Thursday, October 28, 2010
Seriously, can't a girl get a break?
After 10 months, almost to the day of battling this cancer thing, I get this pain that I don’t think I’m supposed have, so I call my angel of a cancer advocate; she tells me to get in to see either my primary doctor or the surgeon who did the breast surgery. I go see both. As it turns out, there is something going on; the surgeon tells me that it could be an infection and gives me mega antibiotics, which if in two weeks they don’t work, then we’re looking at another kind of breast cancer; a more serious one. Talk about breast cancer awareness month; wow! Drat I say! I have learned more about cancer than I ever wanted to know this past year; I’ve learned that even when they say you’re in remission, that all your markers look good, that the chemo and radiation worked….it’s still with you all the time; that impending fear, that new awareness that your body is rebelling, or tainted now in some fashion. I’ve learned that so many more people have been touched by it than I ever thought. I’ve learned that I have this newfound, sort of morbid curiosity that compels me to read the obits in the paper every Sunday, and that every week countless women lose courageous and long battles with breast, and other cancers, and I wonder if I will be one of those, or not. I’ve said to myself over the past months that if I had to do chemo again, I wouldn’t, and then my stronger self says that no matter what comes my way, I will deal with it. So, now, I wait that two weeks, and wonder…..
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Thank You - For my MHS family
To everyone at Mental Health Systems who has supported me in this journey:
Any attempt to articulate, with words, the depth of the gratitude that my heart is filled with –seems so trite, but I will attempt. Eight months ago, when I heard the word cancer – as I am sure everyone who has had that experience goes through, an emotional roller coaster ride began. There was fear, panic, reflection, confusion, a wide range of feelings that continue even now. But, while my emotions were in such chaos, out of all this came something else; something so rare and precious; most of all, so humbling. It was the response of the people I have had the privilege of working and hanging out with, and befriending over the past 12 years at Mental Health Systems; a response I neither anticipated, nor could have imagined would be so gracious and generous.
Generally, I am the eternal optimist, but like everyone, I suppose, I can go to those more cynical places. Something I wrote, and something I often talk, worry and think about; the potential for the loss of community-which I contend is, in large part, the reason for so much despair, confusion, and conflict in this world we share. When New Starts began, an excerpt of the program philosophy said “We must be careful as we go racing down this 24-hour information highway, lest we forget the names, the faces, and the humanness we share.” Any time spent in an airport these days, witnessing how many people aren’t talking, or making eye contact, is a vivid reminder of this ‘information highway at work’.
What I have experienced as a member of the MHS Community has invigorated my ‘optimist’ self and quelled my ‘cynic’ self, to be sure. When the company wide email went out requesting donations for me, little ‘ole me, I was moved to tears; the good kind, joyful tears. I, facing this arduous journey, could not have been in a better place in terms of the friendships that have formed for the past 12 years, and solidified even more so over the past eight months. The generosity of spirit; the extensions of shoulders to cry on, arms to be held in, places to say how I really felt, lunches, food deliveries to my house during chemo, and time off when I couldn’t keep going; countless gestures, toward me, little ‘ole me.
I can’t begin to express my how touched, moved, and grateful I am, starting with Kim, David, Orv, and Vicki, and everyone else of the MHS community, and what a wondrous, great community it is. This is a time that will remain in my heart forever.
With warmest regards,
Denise Sassoon
Any attempt to articulate, with words, the depth of the gratitude that my heart is filled with –seems so trite, but I will attempt. Eight months ago, when I heard the word cancer – as I am sure everyone who has had that experience goes through, an emotional roller coaster ride began. There was fear, panic, reflection, confusion, a wide range of feelings that continue even now. But, while my emotions were in such chaos, out of all this came something else; something so rare and precious; most of all, so humbling. It was the response of the people I have had the privilege of working and hanging out with, and befriending over the past 12 years at Mental Health Systems; a response I neither anticipated, nor could have imagined would be so gracious and generous.
Generally, I am the eternal optimist, but like everyone, I suppose, I can go to those more cynical places. Something I wrote, and something I often talk, worry and think about; the potential for the loss of community-which I contend is, in large part, the reason for so much despair, confusion, and conflict in this world we share. When New Starts began, an excerpt of the program philosophy said “We must be careful as we go racing down this 24-hour information highway, lest we forget the names, the faces, and the humanness we share.” Any time spent in an airport these days, witnessing how many people aren’t talking, or making eye contact, is a vivid reminder of this ‘information highway at work’.
What I have experienced as a member of the MHS Community has invigorated my ‘optimist’ self and quelled my ‘cynic’ self, to be sure. When the company wide email went out requesting donations for me, little ‘ole me, I was moved to tears; the good kind, joyful tears. I, facing this arduous journey, could not have been in a better place in terms of the friendships that have formed for the past 12 years, and solidified even more so over the past eight months. The generosity of spirit; the extensions of shoulders to cry on, arms to be held in, places to say how I really felt, lunches, food deliveries to my house during chemo, and time off when I couldn’t keep going; countless gestures, toward me, little ‘ole me.
I can’t begin to express my how touched, moved, and grateful I am, starting with Kim, David, Orv, and Vicki, and everyone else of the MHS community, and what a wondrous, great community it is. This is a time that will remain in my heart forever.
With warmest regards,
Denise Sassoon
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
For all the pet lovers in the world
Bentley – Master of the House
We’ve got this tiny six pound dog, a Maltese….just a bit bigger than a bag of sugar or potatoes, yet, literally, the power of a dictator. How many of you have such an animal; one that wields so much power that everything revolves around him or her. Animals are smart; I think sometimes, smarter than we are…and he knows that! He sleeps with us, and as little as he is, he monopolizes almost the whole bed; and has the nerve if one of us moves a pillow to groan or growl. He will even snap if you go too far in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. He knows to play us with this little droopy thing he does where he’ll just sit in the middle of the living room floor with his head down, and stare at the carpet. This is him asking for something, but he makes us guess what, and quite often, it ends up being nothing but a plea for attention. He knows my schedule, and almost precisely a half hour before it’s time for me to come home, he sits on the couch, perched, waiting and anxious. Here’s the kicker though; we have a yard full of critters, most of them harmless, except the possoms and skunks which I think there is a whole family nesting under the deck. He’s been sprayed by skunks more times than we can count, and yet, every time he encounters one, he still goes after them (he’ll go after possums three times his size too). One time he got sprayed so severely, he was frothing at the mouth and no doubt, nearly blinded, permanently. A paradox, to be sure, that a little being who is so smart can be so clueless when it comes to these damn skunks; it makes no sense, and when he gets sprayed, it pretty much ruins our day or night. Before we put his big sister, Echo, a golden lab, to sleep….she was right beside him getting sprayed too; that was great fun, having both of them sprayed at the same time. Oh, the joys of being a pet lover…..
We’ve got this tiny six pound dog, a Maltese….just a bit bigger than a bag of sugar or potatoes, yet, literally, the power of a dictator. How many of you have such an animal; one that wields so much power that everything revolves around him or her. Animals are smart; I think sometimes, smarter than we are…and he knows that! He sleeps with us, and as little as he is, he monopolizes almost the whole bed; and has the nerve if one of us moves a pillow to groan or growl. He will even snap if you go too far in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. He knows to play us with this little droopy thing he does where he’ll just sit in the middle of the living room floor with his head down, and stare at the carpet. This is him asking for something, but he makes us guess what, and quite often, it ends up being nothing but a plea for attention. He knows my schedule, and almost precisely a half hour before it’s time for me to come home, he sits on the couch, perched, waiting and anxious. Here’s the kicker though; we have a yard full of critters, most of them harmless, except the possoms and skunks which I think there is a whole family nesting under the deck. He’s been sprayed by skunks more times than we can count, and yet, every time he encounters one, he still goes after them (he’ll go after possums three times his size too). One time he got sprayed so severely, he was frothing at the mouth and no doubt, nearly blinded, permanently. A paradox, to be sure, that a little being who is so smart can be so clueless when it comes to these damn skunks; it makes no sense, and when he gets sprayed, it pretty much ruins our day or night. Before we put his big sister, Echo, a golden lab, to sleep….she was right beside him getting sprayed too; that was great fun, having both of them sprayed at the same time. Oh, the joys of being a pet lover…..
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
What If?
What If?
I was thinking about all the ‘what if’s’ in life….
On my life; what if I had not gotten cancer, I would not be better for it; it has given me a unique perspective. The only drawback is that the first sighting of hair growing back is my chin hairs…wouldn’t you know it.
What if -I didn’t have the support I have – I’d be much less inclined to fight this thing
What if –I could actually complete this book I’ve been contemplating for 25 years – I’d be better especially if it sold, I could quit working and just volunteer my time – perhaps go rock babies at a hospital or something more to my liking-and of course, travel the world
What if – I didn’t have the amazing love affair that I have with my wife – can’t imagine where I would be – can’t fathom being single at almost 60 and dating-YUK- she better live longer than I do
On friends: what if – we weren’t connected in some way- we really are, that whole six degrees of separation; don’t you think our lives would be much worse for that
What if – we weren’t such unique, diverse, and accomplished people; the world would be less good for that
What if – I could somehow erase your struggles, pain, and sadness – I could make a LOT of money, and be more fulfilled than I am already-the notion that money can’t buy happiness is not completely true – it sure helps, especially in these uncertain times
What if ––‘god was one of us’ – which I contend might be true – by virtue of the love shared, the connectedness, and the good deeds we do for one another
What if – we found a way to resolve ALL our family issues-OMG
The world at large:
What if – children lived in a world with no hate, abuse, or prejudice?
What if – we lived in a world with no hate, abuse or prejudice?
What if –there weren’t both the Rachel Maddow’s and Rush Limbaugh’s of the 24-hour news cycle – I wouldn’t have the luxury of hearing both sides-and staying perplexed about all the issues that we face
What if –this life, this world, we, don’t really exist, but are maybe manifestations of the dreams of some animal that is hibernating for the winter, and when that animal wakes up, that’s it, we are over…this one was born out of an acid trip in the sixties-I still think it may be true, even without the acid
I was thinking about all the ‘what if’s’ in life….
On my life; what if I had not gotten cancer, I would not be better for it; it has given me a unique perspective. The only drawback is that the first sighting of hair growing back is my chin hairs…wouldn’t you know it.
What if -I didn’t have the support I have – I’d be much less inclined to fight this thing
What if –I could actually complete this book I’ve been contemplating for 25 years – I’d be better especially if it sold, I could quit working and just volunteer my time – perhaps go rock babies at a hospital or something more to my liking-and of course, travel the world
What if – I didn’t have the amazing love affair that I have with my wife – can’t imagine where I would be – can’t fathom being single at almost 60 and dating-YUK- she better live longer than I do
On friends: what if – we weren’t connected in some way- we really are, that whole six degrees of separation; don’t you think our lives would be much worse for that
What if – we weren’t such unique, diverse, and accomplished people; the world would be less good for that
What if – I could somehow erase your struggles, pain, and sadness – I could make a LOT of money, and be more fulfilled than I am already-the notion that money can’t buy happiness is not completely true – it sure helps, especially in these uncertain times
What if ––‘god was one of us’ – which I contend might be true – by virtue of the love shared, the connectedness, and the good deeds we do for one another
What if – we found a way to resolve ALL our family issues-OMG
The world at large:
What if – children lived in a world with no hate, abuse, or prejudice?
What if – we lived in a world with no hate, abuse or prejudice?
What if –there weren’t both the Rachel Maddow’s and Rush Limbaugh’s of the 24-hour news cycle – I wouldn’t have the luxury of hearing both sides-and staying perplexed about all the issues that we face
What if –this life, this world, we, don’t really exist, but are maybe manifestations of the dreams of some animal that is hibernating for the winter, and when that animal wakes up, that’s it, we are over…this one was born out of an acid trip in the sixties-I still think it may be true, even without the acid
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Pros and Cons
In Retrospect
So, over six months into this cancer thing, I’ve learned a most important lesson; there are benefits, and ‘non’ benefits to having cancer. Better to start with the ‘non’ so as to end on a high note
Non Benefits:
1) Almost constant nausea
2) Little legs don’t work nearly as good or fast as they used to; my wife has always gotten irritated with me because I walked ahead of her – (could be a benefit too….now we walk together, or me behind her)
3) Trying to figure out every day which do-rag to cover my bald head with – I have two wigs, but don’t wear them cuz I know everyone knows they are wigs, (like people don't know I'm wearing scarves for same reason)-wondering how long before the hair comes back; I’ve heard it comes back patchy, the same way it came out-that would suck -
4) The fear it will grow back grayer
5) Being asked 10-15 times a day how I feel… you see, I have that socially retarded thing in one-on- one situations – put me in front of 80 people and I’m good
Benefits:
1) Got a beautiful new wedding ring out of it….the one I’d always dreamed of, lots of sizable shimmering diamonds
2) 2) The wife, after over 20 years of my being the cook in the house, who now cooks for me….she does so, both willingly and begrudgingly. Hmmm….maybe I’ll play on this one awhile
3) New awareness of just how many people I have in my life that give a shit
4) Picturing my hair will come back without gray,and straight– like I have always dreamed of having….the only thing that I was ever able to straighten my hair with is Motions – which is not for white girls -inevitably, every time I use it, I burn my scalp
5) The loss of weight from all the nausea; always a good thing just by virtue of being a women
6) Being asked 10-15 times a day how I feel...maybe it will cure my social retardation
So, over six months into this cancer thing, I’ve learned a most important lesson; there are benefits, and ‘non’ benefits to having cancer. Better to start with the ‘non’ so as to end on a high note
Non Benefits:
1) Almost constant nausea
2) Little legs don’t work nearly as good or fast as they used to; my wife has always gotten irritated with me because I walked ahead of her – (could be a benefit too….now we walk together, or me behind her)
3) Trying to figure out every day which do-rag to cover my bald head with – I have two wigs, but don’t wear them cuz I know everyone knows they are wigs, (like people don't know I'm wearing scarves for same reason)-wondering how long before the hair comes back; I’ve heard it comes back patchy, the same way it came out-that would suck -
4) The fear it will grow back grayer
5) Being asked 10-15 times a day how I feel… you see, I have that socially retarded thing in one-on- one situations – put me in front of 80 people and I’m good
Benefits:
1) Got a beautiful new wedding ring out of it….the one I’d always dreamed of, lots of sizable shimmering diamonds
2) 2) The wife, after over 20 years of my being the cook in the house, who now cooks for me….she does so, both willingly and begrudgingly. Hmmm….maybe I’ll play on this one awhile
3) New awareness of just how many people I have in my life that give a shit
4) Picturing my hair will come back without gray,and straight– like I have always dreamed of having….the only thing that I was ever able to straighten my hair with is Motions – which is not for white girls -inevitably, every time I use it, I burn my scalp
5) The loss of weight from all the nausea; always a good thing just by virtue of being a women
6) Being asked 10-15 times a day how I feel...maybe it will cure my social retardation
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Capital "G"
This tirade was inspired by a news story today that Sarah Palin is the third most popular GOP candidate for 2012- no offense to anyone and none intended. … wondering why I feel reticent, uneasy, because I have this overwhelming urge to tell people, whom I love,cherish, and respect, that I react the constant references to, and messages about God, that one with a capital G….I respect their views- it works for them, but to include it in so much of the social media, email, chats, and live, in person, makes me wonder– how do we define that ‘something’ that IS bigger than us-and to attach instructions and conditions - like – ‘if you just pray, this cancer will be away…or, if you don't live and act a certain way, you are doomed...I am content to know that I am in awe of whatever it is that’s ‘bigger’ than us, me, but in probably 99% of traditional religious arenas, me, my past, my lifestyle, my wife, are regarded as some kind of sick perversion– STILL. In 2010, does this still happen-how is there still racism, sexism, judgment, intolerance, rage and hate-most of it driven and justified by religion if you really look at history, and the present.
They say we should avoid religion and politics, but what the hell, it’s that kind of morning-one of reflection, affection for all my friends, love for my family, but, as well, my truth at this moment-I do pray, for lack of a better word, just not sure what or who hears me- and I’m okay with that-with the knowledge and humility that something is greater than I, than us. I guess the bottom line for me is the vast difference between religion and spirituality…. Above all else, having the friends and family I have – is what are the closest thing to god for me, without the capital G. their energy and love are what sustains, fills me. So I thank them. And, above all else, the fact that I did feel reticent, uneasy about sharing this – my truth, says something….it shouldn’t, but it does – it says that if one doesn’t quite fit with what seems to be a majority, then one is somehow not good enough or should be fearful. I beg to differ.
They say we should avoid religion and politics, but what the hell, it’s that kind of morning-one of reflection, affection for all my friends, love for my family, but, as well, my truth at this moment-I do pray, for lack of a better word, just not sure what or who hears me- and I’m okay with that-with the knowledge and humility that something is greater than I, than us. I guess the bottom line for me is the vast difference between religion and spirituality…. Above all else, having the friends and family I have – is what are the closest thing to god for me, without the capital G. their energy and love are what sustains, fills me. So I thank them. And, above all else, the fact that I did feel reticent, uneasy about sharing this – my truth, says something….it shouldn’t, but it does – it says that if one doesn’t quite fit with what seems to be a majority, then one is somehow not good enough or should be fearful. I beg to differ.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Thought Control
Don't feel like writing about this past week of health issues other than to say I had two infections going on at once, had to go to emergency Dr. appt and get mega antibiotics which, thankfully, are starting to work, but since I was home a lot, exposed to more television than I am used to, i found an old piece I wrote in 1998 for one of the best classes I ever took, Film and Society...it still rings true eleven years later, even moreso-so here goes....
As a child, product, and victim of the sixties, I struggle to hold onto a life and belief system that renders me still individual, fighting thought control with all my might. I have dedicated my lifework to a field that yields me, daily heartbreaks and miracles that strives to teach community to people who have rarely or ever had it. Outside work, I like to read (incessantly), write to friends, travel, and gamble, watch Friends, Ellen, Hope Street 412, and most of the major news shows (20/20, Prime Time, and 60 Minutes). I like the ocean, yard sales, restaurants, gardening, and working with wood. About serving Capitalism, I am appalled that we have to, just to survive, most of us anyway. If I could do anything I wanted, I would not work (to pay bills), but rather, as a contribution of myself to those less fortunate, and travel with my wife until I get to see the whole world. I would take plenty to read. I would cherish my friends and family, as I do now, and spend more time with them. The problem is, this requires much more money than I have, and it’s set up, for the most part, for people like me to work to live. Since there isn’t much to do about that, I go on, assembling a fair amount of happiness and gratitude for what I do have, and can do. I stand amidst the thought control conspiracy, wondering . . .
Today, on television, Toyota said, “I’m everyday people,” and I wonder if they are talking about, or to me. I went to Blockbuster Videos to prepare for this weekend of no school or work; Friday morning usually being the best time to get the ones I want. Early, as usual, I sat waiting eight minutes for them to open. While sitting there, in my Camry, I saw four young, and adorable little boys, ranging in age from about five to twelve. Two were Hispanic and two were Caucasian. They were standing at the doors of the store, peering in, leaning against it, talking, and laughing; eagerly waiting for it to open. The mom, presumably, was sitting in a small, parked car reading something. The boys’ collective attire advertised Nike, Faded Glory, Super Nintendo, Home Alone, and the Los Angeles Raiders. What fashion minded moms they must have. When the store opened, they raced to the Sony Play Station Section, only to find that Nintendo 64 was all checked out. Mom assured them they could reserve it, and come later to get it. I was looking for Inventing the Abbots, which has not yet been in since it’s release; so instead I got Everybody Says I Love You, and Fierce Creatures, neither of which I know much about, but hope they will entertain me this weekend.
Driving home, I thought about the personal, social and cultural consequences of “manufactured consent”, “thought control”, and “necessary illusions,” and concluded that the greatest consequence of these, culminating in the Me generation is the loss of community, which I believe, has devastating and grave implications for our world.
As a child, product, and victim of the sixties, I struggle to hold onto a life and belief system that renders me still individual, fighting thought control with all my might. I have dedicated my lifework to a field that yields me, daily heartbreaks and miracles that strives to teach community to people who have rarely or ever had it. Outside work, I like to read (incessantly), write to friends, travel, and gamble, watch Friends, Ellen, Hope Street 412, and most of the major news shows (20/20, Prime Time, and 60 Minutes). I like the ocean, yard sales, restaurants, gardening, and working with wood. About serving Capitalism, I am appalled that we have to, just to survive, most of us anyway. If I could do anything I wanted, I would not work (to pay bills), but rather, as a contribution of myself to those less fortunate, and travel with my wife until I get to see the whole world. I would take plenty to read. I would cherish my friends and family, as I do now, and spend more time with them. The problem is, this requires much more money than I have, and it’s set up, for the most part, for people like me to work to live. Since there isn’t much to do about that, I go on, assembling a fair amount of happiness and gratitude for what I do have, and can do. I stand amidst the thought control conspiracy, wondering . . .
Today, on television, Toyota said, “I’m everyday people,” and I wonder if they are talking about, or to me. I went to Blockbuster Videos to prepare for this weekend of no school or work; Friday morning usually being the best time to get the ones I want. Early, as usual, I sat waiting eight minutes for them to open. While sitting there, in my Camry, I saw four young, and adorable little boys, ranging in age from about five to twelve. Two were Hispanic and two were Caucasian. They were standing at the doors of the store, peering in, leaning against it, talking, and laughing; eagerly waiting for it to open. The mom, presumably, was sitting in a small, parked car reading something. The boys’ collective attire advertised Nike, Faded Glory, Super Nintendo, Home Alone, and the Los Angeles Raiders. What fashion minded moms they must have. When the store opened, they raced to the Sony Play Station Section, only to find that Nintendo 64 was all checked out. Mom assured them they could reserve it, and come later to get it. I was looking for Inventing the Abbots, which has not yet been in since it’s release; so instead I got Everybody Says I Love You, and Fierce Creatures, neither of which I know much about, but hope they will entertain me this weekend.
Driving home, I thought about the personal, social and cultural consequences of “manufactured consent”, “thought control”, and “necessary illusions,” and concluded that the greatest consequence of these, culminating in the Me generation is the loss of community, which I believe, has devastating and grave implications for our world.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sunday morning blues
OMG - I just ate salad for breakfast, why salad, you ask? a dear dear friend of mine -Lorraine delivered a gift to me yesterday of nearly every kind of fruit, veggies, shrimp, chicken, the best viginarette dressing i've ever had, vitamin water-giant portabella mushroom, cranberries, candy...she apparantly researched the internet to find out what chemo patients can tolerate depending on the side effects... she did this as a gesture of kindness that would only become more precious after the night and early morning i had; one of just being pissed off and sick and tired of this cancer, chemo thing-had one of the worst nights/mornings in awhile. Just had a bunch of work done on the house all week, painting, relandscaping, etc. and everything is in disarray...i can't stand things being out of order, and upon making some small effort to put a garbage can back where it belonged, I found i had not even the strength to do that, walking to the bedroom and back is a major effort that leaves me out of breath. But, oh, the healing power of that salad I just ate helped ease the fear, the anger, the sheer tiredness of the shape i find myself in....god, i keep saying to myself, i'm only 57...anyway, to say thank you to Lorraine doesn't begin to express the magnitude of that salad i just ate.
OMG - I just ate salad for breakfast, why salad, you ask? a dear dear friend of mine -Lorraine delivered a gift to me yesterday of nearly every kind of fruit, veggies, shrimp, chicken, the best viginarette dressing i've ever had, vitamin water-giant portabella mushroom, cranberries, candy...she apparantly researched the internet to find out what chemo patients can tolerate depending on the side effects... she did this as a gesture of kindness that would only become more precious after the night and early morning i had; one of just being pissed off and sick and tired of this cancer, chemo thing-had one of the worst nights/mornings in awhile. Just had a bunch of work done on the house all week, painting, relandscaping, etc. and everything is in disarray...i can't stand things being out of order, and upon making some small effort to put a garbage can back where it belonged, I found i had not even the strength to do that, walking to the bedroom and back is a major effort that leaves me out of breath. But, oh, the healing power of that salad I just ate helped ease the fear, the anger, the sheer tiredness of the shape i find myself in....god, i keep saying to myself, i'm only 57...anyway, to say thank you to Lorraine doesn't begin to express the magnitude of that salad i just ate.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
The Little Pink Pillow
It may seem as though these blogs are going backwards, but now that chemo is done, there is much reflection going on....a tribute to Donna and others
The Little Pink Pillow
I am a woman, like so many other women (astounding how many) who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. When I reported to the hospital for my lumpectomy, I was visited by a wonderful woman named Donna Jones (she had called me prior to the hospital appointment to introduce herself as my advocate). She gave me a gift bag with various items in it, one of them being a soft, little pink pillow. She said it was designed to support my breast upon my release from the hospital so the seat belt wouldn’t hurt my poor, mangled boobie, and it was mangled and bruised, and sore with three incisions. For the first 48 hours of my recovery from the lumpectomy, I used that pink pillow when I walked, sat, stood up, and lay down, and it was equivalent to a little pink miracle. Donna told me that the pillows are hand made by a volunteer at the Cancer Center; and that she and this person had an arrangement that if Donna keeps buying the material, the volunteer would make them. I can’t begin to express how much relief and comfort that little pillow gave me, and my boobie….such a little thing that made such a big difference. So, if you are someone who has to go through what I did, I highly recommend that you use that little pillow. Needless to say, it’s the little things that make a difference when one is going through something so terrifying as this.
Donna was kind and compassionate, and when I introduced her to my wife of 22 years, she didn’t raise an eyebrow, or display that look that some of us who are gay get; that looks that says, I have to tolerate you because it’s my job, but I really don’t like or approve of who you are. Thanks to Donna, and to that woman who makes those little pink pillows; I suppose if I end up loosing my hair, there will be a little pink headscarf or something to match it. With people like Donna, and volunteers who care so much, I have no doubt that somewhere, someone, makes little pink scarves. Thank you doesn’t begin to express the difference this made to me.
The Little Pink Pillow
I am a woman, like so many other women (astounding how many) who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. When I reported to the hospital for my lumpectomy, I was visited by a wonderful woman named Donna Jones (she had called me prior to the hospital appointment to introduce herself as my advocate). She gave me a gift bag with various items in it, one of them being a soft, little pink pillow. She said it was designed to support my breast upon my release from the hospital so the seat belt wouldn’t hurt my poor, mangled boobie, and it was mangled and bruised, and sore with three incisions. For the first 48 hours of my recovery from the lumpectomy, I used that pink pillow when I walked, sat, stood up, and lay down, and it was equivalent to a little pink miracle. Donna told me that the pillows are hand made by a volunteer at the Cancer Center; and that she and this person had an arrangement that if Donna keeps buying the material, the volunteer would make them. I can’t begin to express how much relief and comfort that little pillow gave me, and my boobie….such a little thing that made such a big difference. So, if you are someone who has to go through what I did, I highly recommend that you use that little pillow. Needless to say, it’s the little things that make a difference when one is going through something so terrifying as this.
Donna was kind and compassionate, and when I introduced her to my wife of 22 years, she didn’t raise an eyebrow, or display that look that some of us who are gay get; that looks that says, I have to tolerate you because it’s my job, but I really don’t like or approve of who you are. Thanks to Donna, and to that woman who makes those little pink pillows; I suppose if I end up loosing my hair, there will be a little pink headscarf or something to match it. With people like Donna, and volunteers who care so much, I have no doubt that somewhere, someone, makes little pink scarves. Thank you doesn’t begin to express the difference this made to me.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The Wig
March 17th
Got two wigs yesterday, following two days of attempting to cover my bald, patchy, fuzzy head with something…scarves, hats, etc. of course, the weather decided to turn into summer overnight, thus making these head coverings hot, uncomfortable, itchy and weird. I wish I had the balls to just go out bald, but not there yet, if at all through this no hair dilemma. At least I find that my head isn’t pointed like the cone heads of Saturday Night Live in the seventies – everyone I know today is probably too young to remember that. Nor is my head shaped weird, almost looks completely round – no indentations, or bumps, or color splashes, so I guess that’s good. Back to the wigs, my instincts told me to have Joanne go with me, didn’t do that. Big mistake –one of the two wigs I chose actually works; the other is jet black, long, flowing, and when I came home, she just cracked up – fortunately for me, the hospice that provides the wigs (free) to chemo patients, said I could come back and trade the black one for something that is more me…and Joanne will be meeting me there this time. So-that’s the situation arisen from loosing my hair. Second chemo treatment is this Friday – learned from a couple of people who have been through it that it gets worse, not better, with each treatment –this SUCKS – I thought the opposite. And as I wrote on my Face book posts, the first treatment felt like two things, one, menopause times ten, and two, kicking heroin times ten, both of which are harder than I think I have the will to do, but have no choice in the matter. Well, that’s not exactly true, I do have a choice – not to do it, and take a chance, but I suppose that’s not an option, or so everyone tells me. It’s the knowing of what is to come, and that it may be worse that makes one want to just scream, shoot some really good dope, quit, all those things we aren’t supposed to do. But, no doubt, common sense will prevail…
Got two wigs yesterday, following two days of attempting to cover my bald, patchy, fuzzy head with something…scarves, hats, etc. of course, the weather decided to turn into summer overnight, thus making these head coverings hot, uncomfortable, itchy and weird. I wish I had the balls to just go out bald, but not there yet, if at all through this no hair dilemma. At least I find that my head isn’t pointed like the cone heads of Saturday Night Live in the seventies – everyone I know today is probably too young to remember that. Nor is my head shaped weird, almost looks completely round – no indentations, or bumps, or color splashes, so I guess that’s good. Back to the wigs, my instincts told me to have Joanne go with me, didn’t do that. Big mistake –one of the two wigs I chose actually works; the other is jet black, long, flowing, and when I came home, she just cracked up – fortunately for me, the hospice that provides the wigs (free) to chemo patients, said I could come back and trade the black one for something that is more me…and Joanne will be meeting me there this time. So-that’s the situation arisen from loosing my hair. Second chemo treatment is this Friday – learned from a couple of people who have been through it that it gets worse, not better, with each treatment –this SUCKS – I thought the opposite. And as I wrote on my Face book posts, the first treatment felt like two things, one, menopause times ten, and two, kicking heroin times ten, both of which are harder than I think I have the will to do, but have no choice in the matter. Well, that’s not exactly true, I do have a choice – not to do it, and take a chance, but I suppose that’s not an option, or so everyone tells me. It’s the knowing of what is to come, and that it may be worse that makes one want to just scream, shoot some really good dope, quit, all those things we aren’t supposed to do. But, no doubt, common sense will prevail…
Sunday, May 9, 2010
I'm Here...
On the advice of a couple of good friends, I do this blog. I always thought the most profound event of my life (besides brutally raped- that’s another story) was the time I spent in prison thirty years ago. It defined me, not in a negative way, but as an intense, life changing time-don’t regret it- I got a rare perspective of the worst and best of humanity. I began to write then - Poems, stories, journals from 1978 forward…. records of prison, all that happened before and since . Now, I’ve a new sentence – cancer. Such a startling reality when told- on Monday morning at work over the phone. wow, that call was heart stopping for a second. in those few hours after the call, I found myself driving aimlessly in San Diego, in a trance. It was just before Christmas; my wife was in Tucson, - I was to meet her there in three days, alone, driving, thinking, screaming inside, laughing at the irony that it was breast cancer, not lung cancer always thought if I got cancer I figured it would lungs….the irony that I had always wanted a breast reduction –that old cliché, careful what you ask for. a couple of months into it, it’s surreal some, too real, days, other days, particularly when they cut a chunk of my boob out, and it still hurts most days…and that what follows is months of chemo and radiation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)