got there.  It was pitch dark on the football field and I couldn't find her, but they were starting a silent walk around the football field in honor of the families and friends who had experience with cancer. There were luminaries lining the field, and there were groups of high school kids walking around the field in silence. It was a pretty spiritual and awe inspiring sight.  I grabbed my husbands hand and we joined them in silence, walking the field, just experiencing the silence and the solidarity with the kids. I was so moved.

At the end of the walk, I spotted my daughter and ran up to her and we hugged and hugged and then her  friend whose mom also had breast cancer ran up to me and said "Oh Mrs. T, I bought a luminary in your honor," and I started crying but in such a good way.  It was very, very special and very, very moving and all so unexpected.  I love my daughter so much for bringing the moment into my life.

"Daughters are angels sent from above to fill our hearts with unending love." -- Unknown

Is My Cancer Different? - New Website

GE Healthcare recently launched a new website that encourages cancer patients to ask their medical team the question "Is My Cancer Different?" in order to ensure that they are given information about advanced diagnostic testing that may help them in their decisions on how to treat their specific cancer. 

The site includes videos, downloads and very simple to understand information on the evolution of targeted and genetic molecular therapy cancer treatments.  It features cancer experts who speak in laymans terms so that the information is very easy to follow and understand.  There's also a glossary of terms which will be helpful as you're navigating your way through your treatment options.

After I was diagnosed, I was very lucky to quickly meet with my hospital breast cancer coordinator who told me about the Oncotype DX test, which is helpful for women who have early (Stage 1 or 2), node-negative, ER positive breast cancer.  The Oncotype DX test looks at a sample of your breast tissue to analyze the activity of 21 different genes and then provides a report on the likelihood of your breast cancer recurring, as well as whether or not you would benefit from chemotherapy.  It's exactly the type of personalized genetic test that the site www.ismycancerdifferent.com will help you understand and explore.

When I received my pathology report, it showed that my breast cancer was Stage 1, ER and PR Positive, node negative, and Grade 3.  The Stage of breast cancer is based on the size of the tumor, whether it's invasive or non-invasive and whether or not it has spread to your lymph nodes.  The Grade of a tumor is based on how abnormal the cancer cells look under a microscope and how fast they are growing.  My cancer had been found early (Stage 1) and had no lymph node involvement, yet had a high Grade, which meant it was agressive and showed highly irregular growth. Because of this there was some question about whether or not I was going to need chemotherapy or not.  So I elected to do the Oncotype DX test to help me in my decision about whether or not I was going to do chemo, and what type of regimen I should follow.

The results of my Oncotype DX test were disturbing, but ultimately beneficial.  I scored a 36 out of 50 and had a 24% chance of recurrence.  It was very clear to me after receiving these results that I absolutely needed to proceed with chemotherapy.  I also recognized that I was going to need a more agressive regimen than I had originally hoped for.  While I wasn't happy about any of this, I felt very solid and sure in my decision to proceed with the chemo regimen I eventually followed because I had the added benefit of the results from the Oncotype test.  The fact that this test was based on my specific tumor and my 21 different genes, made the results and the treatment path much clearer for me.

I was very fortunate to have learned about the availability of the Oncotype DC test from the breast care coordinator at my hospital.  But not every hospital has someone quite as wonderful as Pam to help you navigate the system.  The site www.ismycancerdifferent.com can be a very helpful resource for anyone trying to navigate through their own cancer treatment options.  The more informed you are, the better your final outcome will be.  It's very important to be an informed patient; it's critically important to your eventual well being to learn all that you can about your treatment options. This site can help.

"Take care of your body with steadfast fidelity. The soul must see through these eyes alone, and if they are dim, the whole world is clouded." -- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Komen Controversy

I've tried so hard to stay out of this whole Komen controversy.  But it just keeps building and growing and I feel like I need to weigh in with my thoughts on the issue.

I met Nancy Brinker.  I ran a cause related marketing campaign that supported The Race for The Cure (when it was still called that), about 10 years ago when I was still working in corporate America.  The campaign that I ran was one of the most fulfilling programs I'd ever worked on in my life.  Our sales and marketing teams loved the cause, and were highly involved, primarily because many of them had been impacted by breast cancer in their lives.  They had sisters, mothers, wives who'd had breast cancer and there were also a few women in the organization who were survivors, themselves.  So the program resonated with them, and the amount of passion that they brought to this effort was something I'd never experienced in my entire career.  I personally was very moved to be a part of this effort, and felt that I was doing something worthwhile that was making a positive impact.

I invited Ms. Brinker to come and speak to our sales and marketing teams at one of our national sales meetings.  She came and spoke and was very eloquent.  But, she wasn't warm or particularly friendly, wasn't someone I felt that I could connect with, and in fact appeared to be a bit of a Dallas socialite, to me.  I didn't really like her.  But after meeting her, it was clear to me that this was her true personal mission and I was clear that she had an intense focus on patient advocacy and a laser focus on finding a cure for breast cancer.  She wasn't doing this for personal aggrandizement, this was her own personal commitment to fulfill her promise to her sister. 

Fast forward to last year.  After my own diagnosis, I had a lot of time to read during all the 3+ hour chemo treatments and post surgical recovery time, and I read her 2011 autobiography, Promise Me where I learned for the first time that Nancy Brinker also had breast cancer.  Her sister Suzy, died of breast cancer at 36, Nancy was diagnosed in her 40's and later had a recurrence and subsequently a bilateral mastectomy.  She still struggles today with the side effects of lymphedema from the lymph nodes removed during her surgeries.  The book also shares, very candidly, her struggles with dyslexia.  She talks about Suzy and how friendly and funny Suzy was, almost wistfully, noting that she herself wasn't very fun, but was always the serious one. 

Now, let me say for the record (in case you haven't figured it out yet) that I am a Democrat and consider myself to be very liberal in my political leanings.  Nancy Brinker is a Texas Republican who supported the Bushes.  So, I've always had mixed feelings about her and this recent Komen/Planned Parenthood controversy didn't really surprise me, although it has disappointed me tremendously. 

BUT.  The woman has done a lot for me, personally.

Since their start in 1982, the Komen Foundation has raised over $1.9 Billion dollars for breast cancer research and treatment.   That money has changed the medical industry's approach to how they treat and care for breast cancer patients.  I can't stand Nancy Brinker's politics, but I would be a hypocrite if I were to completely dismiss all of the good that she's done, which has benefited ME, simply because I dislike her political affiliation.

I benefited from that money in many ways during my year and a half of breast cancer treatment. Because of the money and the work that came out of the Komen Foundation, I received my care at a hospital that had it's own Breast Cancer Center that was completely focused on my health and well being.  The facility was welcoming and comforting and I received the best of care.  Before Nancy Brinker started her focus on breast cancer patient advocacy, there were no breast cancer centers, nor were there breast cancer center nurse coordinators to help provide us with education and information about our treatment options, and to help us navigate this very complicated treatment system (diagnosis, surgery, post surgical reconstruction, chemo treatment options, radiation, etc.). 

A lot is being said about how Komen is only focused on awareness, that not enough money goes into research, and many are saying that awareness is high already and everyone knows about breast cancer.  I beg to differ.   I still talk to women now, who are frighteningly unaware of how to do self exams, how often to go for a mammogram, what their own risk factor is and who have little or no knowledge about their treatment options if diagnosed. 

So, for those of you who are so quick to rage against Komen about the Planned Parenthood controversy, just take a moment to think about how you, personally, have already benefited from the money and focus that Komen has put on breast cancer.  Nancy Brinker's legacy has been ruined and she will never be able to recover from that.  People are now calling for her resignation from the Komen foundation.  I can't even imagine what it would be like to focus your whole life on something that you truly feel passionately about, and then have it destroyed like this.   

I for one owe her a debt of gratitude.  I can only imagine how horrible it was for Suzy Komen when she was going through breast cancer back in the 80's.  And I am grateful that her sister took on that promise and that I benefited from it during my own recent experience.  She may not be the woman I would have chosen to be my friend, but she certainly has helped me in ways that I could never have imagined.  What's the old adage, "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater?"  Perhaps we could apply that to this situation.  Certainly the Komen Foundation is going to go through a huge overhaul.  Perhaps they will never recover.  But many of us have already benefited from what they've done, and I would just ask people to remember that.

"Without forgiveness life is governed by....an endless cycle of resentment and retaliation."

-- Roberto Assagioli

New Swedish Study Released on Dense Breasts

There was an article in today's US News and World Report about dense breasts called Dense Breasts May Be Linked to Cancer Recurrence.  It reports on a Swedish study, presented on Wednesday at the European Breast Cancer Conference in Vienna, that found that women with dense breasts had nearly twice the risk of recurrence, either in the same breast or in surrounding lymph nodes, than women with less dense breasts.  I'm still so interested in this whole breast density thing, since I never even knew I had dense breasts until I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010.   During the many mammograms I've had over the years, not one doctor ever told me that I had dense breasts, until it came up during my bc diagnosis.

The Swedish study shows that women with a PD (percentage density) of 25% or more have an almost twofold increased risk of recurrence in the breast and surrounding lymph nodes than women with a PD of less than 25%. 

Some good news - the Swedish study found that breast density does NOT increase the risk of mestastasis, and also has no negative effect on survival.  The study reviewed mammograms and treatment results for almost 1,800 postmenopausal women (ages 50-74) from a large study of women diagnosed with breast cancer in Sweden between 1993 and 1995.  It also suggests that breast density should be taken into account when determining adjuvant (secondary, i.e. chemo or radiation) treatment and follow up routines if a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer.

I just think we should know this stuff about our own bodies.  Since it's not legally required that doctors tell you if you have dense breasts or not (for no valid reason that I can figure), I would encourage women to ask for their breast percentage density (PD) when they get their annual mammogram. 

If your doctor tells you that you do have dense breasts, I strongly recommend that you ask them to help you create a personal screening plan to ensure that you are being as vigilant as possible regarding your breast health.  One of the concerns with dense breasts is that it's harder to find a lump in a breast that is dense as they may not show up in your regular mammogram.  I can state that as a fact, given my own situation.  A breast MRI is highly sensitive and will pick up almost any tumor (although you should also know that they often show false positives). 

One of my favorite breast cancer sites Breastcancer.org (so very helpful and informative) suggests that you and your doctor develop a personal screening plan to include:

• A monthly breast self-exam
• A yearly breast exam by your doctor
• A digital mammogram* every year starting at age 40

*Digital mammography is better than film mammography in women with dense breasts, regardless of age.

Your personal screening plan also may include the following tests to detect any cancer as early as possible:

• MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) of the breast
• Ultrasound of the breast

Information is power, and I hope that you women reading find this information helpful and are motivated to ask the right questions of your doctors so that you will have the care that you deserve.

"The only medicine for suffering, crime and all the other woes of mankind, is wisdom."

--Thomas Huxley

Morning Rituals

Here's my morning breakfast.  I am nothing if not a creature of habit.  I'm a big tea drinker and much prefer tea to coffee especially in the morning.  So much more gentle and nurturing for something you do first thing each morning, than the harsh and bitter taste of coffee.  Then, of course, there's my ever present oatmeal.  Yes, I confess, it's the packaged kind that you make with boiling water that takes about 30 seconds to make and probably has no nutritional value whatsoever, but I'm addicted to it and have had it every morning for so many years now, that I can't even remember how long it's been.

Then there's my morning pills.  I've taken to calling them my little army.  They're the vitamins and Tamoxifen that are supposed to help me fight a recurrence of breast cancer.  I find it very humorous to think that something as ominous and life threatening as a recurrence of breast cancer can be beaten down and defeated by such an innocuous looking little group of pills as those on the counter above.  But that's what the doctors tell me. 

My oncologist told me to take Tamoxifen every day for 5 years because it will cut my recurrence rate in half.  And then my family practitioner told me to take 2,000 mg of Vitamin D each day as it helps prevent breast cancer (yikes that seems like an inordinate amount of Vitamin D) and I didn't have the heart to point out to her that I'd already had breast cancer, so why bother, 'cause she seemed quite adamant about it, even after hearing all about my year of BC.  And then, I take a multi-vitamin and a vitamin C and a B complex and my Remifemin (to combat the hot flashes that the Tamoxifen causes) and by then, it's become this little arsenal you see above.  And as silly as it seems, it makes me feel like I'm doing something to avoid a recurrence.  Because, really, what else can I do?  Except eat well and sleep a lot and try to stay happy and calm and healthy (which everyone probably tries to do anyway, bc or not, right?).



There's something startling about the notion of a recurrence.  I don't really think about it very often anymore but over the holidays someone that I hadn't seen in a long time, asked me if I was in remission.  I didn't know what to say.  I hadn't really thought about what to call my current state and I frankly prefer not to really try and figure it out.  I just am.  And, I'm doing just fine, thank you very much.  So I mumbled something along the lines of "Er, hmmm, um, not really sure what they call it, but I'm pretty sure everything is going to be fine, er, hem, ah," and then quickly got out of there so I didn't have to explain anything further.  And then I confess, I didn't sleep very well that night as I lay thinking about what she had asked.  I much prefer to just avoid the whole notion of what's next and live in the moment these days.  And it's working for me, so that's how I'm gonna' roll.

"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."

--Buddha

My favorite version of Hallelujah

I've been a fan of both Tim and Jeff Buckley for a long time.  They both have beautiful voices and their song choices have always spoken to my soul.  Jeff's version of Hallelujah, is in my opinion, the best ever recorded, even better than Leonard Cohen's own version.  It's transcendant and lifts me up every time I hear it - gives me chills.

Jeff Buckley had a sad and short life.  Although Tim Buckley was his father, I've read that they only met once when Jeff was 8.  Tim died of a drug overdose in 1975 and Jeff never really knew him.  Jeff only released one album during his short life, called Grace.  There were others released posthumously, but only the one while he was alive.

On May 29, 1997, Jeff went swimming in Wolf River Harbor, a channel of the Mississippi River and drowned.  His body was found about a week later and an autopsy showed no drug or alcohol abuse, and those around him at the time said that he was in good spirits and no one believed this was a suicide.  He was singing the chorus of "Whole Lotta' Love" by Led Zeppelin when he dove into the river and given the tone and ferocity of that song, it doesn't seem that his frame of mind would have been suicidal.  He was only 30 when he died.  I guess it was just his time.

I was listening to this on my IPod this morning, and thought I'd like to post it up here to share with anyone visiting.  It's so beautiful and haunting and yet somehow it always lifts me up.  Enjoy. (Sorry about the ad at the beginning of the video, but this is the live version that I like the best). 

"Poetry is just the evidence of life.  If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash."-- Leonard Cohen

Putting life in context

This morning, I was cleaning up before the cleaning lady comes (you women will know what I'm talking about) and as I looked up at the wall, I noticed this electrical outlet.  For a few minutes I gazed at it, wondering why it was discolored and greyish at the bottom, until I realized it was because for years, while the kids were young, we had a night light there.  The bulb was facing the wall, so I guess over the years, it discolored the metal of the plate and I'd never really noticed it until this morning.

I was a very worrisome mother.  Both of my kids, when they were young, were afraid of the dark.  And I was afraid of their fear.  I would worry, and obsess and try to "fix it."  So we had night lights in each child's room, and in the hallway in case they woke up in the middle of the night and were frightened.  And then there were dimmers on their bedroom lights, which I would leave on until they fell asleep, and then I'd go in and turn them off. 

Sometime along the way, over the years, they got over their fear of the dark and now that they're 14 and 16, there's no reason for night lights anymore.  So we took them off, room by room, and today for the first time I actually noticed those dark black marks on the bottom of the outlet in the hall and had a little moment, as I realized how far we all have come.  The kids are grown, and over their fear of the dark.  I've grown and am slowly but surely getting over my fears for them. 

I still worry and obsess, but I have a lot more context for it now.  When something "bad" happens (the kids get a bad grade, or fail a test, or lose a basketball tournament), I have this whole new way of looking at things.  I mean, after all, it's just a failed test (tournament, grade).  It's not cancer.

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” -- Dr. Seuss

Little victories

It feels like spring today and I decided to put up our spring season flag to replace the winter one I've had up on our flagpole for the past few months.  

As I reached my arms way up high to take the old flag down, I remembered last year at this time, how I realized that I simply could not reach that high, and couldn't switch last years flag without the help of my husband.  After all those surgeries, my upper body mobility was so constricted that I just couldn't reach up that high.

This year, I did it on my own without any problem. 

So now, every day when I pull in or out of the garage and see that spring flag flying, I'll be reminded of how far I've come.  Little victories, little wins.  Happy Spring!

"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome." -- Anne Bradstreet

And yet another thought provoking TED video: Brene Brown - The Power of Vulnerability

This is a very thought provoking video.  It's 20 minutes long, so it's an investment of your time, but I heartily recommend viewing it. 

"Maybe stories are just data with a soul." - Brene Brown

Sh*t Girls Say to Girls with Breast Cancer

Fell. On. The. Floor. Laughing. 

I just had to post.  Things were getting too serious around here.  Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

And by the way, people said almost all of these things to me!

"Is it the bad kind?"

Happy Thursday.

My father

You know that song, "Beautiful Boy" by John Lennon where he sings the line "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans?"  Well that's what the first two months of 2012 have been like for me.  I was expecting to take a lot of time writing about the fact that I was facing two major landmarks: my 2 year anniversary of discovering that I had breast cancer, and my 1 year anniversary of my last and final reconstructive surgery. 

But then, life happened.  In January my daughter had a concussion from a snowboarding accident, my mother in law had some worrisome health issues, 2 of my best friends had pretty scary car accidents, another of my best friends had a health scare and the whole family came down with the very annoying hacking cough/cold that's been going around.

And then, my dad died.

I took some time before I decided to write about it, because I'm still figuring out how it makes me feel, now that both of my parents are gone.  Do I feel like an orphan?  No, I still feel like they're around, teaching me life lessons, although perhaps not in the way either of us would have anticipated.

I remember the week they moved out of their last real home in North Carolina, and traveled down to Georgia where they first stayed for about 6 months in an Assisted Living home, promptly decided it wasn't for them, and then moved in with my oldest sister (who is a saint for letting them live with her) for the next 6 years.

The few days before they moved out of their home in North Carolina were busy, with my dad doing his very best to not only cull down all their belonging's to fit into the 2 rooms they would have in their new home, but also to responsibly dispose of all the rest of their life's belongings through donations to various local nonprofit organizations.  As they drove off in their car on the way to Georgia with my oldest sister, I waved goodbye and then turned back to the house in North Carolina, now almost empty of all evidence of their life there.  My dad had done such a good job of getting rid of everything, but as the movers were finishing up with all of their loading, I went out to the garage and my mouth fell open.  The one room in the house that my dad had forgotten about was the garage, and it was full of memories; old Christmas trees and ornaments, his complete and extensive set of metal garden and house tools, my mother's old walker from before she became bedridden, boxes and boxes of items all neatly labeled and stacked in orderly fashion on the shelves in the garage.

I had a very clear and distinct realization that material things are quite meaningless.  All of my parents possessions had just been reduced to trash and I was about to put the rest of the stuff from the garage out on the front curb, hoping that someone would come by and claim the things that were still useful.

Last month, after the funeral service, my sisters and I went into my Dad's rooms in my sister's home.  He had a suite of rooms; a bedroom, sitting room and bathroom.  Everything was very neat and orderly, my dad was very German and very organized.   There were so few things left of his 87 years of life - a few desk drawers of orderly files, a small closet and a chest of drawers with a few well organized and neatly folded clothes, his books and computer, some religious articles, photo albums and pictures of the family on the dressers and bookshelves.

And then I found his ashtray.  A funny thing to bring back such a strong rush of memories.  I took a deep breath as I lifted it and held it to my nose, fully expecting to smell the ashes from the ground out butts of his old Chesterfield cigarettes, but of course, he'd cleaned it so thoroughly since he'd stopped smoking in the 1970's that there was nothing there but my very strong memories.  I had forgotten about this ashtray, but it's the one thing he kept after all those years, so it must have held a lot of memories for him, too.  I don't really know much about it, but he must have gotten it during the Second World War, because it's from Augsburg Germany and is imprinted with "7th Inf. Division and 5th Inf. Regiment."

You can see the copper symbol in the center.  That's where he would stub out his cigarettes and that's the spot that I can remember had that strong smell, which for some reason I would love to be able to smell again, now, even though I hate cigarette smoke.

Knowing what we all know now, about how bad cigarette smoking is for you, I really should hate this ashtray, but I have to say, it's the one thing that makes my dad seem real, that still reminds me of his physical presence.  I'm glad he kept it.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

I love books. 

I just finished reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer.  I wanted to read it before the movie came out so that I could have that experience without being colored by the visual intensity that I know the movie will offer.

It's beautiful and sad and poignant and all the things you would expect of a book about the enormity of 9/11/01, and more.  He has a very unusual writing style and I know a lot of critics don't like his technique (he includes lots of images and has a sort of picture book embedded within the novel) but it seems to me that all of these elements only support the experience of the story that Safran Foer recounts.  If you aren't already aware, it's a story about a young 8 year old boy whose father dies in the 9/11 WTC attack.  But there's so much more than that, in this book.  It's about the big issues in life: how to live fully, what it means to be a parent, what it means to be a child, love, regret, death, acceptance.  And if you love New York, it is in some ways, also a love story about NYC.

When I finished it last night, I cried because I was so sad that I was done.  There are not too many books that do that for me anymore and this one did. I encourage you to read it before the movie comes out, as there is a depth and richness to the book that can never be captured in a 2 hour movie, even if it's well done.

“Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.” - Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Christmas 2011 in the City



The Tree in Rockefeller Center




Angels in Manhattan





Lights dripping off the building

Bendel's window

Happy Holidays to all!



Getting into the season

Merry Christmas - 2011

What a difference a year can make. 

The tree is up, the house is decorated and most of the presents have been bought.  Wrapping will be done over the next few days, then we're off to the city on Friday for our annual visit to see the tree.  Before you know it, it will be Christmas Eve, then Christmas.

Last year on our annual trip into the city I was still in the middle of my breast reconstruction and my back was killing me from the surgery and the expansion process.  What a miserable day that was.  I felt like Debbie Downer -  in addition to how badly I felt physically, I had just started taking the first month of my 5 years of Tamoxifen and became very depressed, an unanticipated side effect of many aromatase inhibitors.  I was trying very hard to be happy, but happy I was NOT.  The whole holiday season last year was pretty miserable.

Fast forward to today.  My current state of mind:  peaceful, calm, joyful, anticipatory and grateful.  

This week I made the leap and registered to attend the National Breast Cancer Coalition Summit in Washington DC, in May.  They're the group that has a proclamation to end breast cancer by 2020.  It feels like 2012 is going to be a good year.  I sense new things on the horizon, don't know what they will be, but something's coming....something good.

Happy Holiday's.  Hang out with your family, relax, don't worry about the gifts, sleep a lot, don't go to malls, watch a lot of funny movies, read some good books and enjoy the season. 

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." - Author unknown, attributed to a 7-year-old named Bobby

Letting go

Today I donated my wig from last years chemo days to a local group that refurbishes wigs for cancer patients going through chemo.  The wig has been meandering around my bedroom for a while.  When I first stopped wearing it back in the spring as my hair started to come back in I kept it in its box on top of my dresser for a while, feeling somehow reticent to put it away quite yet.  Then I packed it up and stored it in a nice shiny bag in the back of my closet, along with a bunch of hats I used to wear last year when I was bald.  I would see the wig box every now and then and wonder what to do with it.  I even took it out once in the summer, and put it on just to see how it felt now that I have hair, but was so freaked out by the memories of chemo that flooded back as I looked in the mirror that I quickly pulled it off and stored it back in its box.  

I had kind of a love-hate relationship with my wig.  In some ways I was so happy to be able to go out incognito when I wore it, because when it was on not everyone would immediately know I had BC.  But on the other hand, the damn thing itched and was so hot during all my hot flashes from the chemo that I really couldn't stand it by the end.  And then it took so long for my hair to grow back in and I was so anxious to just get on with my life that I started to see the wig as a symbol of my BC and started to really loathe the sight of it.  

I didn't know what to do with the darn thing.  I'm not the kind of person who likes to throw perfectly good things away; I'm a believer in recycling and re-purposing things that are perfectly useful for someone out there.  So, I held onto it.

And then last week, my friend Andra (a fellow BC survivor who helped me through so much last year) sent me an email about a local group she was working with and on the spur of the moment I sent them a message asking if they could use my wig.  They said yes, they'd love to take it.

Today I dropped it off and it was pretty uneventful.  The woman thanked me, took it, said it was in good shape and that was that.  I had somehow expected something more momentous after all the angst I had been feeling, but I really just felt good that it was out of my house and would be useful to someone else.

Done.  Moved on with that part of my life.  A nice feeling.  And of course, I had to celebrate in my now traditional post BC landmark fashion, by stopping off for a cup of Dunkin' Donuts (decaf these days 'cause the Tamoxifen gives me such crazy hot flashes which are exacerbated even more by caffeine).  

"Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go." - Herman Hesse

Aruba, here we come

I'm kind of embarrassed to say that we're going on yet another vacation again this Saturday.  This time we're going to Aruba.  It's just been a plethora of vacations this year and given the snow we had last weekend, I'm so glad we're going somewhere warm and relaxing again because it's been a whirlwind of a week.

Last Saturday the snow hit and a lot of our friends had no power, so we hosted a bunch of kids at our place for much of the weekend.  Then there was Halloween, and of course, we had a whole passel of kids here for that.  Then the High school was closed for the last 2 days 'cause of all the homes with power outages, and we had a bunch of kids here every day just hanging out, taking showers and sleeping over because their homes were too cold.

Chris (black one on left) and his friends in their Halloween Morph costumes

And, of course, in the midst of all that, I'm still sitting here at my desk working full time!  So it's been a little hairy, but fun.  Now, with the vacation coming up, I'm starting to freak out about all the things we need to get done before we leave, so I'm glad the High School was finally open today so I can have the house to myself again.

I grew up in a house where we weren't very comfortable inviting friends over to hang out, and we rarely had friends sleep over.  We just weren't that kind of family.  I don't think my husbands family was really that big on sleepovers either.  I think that's why we've both consciously created a home where the kids feel comfortable bringing lots of friends around.  We might have gone a little too far.  Not a weekend goes by that we don't have at least 1 and often several kids sleeping over.  And now that they're teenagers, some days it feels like they've kind of taken over (they're all so big and their presences are so much larger than they were when they were younger).

Whenever we have sleepovers, the basement gets quite a workout.  Recently, I found a large hole in the basement wall the day after a sleepover.  Hmmm.....seems my son created that hole with his shoulder during a basement football game.  The day after sleepovers the room is always a big mess, full of dozens of soda cans, lots of empty cookie containers, half eaten pizza slices, nerf balls, blankets, random pillows, shirts, socks and who knows what else. 

But I wouldn't change it for the world.  At least I know where they are and I get to know their friends.  Life is so vivid and all consuming when you have kids around.  I've been bemoaning the fact that I never have time to myself for years, but now I have this scary feeling that before I know it, they're going to be grown, off to college and out the door for good and then I'll be here by myself wondering what to do with my life.  So lately I've been trying to figure out what the next phase of my life is going to be.  I'll keep you posted. 

"Nothing is secure but life, transition, the energizing spirit." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

My 93 year old mother-in-law attributes the crazy weather we've been having lately to the NASA space program.  "Ever since they sent those astronauts up there, things have been crazy around here, weather wise."   Her theory is that they did something to the atmosphere when they sent those rockets up there.  You never know, she might have a point.  All I can say is, this is pretty unusual weather for October 29th.  

“The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.” 

― E.E. Cummings