April 17, 2010
I’ve just returned home from lunch at San Francisco’s Cliff House with a wonderful friend. Her treat, to help me celebrate my new life without cancer. The Cliff House restaurant is on the ocean and is a scant few blocks from where my friend grew up. She reminisced about playing in the surf at Ocean Beach with her brothers. Their legs would get so cold they would run home and sit on a bath chair under the hot water of their shower until the feeling in their legs returned.
We walked through the little windmill park across from the beach. The tulips were still beautiful, though nearing the end of their bloom. My friend talked lovingly of visiting the park with her mother when they were both much younger. Her mother has since passed away. My heart aches for her being without her mom. They were so close.
My friend asked a lot of questions about my experience with breast cancer--about feelings and treatments. I was happy to answer them. It helps to talk about it now, to get everything out before I suppress it, lock it away forever.
My friend has a sister-in-law with whom I feel some kinship of late. The sister-in-law had a double mastectomy last year. I’ve heard so much about her, though we’ve never met. I hope we do get to meet up one day.
I know my husband thinks I’m a frenzied bundle of activity these days. I say yes to every outing and am making many plans. I’m sure I will slow down in a while. Right now I want to create as many happy memories as I am able, as fast as I am able. I want to get healthy, grow stronger, be beautiful. I want to see old friends and make new ones. I want to shove the horror of the last six months far below the surf of Ocean Beach. Let the waves carry every bit of sadness far out to sea.
Yes, today was a wonderful treat. I loved letting the fresh air, the waves, and the love of a friend wash over me. And I let the waves carry my tears out to sea.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
Mother brought me roses the other day. And so my six-month bout with breast cancer ends as it began, with pink roses from my mother. The color is her favorite.
I used to love the color pink. It reminded me of satin ballet slippers, a baby’s cheeks, plum blossoms in springtime. And, of course, Mom.
Last October, “Breast Cancer Awareness Month,” the color was everywhere--from supermarket displays to T-shirts on marchers in San Francisco. Professional football players wore pink ribbons on their helmets. Their gloves were pink. So were their shoes. I liked it for a while, even after my diagnosis. Then, I couldn’t see pink ribbons without bursting into tears.
Well, there are no tears this Good Friday. Break out the bubbly. It’s my last day of radiation and then I am sprung. There is one more serious decision to be made--whether or not to take an estrogen-suppressing drug for five years. I don’t want to think about that today. I will think about it tomorrow.
Those who know me have wondered aloud how such a private person could put something so personal as her battle with breast cancer on the Internet. The first day, I published a blog to let my far-flung circle of friends know what was happening. And I needed the moral support. The second day, I wanted to thank everyone who had so warmly come to my side. I was going to stop there when my surgeon said, “I think you could be helping a lot of people.” So I persevered, not only with the blog but in my not-so-private war against cancer.
There is much more to be said, of course. I’ve learned about ways to navigate through surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, which I will share. There is much to be said about thwarting cancer to begin with and preventing its recurrence. There’s more to be written about the emotional side of the disease, the friendships that have deepened, life after cancer, and regaining one’s health and equilibrium.
I do believe anyone who has been diagnosed with cancer, gone through its surgeries and treatments, has seen the bowels of hell. I will not be looking for that yellow bus. Nothing can scare me now.*
*This blog will soon be transformed into a manuscript titled Nothing Can Scare Me Now: A Survivor’s Unvarnished Look at the Emotional Side of Breast Cancer. With hard work and good health, it should be finished this summer. Wish me luck.
I used to love the color pink. It reminded me of satin ballet slippers, a baby’s cheeks, plum blossoms in springtime. And, of course, Mom.
Last October, “Breast Cancer Awareness Month,” the color was everywhere--from supermarket displays to T-shirts on marchers in San Francisco. Professional football players wore pink ribbons on their helmets. Their gloves were pink. So were their shoes. I liked it for a while, even after my diagnosis. Then, I couldn’t see pink ribbons without bursting into tears.
Well, there are no tears this Good Friday. Break out the bubbly. It’s my last day of radiation and then I am sprung. There is one more serious decision to be made--whether or not to take an estrogen-suppressing drug for five years. I don’t want to think about that today. I will think about it tomorrow.
Those who know me have wondered aloud how such a private person could put something so personal as her battle with breast cancer on the Internet. The first day, I published a blog to let my far-flung circle of friends know what was happening. And I needed the moral support. The second day, I wanted to thank everyone who had so warmly come to my side. I was going to stop there when my surgeon said, “I think you could be helping a lot of people.” So I persevered, not only with the blog but in my not-so-private war against cancer.
There is much more to be said, of course. I’ve learned about ways to navigate through surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, which I will share. There is much to be said about thwarting cancer to begin with and preventing its recurrence. There’s more to be written about the emotional side of the disease, the friendships that have deepened, life after cancer, and regaining one’s health and equilibrium.
I do believe anyone who has been diagnosed with cancer, gone through its surgeries and treatments, has seen the bowels of hell. I will not be looking for that yellow bus. Nothing can scare me now.*
*This blog will soon be transformed into a manuscript titled Nothing Can Scare Me Now: A Survivor’s Unvarnished Look at the Emotional Side of Breast Cancer. With hard work and good health, it should be finished this summer. Wish me luck.
Monday, March 29, 2010
The radiation center in the San Francisco Bay Area, where I go for treatments, is giving out a pinup calendar. This one is pretty cute. It’s called Pinups for Purpose and features local breast cancer survivors as models.*
Like most people, I choose a calendar based on the photos used at the holidays and on my birth month. Imagine my surprise when I flipped to the month of August and saw a male model! His name is Burt. He’s standing in a stream holding a fishing rod. And he’s just snagged a silver-polka-dotted pink bra.
The photos are the work of Jeanette Vonier, a photographer whose mother is a two-time breast cancer survivor. Ms. Vonier has posed her subjects in 1950s vintage settings because, “The women in vintage pinups seem to retain some innocence. They find themselves in common situations that everyone can relate to with humor.” Money raised from the calendar’s sale is given to many charities. Two of these are: “To Celebrate Life Breast Cancer Foundation” and the “Sutter North Bay Women’s Health Center.”**
There is a short biography of each of the models at the beginning of the calendar. What strikes me is the common thread running through their stories. One woman sees cancer as the “biggest gift” of her life, forcing her to slow down and take stock. Another talks about it being a “gift of time, awareness and empathy.” Still another views it as a “positive and life changing experience.”
I keep thinking of something I just read in the book Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide. The authors, doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman, write, “No sane person would choose to have breast cancer or, having had it, would say it was an ennobling experience.” I’m mystified. How can one look back on breast cancer as a “gift.”
I suppose we all want things to happen for a reason. What if getting cancer is just bad luck? Some might say it happened “to make one a finer person.” Well, what if one was a pretty fine person to begin with? Or, perhaps it happened so one would learn to “stop and smell the roses.” Hey, I’ve stopped for plenty of roses over the years. Nope, at the moment there seems to be no rhyme or reason for having been stricken with breast cancer. Maybe, when time has softened the experience, I will see the why of it. I suppose that I, too, would like to think it happened for a reason.
*Pinups for Purpose: http://www.pinupsforpurpose.com/
**To Celebrate Life Breast Cancer Foundation: http://www.tocelebratelife.org/
**Sutter North Bay Women’s Health Center: http://www.ucomparehealthcare.com/
Like most people, I choose a calendar based on the photos used at the holidays and on my birth month. Imagine my surprise when I flipped to the month of August and saw a male model! His name is Burt. He’s standing in a stream holding a fishing rod. And he’s just snagged a silver-polka-dotted pink bra.
The photos are the work of Jeanette Vonier, a photographer whose mother is a two-time breast cancer survivor. Ms. Vonier has posed her subjects in 1950s vintage settings because, “The women in vintage pinups seem to retain some innocence. They find themselves in common situations that everyone can relate to with humor.” Money raised from the calendar’s sale is given to many charities. Two of these are: “To Celebrate Life Breast Cancer Foundation” and the “Sutter North Bay Women’s Health Center.”**
There is a short biography of each of the models at the beginning of the calendar. What strikes me is the common thread running through their stories. One woman sees cancer as the “biggest gift” of her life, forcing her to slow down and take stock. Another talks about it being a “gift of time, awareness and empathy.” Still another views it as a “positive and life changing experience.”
I keep thinking of something I just read in the book Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide. The authors, doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman, write, “No sane person would choose to have breast cancer or, having had it, would say it was an ennobling experience.” I’m mystified. How can one look back on breast cancer as a “gift.”
I suppose we all want things to happen for a reason. What if getting cancer is just bad luck? Some might say it happened “to make one a finer person.” Well, what if one was a pretty fine person to begin with? Or, perhaps it happened so one would learn to “stop and smell the roses.” Hey, I’ve stopped for plenty of roses over the years. Nope, at the moment there seems to be no rhyme or reason for having been stricken with breast cancer. Maybe, when time has softened the experience, I will see the why of it. I suppose that I, too, would like to think it happened for a reason.
*Pinups for Purpose: http://www.pinupsforpurpose.com/
**To Celebrate Life Breast Cancer Foundation: http://www.tocelebratelife.org/
**Sutter North Bay Women’s Health Center: http://www.ucomparehealthcare.com/
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
A few days ago my husband and I were surprised by a generous gift. The owner of his company had two tickets for a winemaker dinner, which he could not attend. So he gave the tickets to us.
The evening was hosted by the founders of Williamson Wines in Healdsburg, Calif.* The winemakers chose the Solbar, a Michelin Star restaurant in Calistoga, as the site for their dinner.** I cannot speak for the wine, as alcohol does not agree with me, but the meal was nothing short of fantastic. My husband can speak for the wine. He says it was very good indeed.
We arrived home from the Solbar at one o’clock the next morning. The company was that enjoyable, the evening that memorable. When I asked my husband what his favorite memory was, he told me what he’d told his boss. “The best part was seeing my wife laughing and having a blast. I haven’t seen her do that in six months.”
Sometimes my husband, a man who is not so expressive, amazes me. As a foodie, I definitely thought he’d mention the stinging nettle soup or the foie gras confit with poached apricots. As a lover of good wine, I thought he’d talk about the Sovereign, which Bill Williamson poured toward the end of the evening. Bill has bottled only one hundred magnums of this wine, for public sale, at $1,000 per bottle.
Upon reflection, I have to admit I have not been on the happier side of the emotional scale in quite a while. There is a range of feelings that accompanies breast cancer. Laughing with abandon is not one of them.
In their book Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide, doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman talk about there being no “particular program” for coping with the emotions of breast cancer. “No sane person,” they write, “would choose to have (the disease) or, having had it, would say it was an ennobling experience. Nobody who has had a grave illness, or who has lived through the experience of surgery, or who has worried about the effects of powerful treatments, would mouth such a platitude.”
Hirshaut and Pressman note that most women experience their highest levels of depression and anxiety right after surgery. How right they are. Until that point, they say, “There has been an enormous amount to get through from the time they first realized something was wrong, through the period of evaluating their choices and making decisions, through the surgery itself. Now they must face picking up their lives again and also coping with whatever further treatment has been decided upon.”
Of course, then come the fears that must be faced before each treatment begins. And the worry about their immediate and long-term effects. And knowing that family members nearby and time zones away are worrying as well.
“Everyone reacts differently to trouble,” write doctors Hirshaut and Pressman. “There is no ‘correct’ way to cope with or get over an experience as trying as breast cancer.” But, according to the doctors, “women are in fact coming through it with intelligence, sensitivity, and a very moving gallantry.”
Why is that not surprising?
*http://www.williamsonwines.com/
**http://www.solagecalistoga.com/
The evening was hosted by the founders of Williamson Wines in Healdsburg, Calif.* The winemakers chose the Solbar, a Michelin Star restaurant in Calistoga, as the site for their dinner.** I cannot speak for the wine, as alcohol does not agree with me, but the meal was nothing short of fantastic. My husband can speak for the wine. He says it was very good indeed.
We arrived home from the Solbar at one o’clock the next morning. The company was that enjoyable, the evening that memorable. When I asked my husband what his favorite memory was, he told me what he’d told his boss. “The best part was seeing my wife laughing and having a blast. I haven’t seen her do that in six months.”
Sometimes my husband, a man who is not so expressive, amazes me. As a foodie, I definitely thought he’d mention the stinging nettle soup or the foie gras confit with poached apricots. As a lover of good wine, I thought he’d talk about the Sovereign, which Bill Williamson poured toward the end of the evening. Bill has bottled only one hundred magnums of this wine, for public sale, at $1,000 per bottle.
Upon reflection, I have to admit I have not been on the happier side of the emotional scale in quite a while. There is a range of feelings that accompanies breast cancer. Laughing with abandon is not one of them.
In their book Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide, doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman talk about there being no “particular program” for coping with the emotions of breast cancer. “No sane person,” they write, “would choose to have (the disease) or, having had it, would say it was an ennobling experience. Nobody who has had a grave illness, or who has lived through the experience of surgery, or who has worried about the effects of powerful treatments, would mouth such a platitude.”
Hirshaut and Pressman note that most women experience their highest levels of depression and anxiety right after surgery. How right they are. Until that point, they say, “There has been an enormous amount to get through from the time they first realized something was wrong, through the period of evaluating their choices and making decisions, through the surgery itself. Now they must face picking up their lives again and also coping with whatever further treatment has been decided upon.”
Of course, then come the fears that must be faced before each treatment begins. And the worry about their immediate and long-term effects. And knowing that family members nearby and time zones away are worrying as well.
“Everyone reacts differently to trouble,” write doctors Hirshaut and Pressman. “There is no ‘correct’ way to cope with or get over an experience as trying as breast cancer.” But, according to the doctors, “women are in fact coming through it with intelligence, sensitivity, and a very moving gallantry.”
Why is that not surprising?
*http://www.williamsonwines.com/
**http://www.solagecalistoga.com/
Thursday, March 18, 2010
The gamut of emotions I’ve experienced since being diagnosed with breast cancer is very typical, from what I’ve been able to discern. One thing I’ve done that, apparently, is not typical is that I’ve not joined a support group.
I use the word “apparently” because my women friends always seem surprised when I tell them I haven’t joined up. “Why not?” they ask in almost startled fashion.
The answer isn’t so easily summed up. In the beginning, I suppose, I didn’t want to feel any weaker than I already did. And going to a group of strangers for support not only felt weak to me, it seemed cold.
There was a time, during the worst of the chemotherapy treatments, when I thought about finding such a group. But I didn’t have the strength to go. When I did feel better, I wanted to surround myself with healthy, upbeat people who could take my mind to a happier place.
Had the chemotherapy gone longer than three months, I think I would have sought out a group with like experiences. It had become wearying, explaining to family and friends what was happening with me before I could get a hug in return. That was all I wanted most of the time. No advice. No sympathy really. Just a hug.
In Dr. Susan Love’s Breast Book, she writes: “Sometimes, when you’re having chemotherapy, the people who were supportive in the beginning start to dribble off.” She hit that right on the nose. People who were there when I was diagnosed, and through two surgeries, began to fade away when chemotherapy began. Who could blame them? As the patient, I longed to get on with life, get back to “normal.” According to Dr. Love, when the interest from others fades, that’s a perfect time to find a support group.
Dr. Love talks about a “peculiar sort of funk” that sets in when surgeries and treatment end. She notes that support groups can even be sought out then. I hadn’t considered that. With the end of my treatment scant two weeks away, I find myself with a litany of questions that are, apparently, very typical:
--Am I cured?
--When there is no more chemotherapy or radiation going into my body, are the cancer cells waiting to coalesce and strike?
--My body betrayed me once, will it again?
--Will there be after effects from the treatments that will cause trouble in the future?
--What can I do with diet and exercise to reduce the likelihood of recurrence?
--The oncologists at my HMO are sure to want to push me into taking a hormone suppressant. What of the side effects and after effects from these?
I have talked with women who are in touch, seventeen years later, with friends made in their support groups. There is much, I hear, to be said in their favor. Once the preoccupation with treatment is behind me, I may yet join one. It’s been a traumatic whirlwind and it might be good to discuss it with people who have been there.
The American Cancer Society has a nice online article that goes through the things to consider when searching for a group. According to the article, “Some needs are best addressed in a support group. Examples are the need for information, such as how children typically react to a parent’s diagnosis, how to explain your diagnosis at work, or how to communicate better with your doctor. The intensity of your feelings about a situation will also help you to decide about attending a group. You may feel so upset about your situation that the idea of discussing it with others makes it worse.”
Here are a few links to support groups for those who might need one:
--American Cancer Society
http://www.cancer.org/docroot/ESN/esn_3.asp?sitearea=ESN
--National Cancer Institute
http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/wyntk/breast/page13. Information specialists at 1-800-422-6237 and at LiveHelp (http://www.cancer.gov/help) can help locate programs, services, and publications.
--Susan G. Komen
http://ww5.komen.org/breastcancer/support.html. Breast care helpline at 1-877-465-6636 for more information. The breast care helpline provides free, professional support services to anyone with breast health or breast cancer questions or concerns.
I use the word “apparently” because my women friends always seem surprised when I tell them I haven’t joined up. “Why not?” they ask in almost startled fashion.
The answer isn’t so easily summed up. In the beginning, I suppose, I didn’t want to feel any weaker than I already did. And going to a group of strangers for support not only felt weak to me, it seemed cold.
There was a time, during the worst of the chemotherapy treatments, when I thought about finding such a group. But I didn’t have the strength to go. When I did feel better, I wanted to surround myself with healthy, upbeat people who could take my mind to a happier place.
Had the chemotherapy gone longer than three months, I think I would have sought out a group with like experiences. It had become wearying, explaining to family and friends what was happening with me before I could get a hug in return. That was all I wanted most of the time. No advice. No sympathy really. Just a hug.
In Dr. Susan Love’s Breast Book, she writes: “Sometimes, when you’re having chemotherapy, the people who were supportive in the beginning start to dribble off.” She hit that right on the nose. People who were there when I was diagnosed, and through two surgeries, began to fade away when chemotherapy began. Who could blame them? As the patient, I longed to get on with life, get back to “normal.” According to Dr. Love, when the interest from others fades, that’s a perfect time to find a support group.
Dr. Love talks about a “peculiar sort of funk” that sets in when surgeries and treatment end. She notes that support groups can even be sought out then. I hadn’t considered that. With the end of my treatment scant two weeks away, I find myself with a litany of questions that are, apparently, very typical:
--Am I cured?
--When there is no more chemotherapy or radiation going into my body, are the cancer cells waiting to coalesce and strike?
--My body betrayed me once, will it again?
--Will there be after effects from the treatments that will cause trouble in the future?
--What can I do with diet and exercise to reduce the likelihood of recurrence?
--The oncologists at my HMO are sure to want to push me into taking a hormone suppressant. What of the side effects and after effects from these?
I have talked with women who are in touch, seventeen years later, with friends made in their support groups. There is much, I hear, to be said in their favor. Once the preoccupation with treatment is behind me, I may yet join one. It’s been a traumatic whirlwind and it might be good to discuss it with people who have been there.
The American Cancer Society has a nice online article that goes through the things to consider when searching for a group. According to the article, “Some needs are best addressed in a support group. Examples are the need for information, such as how children typically react to a parent’s diagnosis, how to explain your diagnosis at work, or how to communicate better with your doctor. The intensity of your feelings about a situation will also help you to decide about attending a group. You may feel so upset about your situation that the idea of discussing it with others makes it worse.”
Here are a few links to support groups for those who might need one:
--American Cancer Society
http://www.cancer.org/docroot/ESN/esn_3.asp?sitearea=ESN
--National Cancer Institute
http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/wyntk/breast/page13. Information specialists at 1-800-422-6237 and at LiveHelp (http://www.cancer.gov/help) can help locate programs, services, and publications.
--Susan G. Komen
http://ww5.komen.org/breastcancer/support.html. Breast care helpline at 1-877-465-6636 for more information. The breast care helpline provides free, professional support services to anyone with breast health or breast cancer questions or concerns.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Over dinner a few nights ago, a friend in my book club asked me how my radiation treatments were going. I told her, “So far, so good.” She volunteered that, one day, what is currently the standard of care for cancers of all types will seem arcane.
As my friend is a microbiologist running her own firm, I asked what she thought future therapies for cancer might be like. “Maybe a regimen of pills and shots,” she volunteered.
We both agreed that a vaccine would be nice. However, as the causes of cancer--especially breast cancer--still seem a mystery, a vaccine will be difficult to develop. One can dream.
In Dr. Susan Love’s Breast Book I found this tantalizing mention of vaccination: “We have always dreamed of finding something distinctive about the cancer cell and developing a therapy specific to it. We would then give the antibody, kill or control all of the cancer cells, and do little or no harm to the rest of the body.”*
In a section of the book called, What Is Coming, Dr. Love describes ongoing research. She says promising new findings are “already in the pipeline. It’s not fantasy; it’s a question of how soon we’ll know what to do with our knowledge.”
What she wrote next really surprised me: “In the future breast cancer may be as treatable as high blood pressure and diabetes are today. These diseases can be effectively treated by controlling the symptoms with medication without totally eliminating the underlying disease. The rehabilitation of the cancer cell may be an effective treatment so that the patient, while still having cancer, will be alive and well.”
“Even better,” Dr. Love goes on, “we will be able to stop breast cancer at its source--destroy the cells lining the milk ducts where all breast cancer starts. In this way, we will be able to prevent it all together.”
As Dr. Love notes in the dedication of her book, “We are working hard toward the day when our daughters and nieces will never have to hear the words ‘you have breast cancer.’”
Wouldn’t that be just fantastic?
*Dr. Susan Love's internet site: http://www.dslrf.org/breastcancer/
As my friend is a microbiologist running her own firm, I asked what she thought future therapies for cancer might be like. “Maybe a regimen of pills and shots,” she volunteered.
We both agreed that a vaccine would be nice. However, as the causes of cancer--especially breast cancer--still seem a mystery, a vaccine will be difficult to develop. One can dream.
In Dr. Susan Love’s Breast Book I found this tantalizing mention of vaccination: “We have always dreamed of finding something distinctive about the cancer cell and developing a therapy specific to it. We would then give the antibody, kill or control all of the cancer cells, and do little or no harm to the rest of the body.”*
In a section of the book called, What Is Coming, Dr. Love describes ongoing research. She says promising new findings are “already in the pipeline. It’s not fantasy; it’s a question of how soon we’ll know what to do with our knowledge.”
What she wrote next really surprised me: “In the future breast cancer may be as treatable as high blood pressure and diabetes are today. These diseases can be effectively treated by controlling the symptoms with medication without totally eliminating the underlying disease. The rehabilitation of the cancer cell may be an effective treatment so that the patient, while still having cancer, will be alive and well.”
“Even better,” Dr. Love goes on, “we will be able to stop breast cancer at its source--destroy the cells lining the milk ducts where all breast cancer starts. In this way, we will be able to prevent it all together.”
As Dr. Love notes in the dedication of her book, “We are working hard toward the day when our daughters and nieces will never have to hear the words ‘you have breast cancer.’”
Wouldn’t that be just fantastic?
*Dr. Susan Love's internet site: http://www.dslrf.org/breastcancer/
Saturday, March 13, 2010
I have now been zapped by a linear accelerator for five days running. One week of radiation therapy down, three more to go. So far, this breast cancer treatment has been much easier to withstand than chemotherapy, for which I’m glad.
Sometimes I think about the story a friend of mine told me. She’d planned a dream vacation to Alaska with her sister. When treatment for an aggressive cancer weakened her sister, there was some debate over going forward with the plans. But the sister wasn’t sure about her chances for survival, so the trip was on. My friend ended up making the arrangements, driving their rented motor home, and handling all the details during their vacation. Her sister, so independent in the past, seemed incapable of doing anything.
I know how easy it is to feel like an invalid, a victim. Friends and family can be very kind after learning that a loved one has been diagnosed with serious illness. People offer to bring meals, drive the patient wherever she needs to go, and take care of the house. When one is recovering from surgery, or felled by chemotherapy, it is easy to accept.
The time does come when the patient feels better. And yet, the invalid mindset persists. “I’m still weak, how far can I drive? How much exercise can my body safely do? Should I push myself or should I rest? Should I make my plans or take a pass for now?”
I had the invalid mindset for about two weeks. Now my mind has flipped in the opposite direction. Oncologists say the effect of radiation is cumulative. Fatigue can set in fairly soon. So I want to get everything on my list accomplished at once. All I missed out on during the surgeries and chemotherapy must be handled now. Plans for my own dream vacation must be fast tracked. The outline for the non-fiction manuscript I am writing must be done yesterday.
What lesson from my illness have I forgotten? It went like this: Family and friends first. All the rest in good time. How quickly one forgets.
Sometimes I think about the story a friend of mine told me. She’d planned a dream vacation to Alaska with her sister. When treatment for an aggressive cancer weakened her sister, there was some debate over going forward with the plans. But the sister wasn’t sure about her chances for survival, so the trip was on. My friend ended up making the arrangements, driving their rented motor home, and handling all the details during their vacation. Her sister, so independent in the past, seemed incapable of doing anything.
I know how easy it is to feel like an invalid, a victim. Friends and family can be very kind after learning that a loved one has been diagnosed with serious illness. People offer to bring meals, drive the patient wherever she needs to go, and take care of the house. When one is recovering from surgery, or felled by chemotherapy, it is easy to accept.
The time does come when the patient feels better. And yet, the invalid mindset persists. “I’m still weak, how far can I drive? How much exercise can my body safely do? Should I push myself or should I rest? Should I make my plans or take a pass for now?”
I had the invalid mindset for about two weeks. Now my mind has flipped in the opposite direction. Oncologists say the effect of radiation is cumulative. Fatigue can set in fairly soon. So I want to get everything on my list accomplished at once. All I missed out on during the surgeries and chemotherapy must be handled now. Plans for my own dream vacation must be fast tracked. The outline for the non-fiction manuscript I am writing must be done yesterday.
What lesson from my illness have I forgotten? It went like this: Family and friends first. All the rest in good time. How quickly one forgets.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
This past weekend my hand must have brushed across my head a thousand times. It was so automatic, I didn’t realize I was doing it. On Sunday afternoon my husband finally said, ever so matter-of-factly, “Your hair is growing back.”
“Really?” I asked. “So that’s why it feels different. But I can’t see anything.”
Sure enough, when I inspected my head in the mirror I could see peach fuzz about an eighth of an inch high. Poking through the few strands of hair I never did lose through chemotherapy, the new hair is totally white. Doctors tell patients that the new growth can come in completely grey. It can take up to two years for the full pigment to come back.
There are other signs of rebirth. I managed to hold onto my eyelashes (some women lose those, too). But the lashes that had fallen out before my chemotherapy regimen began had created open spaces. Now there are tiny stubs where the lashes are coming back.
The first sign of regrowth I noticed was in the fingernails. They’d turned red and looked a bit brittle during the time their growth was interrupted. Now, near the cuticle, there is a quarter-inch of healthy color where they are growing out.
It’s odd to see the body regenerate. My husband likens it to watching a baby’s growth. The hair coming in. Cutting the first tiny fingernails. Observing the little one for every sign of maturation, of becoming a real person.
The difference is that a baby doesn’t know what’s happening. Adults do. I doubt I’ll ever take my full head of thick hair or my healthy fingernails for granted again. Lord, please make them grow as fast as you can!
“Really?” I asked. “So that’s why it feels different. But I can’t see anything.”
Sure enough, when I inspected my head in the mirror I could see peach fuzz about an eighth of an inch high. Poking through the few strands of hair I never did lose through chemotherapy, the new hair is totally white. Doctors tell patients that the new growth can come in completely grey. It can take up to two years for the full pigment to come back.
There are other signs of rebirth. I managed to hold onto my eyelashes (some women lose those, too). But the lashes that had fallen out before my chemotherapy regimen began had created open spaces. Now there are tiny stubs where the lashes are coming back.
The first sign of regrowth I noticed was in the fingernails. They’d turned red and looked a bit brittle during the time their growth was interrupted. Now, near the cuticle, there is a quarter-inch of healthy color where they are growing out.
It’s odd to see the body regenerate. My husband likens it to watching a baby’s growth. The hair coming in. Cutting the first tiny fingernails. Observing the little one for every sign of maturation, of becoming a real person.
The difference is that a baby doesn’t know what’s happening. Adults do. I doubt I’ll ever take my full head of thick hair or my healthy fingernails for granted again. Lord, please make them grow as fast as you can!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
I had my first “zapping” under the linear accelerator yesterday. It took all of ten minutes, eight for positioning me in place and waiting for the machine to move around, and two when the radiation beams were actually on.
The $2.5 million-dollar linear accelerator is huge. My husband was impressed at the alacrity with which it circulated around the table I was lying upon. I noticed that, when the beams were on, everyone scurried from the room and my husband was shooed out. I wonder why it’s safe for me to be in there, yet others run out? I will have to ask the oncologist about that when I see him.
My husband drove me to the radiation center, which is not far from our home. We had no idea whether I’d be uncomfortable or fatigued afterward. As it turned out, I felt fine. I understand that, with this treatment, the effects are cumulative. “Sunburn” at the treatment site, tenderness, and fatigue are the most common side effects.
I have to say that this whole breast cancer “episode” feels a bit like being in a science fiction movie. The director says, “This is what you have. This is what we do. This is how long it takes. If you want to live, you’ll get with the program.”
We all want to live, so we get with the program. The radiation routine will last four weeks, after which I will be sprung. Yippee. In the meantime, there is an oddball list of dos and don’ts I’m to follow. The “dos” include good nutrition, hydration, light exercise and adequate rest. Also, I’m to report any new or worsening side effects to the doctor. I’m to use mild soap, wear comfortable loose clothing, and keep the treated area out of direct sunlight.
The list of “don’ts” starts with not using deodorants containing aluminum. (The aluminum can burn under the radiation beam.) No underwire or sports bras. No vitamin A, C, or E supplements. No lotions, creams, or powders before treatments. No shaving in the treated area. No excessive rubbing.
None of these is difficult. It’s just remembering to do, or not do, what the doctor recommends. I’m sure that, by the time the routine becomes second nature, it will be over. Meantime, I thought I’d include a photo of the linear accelerator. Impressive, is it not?
The $2.5 million-dollar linear accelerator is huge. My husband was impressed at the alacrity with which it circulated around the table I was lying upon. I noticed that, when the beams were on, everyone scurried from the room and my husband was shooed out. I wonder why it’s safe for me to be in there, yet others run out? I will have to ask the oncologist about that when I see him.
My husband drove me to the radiation center, which is not far from our home. We had no idea whether I’d be uncomfortable or fatigued afterward. As it turned out, I felt fine. I understand that, with this treatment, the effects are cumulative. “Sunburn” at the treatment site, tenderness, and fatigue are the most common side effects.
I have to say that this whole breast cancer “episode” feels a bit like being in a science fiction movie. The director says, “This is what you have. This is what we do. This is how long it takes. If you want to live, you’ll get with the program.”
We all want to live, so we get with the program. The radiation routine will last four weeks, after which I will be sprung. Yippee. In the meantime, there is an oddball list of dos and don’ts I’m to follow. The “dos” include good nutrition, hydration, light exercise and adequate rest. Also, I’m to report any new or worsening side effects to the doctor. I’m to use mild soap, wear comfortable loose clothing, and keep the treated area out of direct sunlight.
The list of “don’ts” starts with not using deodorants containing aluminum. (The aluminum can burn under the radiation beam.) No underwire or sports bras. No vitamin A, C, or E supplements. No lotions, creams, or powders before treatments. No shaving in the treated area. No excessive rubbing.
None of these is difficult. It’s just remembering to do, or not do, what the doctor recommends. I’m sure that, by the time the routine becomes second nature, it will be over. Meantime, I thought I’d include a photo of the linear accelerator. Impressive, is it not?
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Some statistics you never forget. In my mind, I am cured of cancer. The tumor’s been removed. I’ve had chemotherapy. Yet, according to oncologists, there is a twenty to forty percent chance that cancer can return to the same area without radiation treatment. It’s too bad because I’m close to feeling “normal” again and would just as soon skip this next phase.
But twenty to forty percent is a large number. And so I start radiation treatment Monday. With trepidation at all the things that can go wrong. With fears of long-term after effects and immediate side effects. Lying under the gigantic linear accelerator where I had my “dry run” last week.
The chief radiation oncologist at my HMO told me that doctors have tried to cherry pick cases, those with good prognosis, to see whether they could get away with doing no radiation. No one’s been successful at that, apparently.
Radiation shrinks the odds of local recurrence (in the same area) to five percent, the oncologist told me. Put another way, the chance of preserving the breast with radiation is close to ninety-five percent. “In terms of cosmetic outcome,” he said, “it’s hard to beat keeping what you have. Put that together with our ability to cure you to be the same, breast conservation is a very good choice. That’s the reason for doing the radiation.”
I asked why the whole breast has to be zapped. Why not just beam the area where the tumor was removed? It seems there has been some research in that department. According to my oncologist, the option is interesting but likely will not become standard because the cosmetic outcome isn’t as good. There is more fibrosis and a denseness of the area that is treated.
We discussed other forms of treatment. Radiation can be delivered from inside the breast through an array of needles. Evidently, women haven’t been clamoring to have this procedure because it is more invasive. However, there are studies that show it is effective. And the array of catheters in the breast is only there over a three-day period.
Another form of radiation therapy is delivered at the time of surgery. A balloon, through which radiation is delivered, is sewn into the lumpectomy cavity of the breast. This is a fairly new procedure, so not enough data is available on its effectiveness. “On top of that,” said the oncologist, “it’s probably only treating about a centimeter of tissue around the cavity.”
A couple of journals, Radiology Today and Medical News Today, have reported on another technique that appears to hold promise. Called intraoperative electron radiation therapy (IOERT), it is “the application of electron beam radiation directly to a tumor or tumor bed during surgery,” according to Radiology Today.
Not everyone is a candidate for the IOERT technique. But what a blessing for those who can make use of it. The tumor area is radiated while the wound is open. The surgery to remove the tumor and the radiation treatment are, potentially, done in one day. Any microscopic cancer cells near the area of the tumor can be hit while they are most vulnerable. Healthy skin that might be radiated with conventional external-beam radiation can be spared.
Of course there are obstacles. Most operating rooms are not equipped with mobile electron linear accelerators. And transporting a patient in the midst of an operation to a shielded area where there is a conventional linear accelerator presents risks and challenges. Then there is the high cost, which helps explain why few hospitals are equipped to administer IOERT therapy.
Still, some of these new techniques show a lot of promise. I can only hope that, one day, the notion of going to a cancer radiation center every day for four to ten weeks will seem arcane. And wouldn’t that be a blessing?
But twenty to forty percent is a large number. And so I start radiation treatment Monday. With trepidation at all the things that can go wrong. With fears of long-term after effects and immediate side effects. Lying under the gigantic linear accelerator where I had my “dry run” last week.
The chief radiation oncologist at my HMO told me that doctors have tried to cherry pick cases, those with good prognosis, to see whether they could get away with doing no radiation. No one’s been successful at that, apparently.
Radiation shrinks the odds of local recurrence (in the same area) to five percent, the oncologist told me. Put another way, the chance of preserving the breast with radiation is close to ninety-five percent. “In terms of cosmetic outcome,” he said, “it’s hard to beat keeping what you have. Put that together with our ability to cure you to be the same, breast conservation is a very good choice. That’s the reason for doing the radiation.”
I asked why the whole breast has to be zapped. Why not just beam the area where the tumor was removed? It seems there has been some research in that department. According to my oncologist, the option is interesting but likely will not become standard because the cosmetic outcome isn’t as good. There is more fibrosis and a denseness of the area that is treated.
We discussed other forms of treatment. Radiation can be delivered from inside the breast through an array of needles. Evidently, women haven’t been clamoring to have this procedure because it is more invasive. However, there are studies that show it is effective. And the array of catheters in the breast is only there over a three-day period.
Another form of radiation therapy is delivered at the time of surgery. A balloon, through which radiation is delivered, is sewn into the lumpectomy cavity of the breast. This is a fairly new procedure, so not enough data is available on its effectiveness. “On top of that,” said the oncologist, “it’s probably only treating about a centimeter of tissue around the cavity.”
A couple of journals, Radiology Today and Medical News Today, have reported on another technique that appears to hold promise. Called intraoperative electron radiation therapy (IOERT), it is “the application of electron beam radiation directly to a tumor or tumor bed during surgery,” according to Radiology Today.
Not everyone is a candidate for the IOERT technique. But what a blessing for those who can make use of it. The tumor area is radiated while the wound is open. The surgery to remove the tumor and the radiation treatment are, potentially, done in one day. Any microscopic cancer cells near the area of the tumor can be hit while they are most vulnerable. Healthy skin that might be radiated with conventional external-beam radiation can be spared.
Of course there are obstacles. Most operating rooms are not equipped with mobile electron linear accelerators. And transporting a patient in the midst of an operation to a shielded area where there is a conventional linear accelerator presents risks and challenges. Then there is the high cost, which helps explain why few hospitals are equipped to administer IOERT therapy.
Still, some of these new techniques show a lot of promise. I can only hope that, one day, the notion of going to a cancer radiation center every day for four to ten weeks will seem arcane. And wouldn’t that be a blessing?
Friday, March 5, 2010
One of the grandsons, twelve-year-old Stephen, called me last night. He wanted to know how I was feeling with my breast cancer and hoped I would be okay. I told him I was fine and would be fully cured. He allowed that that was good, then asked whether I wanted to hear about the snail races. Absolutely.
Stephen explained that his brother had set up two tracks for several snails to “run,” one lane with foil and another with sandpaper. It took seven to eight minutes. Eventually, one of the snails did make it to the end of the track. I grinned as he told me all the details in his breathy, little-boy voice. Snail races sounded like a lot of fun.
We talked about the Olympics. Stephen loved watching Shaun White, naturally. As Stephen snowboards, that is what he wants his profession to be. He’s targeting the 2014 winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia. That’s great. Goals are good to have.
Stephen told me about his dog, a labradoodle named Indy. The dog is hypoallergenic, he said, which is good because Stephen has a few allergies.
I asked about school, of course. Stephen loves it and his teacher. The best part, he said, is fixing up old bicycles to give away to kids whose parents can’t afford bikes. Stephen and his classmates have learned to spiff up the used bikes pretty well.
“Would you like to hear a fun fact I learned today?” Stephen asked. “The continent of South America is moving at the rate your fingernails grow every day. One day, maybe two billion years from now, South America will be a separate continent.”
That’s pretty cool, Stephen. And so are you, kiddo. So are you.
Stephen explained that his brother had set up two tracks for several snails to “run,” one lane with foil and another with sandpaper. It took seven to eight minutes. Eventually, one of the snails did make it to the end of the track. I grinned as he told me all the details in his breathy, little-boy voice. Snail races sounded like a lot of fun.
We talked about the Olympics. Stephen loved watching Shaun White, naturally. As Stephen snowboards, that is what he wants his profession to be. He’s targeting the 2014 winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia. That’s great. Goals are good to have.
Stephen told me about his dog, a labradoodle named Indy. The dog is hypoallergenic, he said, which is good because Stephen has a few allergies.
I asked about school, of course. Stephen loves it and his teacher. The best part, he said, is fixing up old bicycles to give away to kids whose parents can’t afford bikes. Stephen and his classmates have learned to spiff up the used bikes pretty well.
“Would you like to hear a fun fact I learned today?” Stephen asked. “The continent of South America is moving at the rate your fingernails grow every day. One day, maybe two billion years from now, South America will be a separate continent.”
That’s pretty cool, Stephen. And so are you, kiddo. So are you.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
No one knows what causes breast cancer. There are many factors that are believed to elevate the risk. According to the The National Cancer Institute’s booklet What You Need To Know About Breast Cancer, there are a number of “risk factors.” I’ve reproduced the list from the booklet, for the most part, here:
--Age: Most women are diagnosed with breast cancer when they are over sixty years old. The chance of getting the disease increases with age.
--Personal history: Having cancer in one breast increases the risk of getting it in the other. Having certain types of abnormal cells in the breast also increases the risk.
--Family history: If a mother, father, sister, or daughter had breast cancer a woman’s chance of getting it is higher.
--Genes: Changes in certain genes, such as BRCA1 or BRCA2, increase the risk.
--Radiation therapy to the chest: Women who’ve had radiation therapy to the chest before age thirty are at increased risk.
--Race: Caucasian women are at higher risk than African American, Hispanic, Asian, American Indian, or Alaska Native women.
--Breast density: Women whose breasts have more dense and fatty tissue are at higher risk.
--Weight: Women who are overweight after menopause are at increased risk.
--Physical activity: Physically inactive women may be at higher risk.
--Alcohol: Studies suggest the more a woman drinks, the greater her risk.
--History of DES: Some pregnant women were given DES in the United States between about 1940 and 1971. Women who received DES are at slightly higher risk.
Reproductive and menstrual history:
--The older a woman is when she has her first child, the greater the risk of her having breast cancer.
--Women who’ve never had children are at higher risk.
--Women who began the menstrual cycle before age twelve are at risk.
--Women who experienced menopause after age fifty-five are at increased risk.
--Women who’ve taken menopausal hormone therapy for many years are at higher risk.
--Age: Most women are diagnosed with breast cancer when they are over sixty years old. The chance of getting the disease increases with age.
--Personal history: Having cancer in one breast increases the risk of getting it in the other. Having certain types of abnormal cells in the breast also increases the risk.
--Family history: If a mother, father, sister, or daughter had breast cancer a woman’s chance of getting it is higher.
--Genes: Changes in certain genes, such as BRCA1 or BRCA2, increase the risk.
--Radiation therapy to the chest: Women who’ve had radiation therapy to the chest before age thirty are at increased risk.
--Race: Caucasian women are at higher risk than African American, Hispanic, Asian, American Indian, or Alaska Native women.
--Breast density: Women whose breasts have more dense and fatty tissue are at higher risk.
--Weight: Women who are overweight after menopause are at increased risk.
--Physical activity: Physically inactive women may be at higher risk.
--Alcohol: Studies suggest the more a woman drinks, the greater her risk.
--History of DES: Some pregnant women were given DES in the United States between about 1940 and 1971. Women who received DES are at slightly higher risk.
Reproductive and menstrual history:
--The older a woman is when she has her first child, the greater the risk of her having breast cancer.
--Women who’ve never had children are at higher risk.
--Women who began the menstrual cycle before age twelve are at risk.
--Women who experienced menopause after age fifty-five are at increased risk.
--Women who’ve taken menopausal hormone therapy for many years are at higher risk.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
When the body is otherwise healthy, it is easy to dismiss symptoms that something might be going wrong. More than three years ago, there was a brief period of time when I noticed a wild pinching sensation in the OFB (offending body part). The pinching subsided, then came and went. Over time, I got used to it. After the cancerous tumor was removed from my breast in October 2009, the pinching disappeared. Lesson number one, listen to what your body is telling you.
The National Cancer Institute (NCI) has produced a booklet called What You Need To Know About Breast Cancer. In one section, the booklet notes that early breast cancer usually has no symptoms. As the tumor grows, it can change the look and feel of the breast. I’ve listed the common changes from the booklet here:
--A lump or thickening in or near the breast or in the underarm area.
--A change in the size or shape of the breast.
--Dimpling or puckering in the skin of the breast.
--A nipple turned inward into the breast.
--Discharge (fluid) from the nipple, especially if it’s bloody.
--Scaly, red, or swollen skin on the breast, nipple, or areola (the dark area of skin at the center of the breast). The skin may have ridges or pitting so that it looks like the skin of an orange.
These symptoms are often not due to cancer, according to the booklet. Another health problem could cause them. Any of these symptoms should be evaluated by a woman’s doctor so they can be diagnosed and treated.
The NCI recommends that women in their forties and older have mammograms every one or two years.
The National Cancer Institute (NCI) has produced a booklet called What You Need To Know About Breast Cancer. In one section, the booklet notes that early breast cancer usually has no symptoms. As the tumor grows, it can change the look and feel of the breast. I’ve listed the common changes from the booklet here:
--A lump or thickening in or near the breast or in the underarm area.
--A change in the size or shape of the breast.
--Dimpling or puckering in the skin of the breast.
--A nipple turned inward into the breast.
--Discharge (fluid) from the nipple, especially if it’s bloody.
--Scaly, red, or swollen skin on the breast, nipple, or areola (the dark area of skin at the center of the breast). The skin may have ridges or pitting so that it looks like the skin of an orange.
These symptoms are often not due to cancer, according to the booklet. Another health problem could cause them. Any of these symptoms should be evaluated by a woman’s doctor so they can be diagnosed and treated.
The NCI recommends that women in their forties and older have mammograms every one or two years.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The great food experiment continues. As sugar turns to fat in the body, and is also known to feed cancer (once the body has cancer), white refined sugar has been jettisoned from my house.
I do still like things sweet, so I’m taste-testing several sweetener alternatives I recently picked up at the market. The favorite, by far, is Gipson’s Golden Blackberry Honey. Raw and unfiltered, it comes from Santa Rosa, Calif. It’s delicious. But it does add its own flavor to beverages.
If the blackberry flavor isn’t one that’s desired in tea or coffee, what else will work? There are the traditional ersatz sugars, such as Equal, Splenda, and Sweet ‘N Low. Plenty of people swear by these. They’re not my favorite, so I’ve checked around for other products that might work.
There is pure cane sugar, washed and raw, from C&H--the people who bring us the white refined stuff. It comes in a resealable bag and contains molasses naturally. It does the job of the white sugar, but is a bit less sweet.
I’ve tried a brand of raw cane sugar called Full Circle. It is organic, also comes in a resealable bag, and calls itself “demerara” cane sugar. It’s a product of Brazil and Paraguay. The internet site http://www.wisegeek.com/ maintains that the sugar is named after a colony in Guyana, which first began producing and selling it in volume. According to the site, “To make demerara sugar, sugar producers press sugar cane and steam the juice of the first pressing to form thick cane syrup. The cane syrup is allowed to dehydrate, leaving behind large golden brown crystals of sugar. Because demerara sugar is not heavily refined, it has a rich, creamy, molasses-like flavor which enhances baked goods.”
My last pick is Light Agave Nectar. I haven’t yet used it. A quick taste reveals that it has a very different flavor. We’ll see how it does in tea and coffee. It’s a product of Mexico, is organic, and is extracted from the agave cactus plant. According to the label, it is twenty-five percent sweeter than sugar and has a low “glycemic index to prevent a spike in blood sugar.”
So far, to be honest, the sugar that does the job best for me is the cane sugar that comes from C&H. Breaking off the sweet stuff is hard to do.
I do still like things sweet, so I’m taste-testing several sweetener alternatives I recently picked up at the market. The favorite, by far, is Gipson’s Golden Blackberry Honey. Raw and unfiltered, it comes from Santa Rosa, Calif. It’s delicious. But it does add its own flavor to beverages.
If the blackberry flavor isn’t one that’s desired in tea or coffee, what else will work? There are the traditional ersatz sugars, such as Equal, Splenda, and Sweet ‘N Low. Plenty of people swear by these. They’re not my favorite, so I’ve checked around for other products that might work.
There is pure cane sugar, washed and raw, from C&H--the people who bring us the white refined stuff. It comes in a resealable bag and contains molasses naturally. It does the job of the white sugar, but is a bit less sweet.
I’ve tried a brand of raw cane sugar called Full Circle. It is organic, also comes in a resealable bag, and calls itself “demerara” cane sugar. It’s a product of Brazil and Paraguay. The internet site http://www.wisegeek.com/ maintains that the sugar is named after a colony in Guyana, which first began producing and selling it in volume. According to the site, “To make demerara sugar, sugar producers press sugar cane and steam the juice of the first pressing to form thick cane syrup. The cane syrup is allowed to dehydrate, leaving behind large golden brown crystals of sugar. Because demerara sugar is not heavily refined, it has a rich, creamy, molasses-like flavor which enhances baked goods.”
My last pick is Light Agave Nectar. I haven’t yet used it. A quick taste reveals that it has a very different flavor. We’ll see how it does in tea and coffee. It’s a product of Mexico, is organic, and is extracted from the agave cactus plant. According to the label, it is twenty-five percent sweeter than sugar and has a low “glycemic index to prevent a spike in blood sugar.”
So far, to be honest, the sugar that does the job best for me is the cane sugar that comes from C&H. Breaking off the sweet stuff is hard to do.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The Olympic flame has been extinguished in Vancouver, British Columbia. For sixteen days we were treated to spectacular athleticism, stunning beauty, and the raw power of sport. It was marvelous to watch and to feel, however fleetingly, a kinship with so many countries around the globe.
Years ago, when I skied with a ski club, I would feel great excitement at the time of the winter games. I could only imagine what it would take to push the body to that level of competitiveness. This year, watching from a body depleted by illness, I had a different perspective on the games.
I watched skiers popping through the mogul field and wondered what their knees would be telling them years hence. I saw bobsledders eject onto the course and wondered what that was doing to their backs. I listened to the list of injuries athletes skated, skied, and raced through and thought how terrific to be at an age where it was possible to forge through injuries in that fashion.
All in all, the games were an amazing spectacle. The heights snowboarders reached were incredible. The speed at which bobsledders hurtled down the track were amazing. Who will ever forget the image of a figure skater sending kisses to the heavens after a performance following her mother’s sudden death? Who can forget the U.S. goalie’s collapse on the ice after hockey team Canada sent the winning puck into the net?
How quickly the games got to be an old friend. I shall miss their company and the lift to the spirit they provided.
Years ago, when I skied with a ski club, I would feel great excitement at the time of the winter games. I could only imagine what it would take to push the body to that level of competitiveness. This year, watching from a body depleted by illness, I had a different perspective on the games.
I watched skiers popping through the mogul field and wondered what their knees would be telling them years hence. I saw bobsledders eject onto the course and wondered what that was doing to their backs. I listened to the list of injuries athletes skated, skied, and raced through and thought how terrific to be at an age where it was possible to forge through injuries in that fashion.
All in all, the games were an amazing spectacle. The heights snowboarders reached were incredible. The speed at which bobsledders hurtled down the track were amazing. Who will ever forget the image of a figure skater sending kisses to the heavens after a performance following her mother’s sudden death? Who can forget the U.S. goalie’s collapse on the ice after hockey team Canada sent the winning puck into the net?
How quickly the games got to be an old friend. I shall miss their company and the lift to the spirit they provided.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Tenacious, ragged, and wild, I never did lose my eyebrows with chemotherapy. It figures, because that was one feature I was really hoping to shed. Nope, they are as stubborn as the German/Italian who owns them. At least, once shaped last December, they stayed in line for a little while.
I’d hoped to be able to start from scratch, as it were. Maybe I would pencil in some sexy Marilyn Monroe brows. Then I’d thought about painting them in Joan Crawford-style, nice and sultry. Joan’s are still a bit heavy for my taste. So I googled “actress eyebrows” for more ideas. That yielded some good ones.
Natalie Portman is a standout in the brows department. I think it helps if you look pouty and reveal lots of shoulder and cleavage. Keira Knightley looks pretty good. But there’s lots of hair covering her face, so it’s hard to get a real peek at what her brows are all about. Scarlett Johansson has eyebrows that are perfectly shaped. Scarlett is very blonde, however. I don’t think those would fit my coloring.
Back at the drawing board, I googled “eyebrows” and came up with a website called “Find the
Perfect Eyebrow Shape for your Faceshape” at http://www.eyebrowz.com/faceshape.htm. First, you have to define the shape of your face. If you’re still unsure after scrutinizing the six basic face shapes, there appears to be some measuring with a ruler involved.
I thought I might have an oval-shaped face, so I clicked on that one to speed up the process. Here’s what I learned: “(The oval face) is considered the ideal face shape. The brows play no role in making the face appear ‘more oval’--it already is oval. The ‘perfect’ brow shape is generally considered to be the soft angled shape. This is in fact our most popular stencil shape, and works beautifully with an oval face shape.”
Now I was really curious. I had no idea stenciling was part of the deal. There were “Grace Kelly stencils” and “Jennifer Aniston” ones. They came with code numbers and bands that went around the head to hold the plastic stencils in place. The stencils were “non-adhesive” and “easily cleaned.” This was all getting very complicated. I decided to be thankful I got to have dainty eyebrows, if only for a short while, and I let it go at that. In my next life, though, it’s Natalie Portman brows all the way.
I’d hoped to be able to start from scratch, as it were. Maybe I would pencil in some sexy Marilyn Monroe brows. Then I’d thought about painting them in Joan Crawford-style, nice and sultry. Joan’s are still a bit heavy for my taste. So I googled “actress eyebrows” for more ideas. That yielded some good ones.
Natalie Portman is a standout in the brows department. I think it helps if you look pouty and reveal lots of shoulder and cleavage. Keira Knightley looks pretty good. But there’s lots of hair covering her face, so it’s hard to get a real peek at what her brows are all about. Scarlett Johansson has eyebrows that are perfectly shaped. Scarlett is very blonde, however. I don’t think those would fit my coloring.
Back at the drawing board, I googled “eyebrows” and came up with a website called “Find the
Perfect Eyebrow Shape for your Faceshape” at http://www.eyebrowz.com/faceshape.htm. First, you have to define the shape of your face. If you’re still unsure after scrutinizing the six basic face shapes, there appears to be some measuring with a ruler involved.
I thought I might have an oval-shaped face, so I clicked on that one to speed up the process. Here’s what I learned: “(The oval face) is considered the ideal face shape. The brows play no role in making the face appear ‘more oval’--it already is oval. The ‘perfect’ brow shape is generally considered to be the soft angled shape. This is in fact our most popular stencil shape, and works beautifully with an oval face shape.”
Now I was really curious. I had no idea stenciling was part of the deal. There were “Grace Kelly stencils” and “Jennifer Aniston” ones. They came with code numbers and bands that went around the head to hold the plastic stencils in place. The stencils were “non-adhesive” and “easily cleaned.” This was all getting very complicated. I decided to be thankful I got to have dainty eyebrows, if only for a short while, and I let it go at that. In my next life, though, it’s Natalie Portman brows all the way.
Friday, February 26, 2010
During my initial consultation with the chief radiation oncologist for my HMO, he mentioned that radiation for breast cancer is now considered “the standard of care” and is an “area where there really isn’t much controversy.”
I asked him for his thoughts on a New York Times article, which I commented on in a blog on January 25, 2010. The article was titled “A Lifesaving Tool Turned Deadly--Radiation Offers Powerful New Cures, and Ways to do Harm.” The Times had reviewed state records in New York from January 2001 to January 2009 and found there were 621 radiation mistakes. Errors included: wrong dose given, wrong patient treated, the beams missed all or part of the intended target. Two horrible deaths that resulted during those years were described in the article. The story reported that New York state has warned medical physicists that an over-reliance on computer programs might be leading to the mistakes.
My radiation oncologist was familiar with the article and called the mistakes “horrifying.” He said, “There’s no way to justify what happened to those poor people in the article. At the same time, to have a mistake like that is exceedingly rare. In my fifteen-year career, I’ve never seen or heard of such a thing happening in the centers I’ve worked with.”
My HMO actually has a rebuttal to the Times article, a copy of which was given me. The rebuttal is a letter penned to the Times by Dr. Tim R. Williams, chairman of the American Society for Radiation Oncology (ASTRO). In fairness, I’m reprinting most of Dr. Williams’ letter here:
“No medical error is acceptable, and the two instances reported in your article on January 24, 2010 . . . are devastating. We regret the suffering the patients and families were forced to endure.
“However, the numbers reported are exceptionally misleading. The story cites 621 radiation mistakes. During that time, we estimate half a million New Yorkers received 13.6 million daily radiation therapy treatments, meaning radiation errors occurred only .0046 percent of the time. We believe your readers should see this context.
“Even one error is too many and ASTRO continuously works to strengthen the radiation oncology safety culture. . .
“All treatments pose risks and patients should discuss them with their doctors. Radiation therapy is a tool no different than a knife in the hands of a surgeon. It should be used only by those with appropriate training and board certification.”
I asked him for his thoughts on a New York Times article, which I commented on in a blog on January 25, 2010. The article was titled “A Lifesaving Tool Turned Deadly--Radiation Offers Powerful New Cures, and Ways to do Harm.” The Times had reviewed state records in New York from January 2001 to January 2009 and found there were 621 radiation mistakes. Errors included: wrong dose given, wrong patient treated, the beams missed all or part of the intended target. Two horrible deaths that resulted during those years were described in the article. The story reported that New York state has warned medical physicists that an over-reliance on computer programs might be leading to the mistakes.
My radiation oncologist was familiar with the article and called the mistakes “horrifying.” He said, “There’s no way to justify what happened to those poor people in the article. At the same time, to have a mistake like that is exceedingly rare. In my fifteen-year career, I’ve never seen or heard of such a thing happening in the centers I’ve worked with.”
My HMO actually has a rebuttal to the Times article, a copy of which was given me. The rebuttal is a letter penned to the Times by Dr. Tim R. Williams, chairman of the American Society for Radiation Oncology (ASTRO). In fairness, I’m reprinting most of Dr. Williams’ letter here:
“No medical error is acceptable, and the two instances reported in your article on January 24, 2010 . . . are devastating. We regret the suffering the patients and families were forced to endure.
“However, the numbers reported are exceptionally misleading. The story cites 621 radiation mistakes. During that time, we estimate half a million New Yorkers received 13.6 million daily radiation therapy treatments, meaning radiation errors occurred only .0046 percent of the time. We believe your readers should see this context.
“Even one error is too many and ASTRO continuously works to strengthen the radiation oncology safety culture. . .
“All treatments pose risks and patients should discuss them with their doctors. Radiation therapy is a tool no different than a knife in the hands of a surgeon. It should be used only by those with appropriate training and board certification.”
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Things are proceeding apace, as they say. I’ve had two meetings in preparation for radiation treatments, which begin in early March and last four weeks. The final preparatory session next week, at the center thirty minutes from my Northern California home, will be a dry run.
The first of my meetings, a consultation with the chief radiation oncologist at the center, was designed to allay concerns about the procedure. The oncologist addressed each of the fears I have. He deemed all of them either “rare” occurrences “extremely rare” or said there is a “one to five percent” chance of having them happen.
And yet, I had to sign a form showing I understood the “possible side effects of radiation therapy treatment to the area of the breast.” Under common immediate reactions the form lists: skin reddening and darkening in the treated area, breast swelling, tiredness, occasional aches and pains in the breast, temporary underarm hair loss. Common long term reactions include: discomfort and sensitivity in the breast, increased firmness, swelling that can last a number of years, shrinkage of the breast, change in skin color.
In the “uncommon” category, short term reactions are skin blistering, peeling, ulceration. The blood cell count can also decrease. In the “uncommon” long term reaction category are: a significant increase in the firmness of the treated breast and permanent mild swelling.
Rare long term reactions include significant shrinkage of the treated breast, lung scarring, and cough. Extremely rare long term effects are damage to the heart leading to heart failure, tumors caused by radiation, and rib fractures in the treated area.
At the end of this first meeting, I was handed a booklet entitled “Advance Health Care Directive Kit.” This kit is full of forms that tell the HMO what the patient wants done, in the event the patient can no longer speak for herself. I see. Thank you very much. I am now in an “extremely rare” frame of mind and believe I will end today’s post here.
The first of my meetings, a consultation with the chief radiation oncologist at the center, was designed to allay concerns about the procedure. The oncologist addressed each of the fears I have. He deemed all of them either “rare” occurrences “extremely rare” or said there is a “one to five percent” chance of having them happen.
And yet, I had to sign a form showing I understood the “possible side effects of radiation therapy treatment to the area of the breast.” Under common immediate reactions the form lists: skin reddening and darkening in the treated area, breast swelling, tiredness, occasional aches and pains in the breast, temporary underarm hair loss. Common long term reactions include: discomfort and sensitivity in the breast, increased firmness, swelling that can last a number of years, shrinkage of the breast, change in skin color.
In the “uncommon” category, short term reactions are skin blistering, peeling, ulceration. The blood cell count can also decrease. In the “uncommon” long term reaction category are: a significant increase in the firmness of the treated breast and permanent mild swelling.
Rare long term reactions include significant shrinkage of the treated breast, lung scarring, and cough. Extremely rare long term effects are damage to the heart leading to heart failure, tumors caused by radiation, and rib fractures in the treated area.
At the end of this first meeting, I was handed a booklet entitled “Advance Health Care Directive Kit.” This kit is full of forms that tell the HMO what the patient wants done, in the event the patient can no longer speak for herself. I see. Thank you very much. I am now in an “extremely rare” frame of mind and believe I will end today’s post here.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Several friends have emailed me, since learning of my bout with breast cancer, to tell me they find me strong and inspiring. I finally wrote to one that I just didn’t see that.
“How can that be?” I asked. “I’ve cried buckets of tears, railed against my fate, been alternately petulant and angry. How is that inspirational?”
My friend wrote back that I’m fighting, which is huge. And I’m sharing my experience, which is inspiring. Hmmm. I guess I have to ponder that one for a while.
I keep thinking of an exchange in German that goes something like this: One party will ask, “Wie geht’s (how goes it)?” The second party, if feeling particularly beleaguered, will say, “Es muß gehen (it has to go).” That pretty much sums it up for me. One step at a time. One day at a time. Things have to move forward.
I can’t imagine folding my tent and deciding not to fight for my life, especially when so many doctors, nurses, oncologists, and physicists are working so hard to save it. Not when so many loved ones are pulling for me and encouraging me.
My husband’s physician told me, back in October 2009 when I was first diagnosed, that I was in a war. I understood it then. But I really see it now. It takes commitment, stamina, and a strong will to withstand all the body must go through. I guess that’s why God visits breast cancer on women. We embody all of those things and so much more!
Be sure to give the strong women in your life a special hug today.
“How can that be?” I asked. “I’ve cried buckets of tears, railed against my fate, been alternately petulant and angry. How is that inspirational?”
My friend wrote back that I’m fighting, which is huge. And I’m sharing my experience, which is inspiring. Hmmm. I guess I have to ponder that one for a while.
I keep thinking of an exchange in German that goes something like this: One party will ask, “Wie geht’s (how goes it)?” The second party, if feeling particularly beleaguered, will say, “Es muß gehen (it has to go).” That pretty much sums it up for me. One step at a time. One day at a time. Things have to move forward.
I can’t imagine folding my tent and deciding not to fight for my life, especially when so many doctors, nurses, oncologists, and physicists are working so hard to save it. Not when so many loved ones are pulling for me and encouraging me.
My husband’s physician told me, back in October 2009 when I was first diagnosed, that I was in a war. I understood it then. But I really see it now. It takes commitment, stamina, and a strong will to withstand all the body must go through. I guess that’s why God visits breast cancer on women. We embody all of those things and so much more!
Be sure to give the strong women in your life a special hug today.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Thoughts About Love
You know you are loved when:
. . . You look like a balding chimpanzee and your husband kisses you without flinching.
. . . Your mother insists on accompanying you to a full day’s worth of pre-surgery hospital appointments when she is ill herself.
. . . Your father, at age 82, drives through a pounding rainstorm to take you to chemotherapy.
. . . Your sister interrupts her hectic schedule to visit you after surgery, and takes the time to write a guest piece for your blog.
When your brother, with whom you’ve never exchanged endearments, hears of your cancer diagnosis and calls to tell you he loves you, that’s more than love. That’s a blessing.
When friends hear of your breast cancer and send flowers, gifts, and cards, that’s love.
When friends knit you caps, send books, invite you to dinner, bring soup, have you mentioned in their church prayers, arrange to have your house cleaned, and take you to see a play for a nice diversion, that’s love.
When friends give of their time to visit, give practical advice, or call to cheer you up, that’s love.
I am surrounded by love. And I am most grateful. I send hugs and love to all of you, too.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Carly Fiorina, former Hewlett-Packard CEO and senate candidate, did some fundraising in my hometown last Friday. Having gone through the surgery and treatments for breast cancer, her hair is still very short.
“This is the look of a cancer survivor,” our local newspaper quotes her as saying. “The blessing of my tough passage with cancer is my faith is stronger, my family is stronger, and honestly speaking after chemotherapy and looking at this in the mirror every day Barbara Boxer doesn’t scare me one bit.”
I understand Fiorina completely. I have no doubt she’s seen the bowels of hell. Nothing can scare her now. As I’m still going through treatments, I haven’t yet reached the state of mind Fiorina is in.
My mother often says that I like to scare myself. I don’t need to do that. My doctors and the research books I consult are doing a bang-up job. My surgeon has already told me that radiation will shrink the affected breast by one bra size. The Stanford oncologist I met with said it will be smaller and firmer. I’m already picturing one side looking like a headlight (complete with the tattoos they’ll give it) and the other being normal. In my mind’s eye, I look ridiculous.
Though not insignificant, cosmetics is the least of my worries. According to Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide by doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman, there is much to be concerned about when it comes to radiation:
--Radiation can cause a hairline fracture of a rib.
--Radiation can sometimes injure the lungs.
--If a tumor near the center of the breast was removed, there is a greater likelihood of long-term edema (excess fluid that causes swelling) from damaged lymphatics.
--The breast can be sensitive to the touch for many years. “Episodes of discomfort, aching, and even sharp pain are not unusual.”
--Superficial layers of skin will die, and this will leave a slight discoloration. The skin may darken and thicken slightly.
--“Under certain conditions there have been radiation-induced cancers. People nineteen and younger are at highest risk for radiation-induced cancer. After thirty-five, the risk is negligible.”
--An “extremely rare cancer, hemangiosarcoma, can occur at the site of the radiation treatment to the breast after a lumpectomy. Its presence is suspected when a bruise-like discoloration appears on the breast.”
--When the left breast is radiated, there is concern about its effects on the heart. Apparently, long-term studies show no additional risk of heart attacks with modern radiation therapy.
--Women who intend to nurse their newborns will not be able to with a breast that has received radiation.
I suppose anything billing itself as a “complete guide” has to cover every eventuality. Still, between the book and my doctors, things are sounding plenty scary. My list of questions, as I prepare for my first appointment with the radiation oncologist tomorrow, is long.
“This is the look of a cancer survivor,” our local newspaper quotes her as saying. “The blessing of my tough passage with cancer is my faith is stronger, my family is stronger, and honestly speaking after chemotherapy and looking at this in the mirror every day Barbara Boxer doesn’t scare me one bit.”
I understand Fiorina completely. I have no doubt she’s seen the bowels of hell. Nothing can scare her now. As I’m still going through treatments, I haven’t yet reached the state of mind Fiorina is in.
My mother often says that I like to scare myself. I don’t need to do that. My doctors and the research books I consult are doing a bang-up job. My surgeon has already told me that radiation will shrink the affected breast by one bra size. The Stanford oncologist I met with said it will be smaller and firmer. I’m already picturing one side looking like a headlight (complete with the tattoos they’ll give it) and the other being normal. In my mind’s eye, I look ridiculous.
Though not insignificant, cosmetics is the least of my worries. According to Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide by doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman, there is much to be concerned about when it comes to radiation:
--Radiation can cause a hairline fracture of a rib.
--Radiation can sometimes injure the lungs.
--If a tumor near the center of the breast was removed, there is a greater likelihood of long-term edema (excess fluid that causes swelling) from damaged lymphatics.
--The breast can be sensitive to the touch for many years. “Episodes of discomfort, aching, and even sharp pain are not unusual.”
--Superficial layers of skin will die, and this will leave a slight discoloration. The skin may darken and thicken slightly.
--“Under certain conditions there have been radiation-induced cancers. People nineteen and younger are at highest risk for radiation-induced cancer. After thirty-five, the risk is negligible.”
--An “extremely rare cancer, hemangiosarcoma, can occur at the site of the radiation treatment to the breast after a lumpectomy. Its presence is suspected when a bruise-like discoloration appears on the breast.”
--When the left breast is radiated, there is concern about its effects on the heart. Apparently, long-term studies show no additional risk of heart attacks with modern radiation therapy.
--Women who intend to nurse their newborns will not be able to with a breast that has received radiation.
I suppose anything billing itself as a “complete guide” has to cover every eventuality. Still, between the book and my doctors, things are sounding plenty scary. My list of questions, as I prepare for my first appointment with the radiation oncologist tomorrow, is long.
Monday, February 15, 2010
My sweetheart gave me roses for Valentine’s Day. It’s soppy. It’s traditional. It’s the first time he’s done that in the nearly seventeen years we’ve been married.
My husband, you see, is a foodie. Anything big, chocolate, red and edible is his first choice for a gift. This year I again wanted roses. I finally got them. The wonderful flower, with its juicy red color and terrific scent, is called a Freedom Rose.
In the evening we went to an intimate restaurant in Tiburon, Calif. From our table in the window I could see the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge punching through the haze that hugged the shoreline. There were few sailboats out on the bay. The wind was absolutely still.
On an outcropping of rock below us, a man was showing a boy how to fish. Their pole dipped. The boy reeled in a crab. They let it go, and left soon afterward. Later in the evening, a man arrived with his two children and a crab basket. They lined the basket with bait and heaved it over the side of the cliff. I’m sure they had good luck.
The evening was memorable for many reasons. Not the least of them was the realization that we hadn’t eaten in a restaurant since September 2009. What with all the tumult after my breast cancer diagnosis, the surgeries and recoveries, the chemotherapy and--along with that--the admonition to stay away from crowds, we hadn’t eaten out in four-and-a-half months. That’s a long time, especially for a pair of foodies.
My husband, you see, is a foodie. Anything big, chocolate, red and edible is his first choice for a gift. This year I again wanted roses. I finally got them. The wonderful flower, with its juicy red color and terrific scent, is called a Freedom Rose.
In the evening we went to an intimate restaurant in Tiburon, Calif. From our table in the window I could see the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge punching through the haze that hugged the shoreline. There were few sailboats out on the bay. The wind was absolutely still.
On an outcropping of rock below us, a man was showing a boy how to fish. Their pole dipped. The boy reeled in a crab. They let it go, and left soon afterward. Later in the evening, a man arrived with his two children and a crab basket. They lined the basket with bait and heaved it over the side of the cliff. I’m sure they had good luck.
The evening was memorable for many reasons. Not the least of them was the realization that we hadn’t eaten in a restaurant since September 2009. What with all the tumult after my breast cancer diagnosis, the surgeries and recoveries, the chemotherapy and--along with that--the admonition to stay away from crowds, we hadn’t eaten out in four-and-a-half months. That’s a long time, especially for a pair of foodies.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
A good friend from my writers group, Nancy R., is my guest blogger today. She sent me the verse below with this accompanying note: “When you asked for stand-in bloggers, I thought of sharing the following. I think it’s a lovely example of how meaningful relationships are. And relationships are SO important when one is struggling with cancer.”
This is taken from Honey From The Rock; Ten gates of Jewish Mysticism by Lawrence Kushner.
Each lifetime is the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
For some there are more pieces.
For others the puzzle is more difficult to assemble.
Some seem to be born with a nearly completed puzzle.
And so it goes.
Souls going this way and that
Trying to assemble myriad parts.
But know this. No one has within themselves
All the pieces to their puzzle.
Life before the days when they used to seal jigsaw
Puzzles in cellophane. Insuring that
All the pieces were there.
Everyone carries with them at least one and probably
Many pieces to someone else's puzzle.
Sometimes they know it.
Sometimes they don't.
And when you present your piece,
Which is worthless to you,
To another, whether you know it or not,
Whether they know it or not,
You are a messenger from the Most High.
This is taken from Honey From The Rock; Ten gates of Jewish Mysticism by Lawrence Kushner.
Each lifetime is the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
For some there are more pieces.
For others the puzzle is more difficult to assemble.
Some seem to be born with a nearly completed puzzle.
And so it goes.
Souls going this way and that
Trying to assemble myriad parts.
But know this. No one has within themselves
All the pieces to their puzzle.
Life before the days when they used to seal jigsaw
Puzzles in cellophane. Insuring that
All the pieces were there.
Everyone carries with them at least one and probably
Many pieces to someone else's puzzle.
Sometimes they know it.
Sometimes they don't.
And when you present your piece,
Which is worthless to you,
To another, whether you know it or not,
Whether they know it or not,
You are a messenger from the Most High.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The sixty-fifth anniversary of the end of World War II is fast approaching. By mid year a slew of books about the war will flood the market.
My novel, The Still Voice, was targeted for this year. It was not to be. That’s all right. The book will still be here for the seventieth anniversary and for the seventy-fifth. And I will still be here, too.
When people learn that my main character Sophia joins up with the Edelweiss Pirates youth resistance group, they often think the group is fictitious. It amazes me that so many are unfamiliar with the groups within Germany that fought so valiantly against Nazi rule.
The Edelweiss Pirates was a loosely-knit group of thousands of working class teenagers that existed in Köln and nearby cities during WWII. An alternative movement to the Hitler Youth, the Pirates risked arrest, torture, and their lives to carry out acts of sabotage against the Nazi regime. The Pirates provided shelter to German army deserters and escaped prisoners from concentration camps. They raided military depots and deliberately sabotaged war production. In 1944 they killed the head of the Köln Gestapo. Orders to root them out came from Heinrich Himmler himself.*
Both boys and girls were members of the Köln resistance.**
My novel, The Still Voice, was targeted for this year. It was not to be. That’s all right. The book will still be here for the seventieth anniversary and for the seventy-fifth. And I will still be here, too.
When people learn that my main character Sophia joins up with the Edelweiss Pirates youth resistance group, they often think the group is fictitious. It amazes me that so many are unfamiliar with the groups within Germany that fought so valiantly against Nazi rule.
The Edelweiss Pirates was a loosely-knit group of thousands of working class teenagers that existed in Köln and nearby cities during WWII. An alternative movement to the Hitler Youth, the Pirates risked arrest, torture, and their lives to carry out acts of sabotage against the Nazi regime. The Pirates provided shelter to German army deserters and escaped prisoners from concentration camps. They raided military depots and deliberately sabotaged war production. In 1944 they killed the head of the Köln Gestapo. Orders to root them out came from Heinrich Himmler himself.*
Both boys and girls were members of the Köln resistance.**In 1988 the Edelweiss Pirates were recognized as “Righteous Among the Nations” by Jerusalem’s Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial. The criminal status given the group by the Gestapo was dropped in 2005, and they were officially recognized as “resistance fighters” and heroes.
There were other groups, too. Among them The White Rose is known for its bravery. Several members of this group were beheaded for authoring, printing, and disseminating leaflets critical of Hitler and National Socialism. Their last leaflet reads, in part: Freedom and honor! For ten long years Hitler and his comrades have crushed, squeezed, and twisted these two glorious German words . . . The name of Germany is dishonored for all time if German youth does not finally rise, avenge and atone, smash its tormentors, and erect a new Europe of the spirit.***
The Swing Kids were, initially, an apolitical group of middle class members interested primarily in British and American jazz music. Their counter-culture mode of dress, grooming, and make-up eventually brought them into conflict with the Gestapo. And swing clubs were open to Jewish friends.
The Swing Kids had to listen to overseas radio stations to hear their music. This would have brought them into contact with allied propaganda. It’s thought that some were instrumental in spreading this. “Swing clubs were tolerated until 1940, when a gathering in Hamburg drew alarm when it was attended by 500 youths. After this, jazz appreciation went largely underground. On January 2, 1942, Heinrich Himmler wrote to Reinhard Heydrich calling on him to clamp down on the ringleaders of the Swing movement, recommending a few years in a concentration camp with beatings and forced labor.”****
The Helmuth Hubener Group, led by Helmuth Hubener, distributed illegal transcriptions of BBC broadcasts and antigovernment leaflets. “The Gestapo eventually arrested them. Hubener was executed by guillotine on October 27, 1942, while the other members received long prison sentences.”****
Die Meuten (packs) were found in working class strongholds such as Leipzig. The Leipzig Meuten shared many characteristics with the Edelweiss Pirates, “except they tended to come from more organized socialist or communist traditions. Because of this background, they received more official attention. Between 1937 and 1939 the Gestapo estimated their numbers in Leipzig at 1500. There were complaints that many areas were ‘no-go’ areas for Nazis, due to the abuse and violence meted out by the Meuten.”****
There were many German resistance groups that fought valiantly against the Nazis in WWII. Many paid a dear price for their freedom fighting. I wish the world could know more about them.
*Edelweiss Pirates: dw-world.de/dw/article/0,1441,1391096,00.html, The International Raoul Wallenberg Foundation, metafilter.com.
**Photo: http://www.organizedrage.com/2009/08/edelweiss-pirates-fascinating-account.html
***The White Rose: http://fcit.usf.edu/HOLOCAUST/default.htm
****Swing Kids, Helmuth Hubener Group, Leipzig Meuten http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A3059255
Monday, February 8, 2010
This afternoon I received a “Certificate of Achievement.” It was given to me by my HMO for “having successfully completed ‘A Course of Chemotherapy.’” High fives all around from the roomful of nurses, patients, and my father. With my fourth and final treatment I feel the lifting of an ominous cloud. The worst is over. The radiation, which begins in March and lasts several weeks, is reputed to be much more tolerable.
As I have fought this every step of the way, I found a cartoon in The New Yorker quite appropriate and shared it with my oncologist today. The cartoon shows a doctor reviewing a report with his patient. The caption reads, “You tested positive for being negative.” The oncologist thought it very funny and asked whether he could keep the clipping. I gave it to him.
Whoever first said, “Everything in life is negotiable,” had it exactly right. After my first chemotherapy infusion in early December 2009, I called my oncologist and asked about the severe bone pain I was having. He told me the neupogen shot (which raises the white blood cell count) was probably to blame. So, he cancelled the shot.
After my second infusion the end of December, the exhaustion and migraine persisted. I remembered the oncologist mentioning the possibility of reducing the intensity of the chemo treatments. He told me there was a small amount of wiggle room, but he did reduce it. What a difference that made. I had many more “good days” following the third treatment in mid January.
Still in all, I realize how lucky I am. I have the support of family and friends. One of the country’s foremost oncologists, Dr. Frank Stockdale, co-founder of Stanford University’s breast cancer program, believes I will be fully cured. There are no children at home to raise, no unreasonable employers making demands. My husband’s employer, in fact, sent me a get-well cookie bouquet when all this began in October last year.
I keep thinking of a woman I met at a seminar last fall. The woman had breast cancer. The woman’s daughter, inspired to get a mammogram because of what had happened to her mother, found she had breast cancer as well. The daughter’s sixteen-year-old son had become sullen and rebellious. His attitude was, “Why are you doing this to me, to our family?” How much more difficult going through this experience is for these women.
During one of my infusions, I sat in a room with a woman who had ovarian cancer. She’d received an experimental drug during an earlier treatment. After four months the disease had returned. I asked about her prognosis. “Not good,” she said and grimaced.
Still in all, I realize how lucky I am.
As I have fought this every step of the way, I found a cartoon in The New Yorker quite appropriate and shared it with my oncologist today. The cartoon shows a doctor reviewing a report with his patient. The caption reads, “You tested positive for being negative.” The oncologist thought it very funny and asked whether he could keep the clipping. I gave it to him.
Whoever first said, “Everything in life is negotiable,” had it exactly right. After my first chemotherapy infusion in early December 2009, I called my oncologist and asked about the severe bone pain I was having. He told me the neupogen shot (which raises the white blood cell count) was probably to blame. So, he cancelled the shot.
After my second infusion the end of December, the exhaustion and migraine persisted. I remembered the oncologist mentioning the possibility of reducing the intensity of the chemo treatments. He told me there was a small amount of wiggle room, but he did reduce it. What a difference that made. I had many more “good days” following the third treatment in mid January.
Still in all, I realize how lucky I am. I have the support of family and friends. One of the country’s foremost oncologists, Dr. Frank Stockdale, co-founder of Stanford University’s breast cancer program, believes I will be fully cured. There are no children at home to raise, no unreasonable employers making demands. My husband’s employer, in fact, sent me a get-well cookie bouquet when all this began in October last year.
I keep thinking of a woman I met at a seminar last fall. The woman had breast cancer. The woman’s daughter, inspired to get a mammogram because of what had happened to her mother, found she had breast cancer as well. The daughter’s sixteen-year-old son had become sullen and rebellious. His attitude was, “Why are you doing this to me, to our family?” How much more difficult going through this experience is for these women.
During one of my infusions, I sat in a room with a woman who had ovarian cancer. She’d received an experimental drug during an earlier treatment. After four months the disease had returned. I asked about her prognosis. “Not good,” she said and grimaced.
Still in all, I realize how lucky I am.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
When friends learned of my diagnosis some months ago, books specifically about breast cancer, and cancer in general, began appearing on my doorstep.
My first thought was, “I’m living this, why would I want to read about it?” I quickly found how useful the books were as I needed answers to so many questions: How to read a pathology report? What treatment options were best for me? How to manage their side effects?
One book mailed to me by a friend is called Definitive Guide to Cancer. It has an interesting little sidebar called “Choosing Safe Skin Care Products and Cosmetics.” The section intrigues me because I learned, at a forum sponsored by the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences (NIEHS) and the Bay Area Breast Cancer and the Environment Research Center (BCERC) last November, that endocrine disruptors, which influence estrogen production, can be found in plastics and in cosmetics. Too much estrogen in the body can lead to breast cancer.
“Choosing Safe Skin Care Products and Cosmetics,” authored by Myra Eby and Susan Mesko, notes that, “Every day, researchers are learning more about the health risks of certain ingredients found in many skin care products and cosmetics. These ingredients have been found to be the culprit in health problems ranging from allergic reaction to birth defects to cancer.” The article goes on to report that up to sixty percent of a skin care or cosmetic product can be absorbed through the skin and into the bloodstream.*
According to the article, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has identified 5,000 chemicals in cosmetics alone. Several major categories of toxic ingredients are singled out by Eby and Mesko. The first, parabens, such as ethyl-, butyl-, propyl-, and methylparaben, are used as preservatives. These can be dangerous because they mimic estrogen. According to the authors, “Recent evidence indicates that topical parabens have been detected in human breast tumors.” Allergic reaction to parabens is also very common.
Another category includes preservatives such as DMDM hydantoin, imidazolidinyl urea, and quaternium-15, which can release trace amounts of formaldehyde into the skin “causing a toxic effect at the cellular level.”
Fragrances, hair sprays, and nail polish often contain another category of chemical called phthalates. These chemicals have been linked, according to the article, to liver toxicity and genital malformation and are suspected contributors to cancer.
Synthetic colors are bad as well, as they can be carcinogenic. The authors suggest avoiding anything with “FD&C” or “D&C” followed by a number as an ingredient.
I inspected eight makeup and skin care products I own. Six have turned out to be dirty. The blush I use contains at least two paraben chemicals and quaternium-15. I’d been wondering why I coughed so much when I wear it. The Lubriderm lotion I was so happy to discover a few weeks ago contains three parabens and DMDM hydantoin. Even the Aloe Vera gel in my medicine cabinet has DMDM hydantoin. Some of these products, such as the blush, will have to go. But where does one find aloe without the preservative?
*Authors Eby and Mesko are president and production vice president, respectively, of MyChelle Dermaceuticals. The company provides skin care products they consider safe for consumers and the environment.
My first thought was, “I’m living this, why would I want to read about it?” I quickly found how useful the books were as I needed answers to so many questions: How to read a pathology report? What treatment options were best for me? How to manage their side effects?
One book mailed to me by a friend is called Definitive Guide to Cancer. It has an interesting little sidebar called “Choosing Safe Skin Care Products and Cosmetics.” The section intrigues me because I learned, at a forum sponsored by the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences (NIEHS) and the Bay Area Breast Cancer and the Environment Research Center (BCERC) last November, that endocrine disruptors, which influence estrogen production, can be found in plastics and in cosmetics. Too much estrogen in the body can lead to breast cancer.
“Choosing Safe Skin Care Products and Cosmetics,” authored by Myra Eby and Susan Mesko, notes that, “Every day, researchers are learning more about the health risks of certain ingredients found in many skin care products and cosmetics. These ingredients have been found to be the culprit in health problems ranging from allergic reaction to birth defects to cancer.” The article goes on to report that up to sixty percent of a skin care or cosmetic product can be absorbed through the skin and into the bloodstream.*
According to the article, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has identified 5,000 chemicals in cosmetics alone. Several major categories of toxic ingredients are singled out by Eby and Mesko. The first, parabens, such as ethyl-, butyl-, propyl-, and methylparaben, are used as preservatives. These can be dangerous because they mimic estrogen. According to the authors, “Recent evidence indicates that topical parabens have been detected in human breast tumors.” Allergic reaction to parabens is also very common.
Another category includes preservatives such as DMDM hydantoin, imidazolidinyl urea, and quaternium-15, which can release trace amounts of formaldehyde into the skin “causing a toxic effect at the cellular level.”
Fragrances, hair sprays, and nail polish often contain another category of chemical called phthalates. These chemicals have been linked, according to the article, to liver toxicity and genital malformation and are suspected contributors to cancer.
Synthetic colors are bad as well, as they can be carcinogenic. The authors suggest avoiding anything with “FD&C” or “D&C” followed by a number as an ingredient.
I inspected eight makeup and skin care products I own. Six have turned out to be dirty. The blush I use contains at least two paraben chemicals and quaternium-15. I’d been wondering why I coughed so much when I wear it. The Lubriderm lotion I was so happy to discover a few weeks ago contains three parabens and DMDM hydantoin. Even the Aloe Vera gel in my medicine cabinet has DMDM hydantoin. Some of these products, such as the blush, will have to go. But where does one find aloe without the preservative?
*Authors Eby and Mesko are president and production vice president, respectively, of MyChelle Dermaceuticals. The company provides skin care products they consider safe for consumers and the environment.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
In the book One Bite at a Time--Nourishing Recipes for Cancer Survivors and Their Friends, author Rebecca Katz has a section called “Pantry Rehabilitation.” The section has a list of healthy staples everyone’s pantry should have and the author’s reasons for including what she does.
I think Katz would be appalled at the state of my cupboards. In with the cereals and the nuts are boxes of pasta, tins of soup starter, and scads of tea and coffee. There are cans of tuna, coffee filters (which I haven’t needed in years), and commemorative bottles of wine from auto racing events. I’m a good candidate for the author’s rehab, so let’s see where she begins.
Not surprisingly, Katz starts with, “Get out the garbage bags. Put the dog in another room . . . It’s time to get down to some serious business.” The idea is to pitch out what you don’t need and to start from scratch. Some of her scratch includes things I would never consume. Two of these items are agar agar (tasteless dried seaweed that replaces gelatin in recipes) and tofu. But some others sound pretty good. Let’s check out a few:
--Brown rice vinegar. Katz says it’s light and clean and adds a mild acidity to foods. I’ve used this vinegar and do really enjoy its taste.
--Dulse flakes. This is a salty, red seaweed that can be sprinkled on salads. It’s high in iron, iodine, and manganese and sounds worth a try for these reasons.
--Olive oil, safflower oil, sesame oil, sunflower oil. These are considered a healthy source of fat.
--Udon noodles. These are Japanese noodles made from wheat flour.
--Stock. Vegetable or chicken stock, which can be purchased in organic form.
--Worcestershire sauce. This one is surprising. The seasoning now comes in organic and vegetarian varieties, and is on Katz’s list.
Tips for food storage and buying the proper kitchen equipment are in this section. There is also a chart showing what fruits and vegetables should be avoided if they’re not organically grown because they contain high levels of pesticide. According to the Environmental Working Group, these include: apples, bell peppers, celery, cherries, grapes (imported), peaches, pears, nectarines, potatoes, raspberries, spinach, and strawberries. This list includes all of my favorite fruits. Drat, wouldn’t you just know that?
I think Katz would be appalled at the state of my cupboards. In with the cereals and the nuts are boxes of pasta, tins of soup starter, and scads of tea and coffee. There are cans of tuna, coffee filters (which I haven’t needed in years), and commemorative bottles of wine from auto racing events. I’m a good candidate for the author’s rehab, so let’s see where she begins.
Not surprisingly, Katz starts with, “Get out the garbage bags. Put the dog in another room . . . It’s time to get down to some serious business.” The idea is to pitch out what you don’t need and to start from scratch. Some of her scratch includes things I would never consume. Two of these items are agar agar (tasteless dried seaweed that replaces gelatin in recipes) and tofu. But some others sound pretty good. Let’s check out a few:
--Brown rice vinegar. Katz says it’s light and clean and adds a mild acidity to foods. I’ve used this vinegar and do really enjoy its taste.
--Dulse flakes. This is a salty, red seaweed that can be sprinkled on salads. It’s high in iron, iodine, and manganese and sounds worth a try for these reasons.
--Olive oil, safflower oil, sesame oil, sunflower oil. These are considered a healthy source of fat.
--Udon noodles. These are Japanese noodles made from wheat flour.
--Stock. Vegetable or chicken stock, which can be purchased in organic form.
--Worcestershire sauce. This one is surprising. The seasoning now comes in organic and vegetarian varieties, and is on Katz’s list.
Tips for food storage and buying the proper kitchen equipment are in this section. There is also a chart showing what fruits and vegetables should be avoided if they’re not organically grown because they contain high levels of pesticide. According to the Environmental Working Group, these include: apples, bell peppers, celery, cherries, grapes (imported), peaches, pears, nectarines, potatoes, raspberries, spinach, and strawberries. This list includes all of my favorite fruits. Drat, wouldn’t you just know that?
Monday, February 1, 2010
It’s amazing what surfaces when one goes through five years worth of research material. My office is newly spiffed up and organized, with all the research from my novel, The Still Voice, filed away.
Whatever did I think the June 2004 copy of The Smithsonian would yield for a book that takes place in Germany during World War II? I can only surmise that the article on coffee, a beverage I love, appealed to me.
There was an interesting quote in the Smithsonian article. Paul Katzeff, the CEO of Thanksgiving Coffee, said organic coffee is a “miserable waste of time--people don’t want to think about their health when they drink coffee.”
I wonder whether Katzeff has changed his mind over the last half dozen years. I tried organic coffee for the first time this past weekend. It was a European blend with a fruity aftertaste. Very nice indeed.
In the book One Bite at a Time--Nourishing Recipes for Cancer Survivors and Their Friends, author Rebecca Katz has this to say about organic foods, “The term organic typically describes food grown without chemicals, including fertilizers, insecticides, artificial coloring, and additives. Growers and manufacturers can claim their foods are organic only if they meet the standards of the Federal Organic Foods Production Act and are certified by either state or federal officials.”
About meat and poultry, Katz says, “Organic poultry is not the same as ‘free range’ products. Organic chickens and turkeys have been fed organic feed, and they haven’t been shot up with antibiotics or growth hormones. All ‘free range’ means is that your bird took a stroll someplace without being cooped up. Organic meat is also raised without drugs.”
Having just seen a segment on the raising of chickens from the documentary, Food, Inc., I plan to spend some time searching for organic chickens. I’d been wondering for some time why chicken breasts have gotten so large and so flavorless. Having seen how they are “raised” in enormous barns--packed into pens with filth and feces and no room to move--and pumped full of antibiotics it’s all become very clear.
The Food, Inc. internet site boasts this good link: http://www.eatwellguide.org/i.php?pd=Home. Click on it, enter your zip code, and you have access to pages of establishments offering good, organic food. The listing includes creameries, farmers, butchers, restaurants, and even bakeries. It’s a quick and painless way to start building a list of organic places to shop.
Speaking of shopping, Katz has a great section in her One Bite at a Time book. It’s called “Pantry Rehabilitation” and offers an interesting list of staples that should be in every healthy eater’s pantry. More on that in my next blog.
Whatever did I think the June 2004 copy of The Smithsonian would yield for a book that takes place in Germany during World War II? I can only surmise that the article on coffee, a beverage I love, appealed to me.
There was an interesting quote in the Smithsonian article. Paul Katzeff, the CEO of Thanksgiving Coffee, said organic coffee is a “miserable waste of time--people don’t want to think about their health when they drink coffee.”
I wonder whether Katzeff has changed his mind over the last half dozen years. I tried organic coffee for the first time this past weekend. It was a European blend with a fruity aftertaste. Very nice indeed.
In the book One Bite at a Time--Nourishing Recipes for Cancer Survivors and Their Friends, author Rebecca Katz has this to say about organic foods, “The term organic typically describes food grown without chemicals, including fertilizers, insecticides, artificial coloring, and additives. Growers and manufacturers can claim their foods are organic only if they meet the standards of the Federal Organic Foods Production Act and are certified by either state or federal officials.”
About meat and poultry, Katz says, “Organic poultry is not the same as ‘free range’ products. Organic chickens and turkeys have been fed organic feed, and they haven’t been shot up with antibiotics or growth hormones. All ‘free range’ means is that your bird took a stroll someplace without being cooped up. Organic meat is also raised without drugs.”
Having just seen a segment on the raising of chickens from the documentary, Food, Inc., I plan to spend some time searching for organic chickens. I’d been wondering for some time why chicken breasts have gotten so large and so flavorless. Having seen how they are “raised” in enormous barns--packed into pens with filth and feces and no room to move--and pumped full of antibiotics it’s all become very clear.
The Food, Inc. internet site boasts this good link: http://www.eatwellguide.org/i.php?pd=Home. Click on it, enter your zip code, and you have access to pages of establishments offering good, organic food. The listing includes creameries, farmers, butchers, restaurants, and even bakeries. It’s a quick and painless way to start building a list of organic places to shop.
Speaking of shopping, Katz has a great section in her One Bite at a Time book. It’s called “Pantry Rehabilitation” and offers an interesting list of staples that should be in every healthy eater’s pantry. More on that in my next blog.
Friday, January 29, 2010
My favorite aunt, Maria, who lives in Munich, Germany turned ninety-five on January 26th. The mayor of Munich sent her a wonderful gift box. According to my aunt, once citizens reach a certain vintage that’s something the mayor’s office does.
Aunt Maria was very excited about the box itself, with an image of her town’s gothic city hall on the lid. Even better, the gift was from the Dallmayr Delicatessen, which caters to über-expensive tastes. Champagne, chocolates, and cheeses were among the many goodies packed inside.
I’m happy for my aunt and glad that everything is going well for her. In 2007, when I last visited Germany, I had a chance to talk with her about her experiences during World War II. She told me many interesting tales. A few have made it into my novel, The Still Voice, in one fashion or another.
I remember recording her stories as we sat on the patio of the Angermaier restaurant in Rottach-Egern, Bavaria. The restaurant is her favorite and she celebrated her ninety-fifth there this week. My cousin emailed pictures he took of the day. How different it looks covered in snow.
Aunt Maria, daughter-in-law Heidi, daughter Ingrid in front of Angermaier
Aunt Maria was very excited about the box itself, with an image of her town’s gothic city hall on the lid. Even better, the gift was from the Dallmayr Delicatessen, which caters to über-expensive tastes. Champagne, chocolates, and cheeses were among the many goodies packed inside.
I’m happy for my aunt and glad that everything is going well for her. In 2007, when I last visited Germany, I had a chance to talk with her about her experiences during World War II. She told me many interesting tales. A few have made it into my novel, The Still Voice, in one fashion or another.
I remember recording her stories as we sat on the patio of the Angermaier restaurant in Rottach-Egern, Bavaria. The restaurant is her favorite and she celebrated her ninety-fifth there this week. My cousin emailed pictures he took of the day. How different it looks covered in snow.
Aunt Maria, daughter-in-law Heidi, daughter Ingrid in front of AngermaierWhen aunt Maria was fourteen, she lived with her family in Wiesbaden. Word went out to the schools from the city’s Staatstheater (opera house) that youngsters were needed for the Kinderchor, or children’s choir. My aunt and another girl were chosen by their music teacher for their beautiful voices. Aunt Maria is proud that the opera’s general director sat in on the Kinderchor during rehearsal. He wanted to make sure he approved of all the voices under his direction.
My aunt sang in such productions as Hansel and Gretel, Peterchens Mondfahrt, and Der Evangelimann. Once, she got paid twenty-five marks for a performance and bought her mother a coat. Aunt Maria would’ve loved to have gone on with her career. But voice training lessons were beyond the family’s means at the time. I can still see her baking in her kitchen and singing away. Her father used to call her “theater doll,” because she loved all things theatrical.
Aunt Maria was twenty-nine and living in the country when the Wiesbaden Staatstheater suffered damage in a terrible bombing on February 2, 1945. In the fall of 1947 the opera house finally reopened. City Mayor Hans Redlhammer acknowledged the citizens’ attachment to the building and proclaimed its revival a symbol of the city’s recovery. I know the restoration contributed to aunt Maria’s emotional recovery, too.
My aunt sang in such productions as Hansel and Gretel, Peterchens Mondfahrt, and Der Evangelimann. Once, she got paid twenty-five marks for a performance and bought her mother a coat. Aunt Maria would’ve loved to have gone on with her career. But voice training lessons were beyond the family’s means at the time. I can still see her baking in her kitchen and singing away. Her father used to call her “theater doll,” because she loved all things theatrical.
Aunt Maria was twenty-nine and living in the country when the Wiesbaden Staatstheater suffered damage in a terrible bombing on February 2, 1945. In the fall of 1947 the opera house finally reopened. City Mayor Hans Redlhammer acknowledged the citizens’ attachment to the building and proclaimed its revival a symbol of the city’s recovery. I know the restoration contributed to aunt Maria’s emotional recovery, too.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Just when I’d gotten used to Facebook and Twitter, along comes something completely different. It’s called a “vook” and is exactly what one would expect it to be--a combination of video and book. The product is a multimedia software application produced by a company of the same name. The first offering is a “cookvook” that displays text along with forty-five short videos of cooks preparing their favorite dishes.
Call me a traditionalist, but I cannot see myself surrounded by kindles, vooks, and “iDevices.” I much prefer the regular old book with its tantalizing title, alluring promotional jacket, and printed words coming alive on the page.
They say you can tell a lot about someone by what they read. On my desk right now I’m surrounded by four planning guides for Greece. I have a book lent me by my father called Ludicrous Laws & Mindless Misdemeanors--The Silliest Lawsuits and Unruliest Rulings of All Times. I’ve been meaning to read Tom Clancy’s Debt of Honor, so that’s here. A friend lent me a paperback called The Know-It-All.
The Know-It-All is interesting. It’s non-fiction and is an account of one man’s reading of the entire Encyclopaedia Britannica from a-ak through Zywiec. There is much humor in the account. Somewhere along the line the author and his wife find time to get pregnant. The baby is born after the reading is done. The book is fun and does not need to be read from A to Zed.
Then there’s A Thousand Splendid Suns by the author of Kite Runner, which I loved. I started to read A Thousand Splendid Suns but have set it aside. I read through chapter seven, at the end of which the main character Mariam is presented in marriage to a total stranger. She’s fifteen years old. Her new husband is in his mid forties. Mariam is a harami, the illegitimate progeny of a lowly stone carver’s daughter and a rich man married to three wives. I read to chapter seven when I remembered what the Taliban did to “fallen” women, those who are prostitutes, illegitimate, or have committed a crime. Sure enough, on page 327 Mariam is in the bed of a pickup truck on its way to Kabul’s Ghazi Sport stadium. On page 329 she kneels in her burqa in front of a male member of the Taliban, bows her head one last time, and is shot to death.
I admit to skipping around in the book. It’s something I often do, check the ending to see whether I can deduce how the book will be written to lead up to it. I skim to see how relationships are established, what motives are worked in. When the plot seems fairly linear and predictable, I will put a book away. A Thousand Splendid Suns was that, linear and predictable. But that’s not why I did not finish it. I was becoming emotionally invested in Mariam. I could not bear to read about her hard life, her sad end. I remember what the Taliban has done to Afghan women.
Call me a traditionalist, but I cannot see myself surrounded by kindles, vooks, and “iDevices.” I much prefer the regular old book with its tantalizing title, alluring promotional jacket, and printed words coming alive on the page.
They say you can tell a lot about someone by what they read. On my desk right now I’m surrounded by four planning guides for Greece. I have a book lent me by my father called Ludicrous Laws & Mindless Misdemeanors--The Silliest Lawsuits and Unruliest Rulings of All Times. I’ve been meaning to read Tom Clancy’s Debt of Honor, so that’s here. A friend lent me a paperback called The Know-It-All.
The Know-It-All is interesting. It’s non-fiction and is an account of one man’s reading of the entire Encyclopaedia Britannica from a-ak through Zywiec. There is much humor in the account. Somewhere along the line the author and his wife find time to get pregnant. The baby is born after the reading is done. The book is fun and does not need to be read from A to Zed.
Then there’s A Thousand Splendid Suns by the author of Kite Runner, which I loved. I started to read A Thousand Splendid Suns but have set it aside. I read through chapter seven, at the end of which the main character Mariam is presented in marriage to a total stranger. She’s fifteen years old. Her new husband is in his mid forties. Mariam is a harami, the illegitimate progeny of a lowly stone carver’s daughter and a rich man married to three wives. I read to chapter seven when I remembered what the Taliban did to “fallen” women, those who are prostitutes, illegitimate, or have committed a crime. Sure enough, on page 327 Mariam is in the bed of a pickup truck on its way to Kabul’s Ghazi Sport stadium. On page 329 she kneels in her burqa in front of a male member of the Taliban, bows her head one last time, and is shot to death.
I admit to skipping around in the book. It’s something I often do, check the ending to see whether I can deduce how the book will be written to lead up to it. I skim to see how relationships are established, what motives are worked in. When the plot seems fairly linear and predictable, I will put a book away. A Thousand Splendid Suns was that, linear and predictable. But that’s not why I did not finish it. I was becoming emotionally invested in Mariam. I could not bear to read about her hard life, her sad end. I remember what the Taliban has done to Afghan women.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
“The Oak Tree”
A mighty wind blew night and day.
It stole the oak tree’s leaves away,
Then snapped its boughs
and pulled its bark
until the oak was tired and stark.
But still the oak tree held its ground
while other trees fell all around . . .
The weary wind gave up and spoke,
“How can you still be standing, Oak?”
The oak tree said, “I know that you
can break each branch of mine in two,
carry every leaf away,
shake my limbs, and make me sway.
But I have roots stretched in the earth,
growing stronger since my birth.
You’ll never touch them, for you see,
they are the deepest part of me.
Until today, I wasn’t sure
of just how much I could endure.
But now I’ve found, with thanks to you,
I’m stronger than I ever knew.”
This inspiring message, believe it or not, was on a Hallmark greeting card given to me by my mother. Mom added an inspirational message of her own, and made my day.
A mighty wind blew night and day.
It stole the oak tree’s leaves away,
Then snapped its boughs
and pulled its bark
until the oak was tired and stark.
But still the oak tree held its ground
while other trees fell all around . . .
The weary wind gave up and spoke,
“How can you still be standing, Oak?”
The oak tree said, “I know that you
can break each branch of mine in two,
carry every leaf away,
shake my limbs, and make me sway.
But I have roots stretched in the earth,
growing stronger since my birth.
You’ll never touch them, for you see,
they are the deepest part of me.
Until today, I wasn’t sure
of just how much I could endure.
But now I’ve found, with thanks to you,
I’m stronger than I ever knew.”
This inspiring message, believe it or not, was on a Hallmark greeting card given to me by my mother. Mom added an inspirational message of her own, and made my day.
Monday, January 25, 2010
There’s always something to worry about. Just a few weeks shy of my first radiation treatment, comes this article in the Sunday New York Times: “A Lifesaving Tool Turned Deadly--Radiation Offers Powerful New Cures, and Ways to do Harm.”
The gist of the article is that operators of radiation machinery can rely too heavily on the computer-controlled devices. When the software acts up, improper data is fed in, or warning signals are given out by the system, operators don’t always check for, or catch, the mistakes. A review of state records in New York found there were 621 radiation mistakes from January 2001 to January 2009. The errors included: wrong dose given, wrong patient treated, the beams missed all or part of the intended target.
The personal stories cited in the article included two where egregious errors were committed. One resulted in a man’s head and neck being over-radiated. He died of his horrible injuries after two years of suffering. The second left a breast cancer patient with a burning, gaping hole in her chest. She too died in terrible pain.
Even when everything is done properly, Dr. John J. Feldmeier, a radiation oncologist at the University of Toledo and a leading authority on radiation injuries, estimates that one in twenty patients will suffer injuries, according to the Times piece. Most of these are “normal complications.”
I wonder whether these complications include the organ damage and radiation-induced cancer that can be caused and might not show up for decades.
A diagram of an Intensity Modulated Radiation Therapy (I.M.R.T.) machine accompanies the Times story. The image is daunting. The individual silhouetted on the table looks like a tiny doll being swallowed by an enormous maw. The I.M.R.T. machine is likely not the type that will be used for my treatment. However, I do like to engage in anticipatory worrying.
I’ve checked the http://www.breastcancer.org/ web site to find out more about radiation therapy. Online, the doctors suggest asking questions I would never have thought of. A sample: Does the radiation oncologist use 3-dimensional treatment planning systems? Are there certified physicists involved with the planning? Is there a certified dosimetrist?
I had to look up “dosimetrist.” Turns out it’s just like it sounds. A dosimetrist, according to http://www.cancer.gov/, “determines the proper radiation dose for treatment.”
And we’ll leave it there for now.
The gist of the article is that operators of radiation machinery can rely too heavily on the computer-controlled devices. When the software acts up, improper data is fed in, or warning signals are given out by the system, operators don’t always check for, or catch, the mistakes. A review of state records in New York found there were 621 radiation mistakes from January 2001 to January 2009. The errors included: wrong dose given, wrong patient treated, the beams missed all or part of the intended target.
The personal stories cited in the article included two where egregious errors were committed. One resulted in a man’s head and neck being over-radiated. He died of his horrible injuries after two years of suffering. The second left a breast cancer patient with a burning, gaping hole in her chest. She too died in terrible pain.
Even when everything is done properly, Dr. John J. Feldmeier, a radiation oncologist at the University of Toledo and a leading authority on radiation injuries, estimates that one in twenty patients will suffer injuries, according to the Times piece. Most of these are “normal complications.”
I wonder whether these complications include the organ damage and radiation-induced cancer that can be caused and might not show up for decades.
A diagram of an Intensity Modulated Radiation Therapy (I.M.R.T.) machine accompanies the Times story. The image is daunting. The individual silhouetted on the table looks like a tiny doll being swallowed by an enormous maw. The I.M.R.T. machine is likely not the type that will be used for my treatment. However, I do like to engage in anticipatory worrying.
I’ve checked the http://www.breastcancer.org/ web site to find out more about radiation therapy. Online, the doctors suggest asking questions I would never have thought of. A sample: Does the radiation oncologist use 3-dimensional treatment planning systems? Are there certified physicists involved with the planning? Is there a certified dosimetrist?
I had to look up “dosimetrist.” Turns out it’s just like it sounds. A dosimetrist, according to http://www.cancer.gov/, “determines the proper radiation dose for treatment.”
And we’ll leave it there for now.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
The sun is trying to come out over Northern California. A valiant, though faint, effort following a week of wicked storms. My father drove me to my third chemotherapy treatment in a downpour this past Tuesday. (I’ve learned the hospital calls these treatments “infusions.” I must get with the jargon here.)
It had to be a labor of love, my father’s driving through sheets of rain from his hometown fifteen miles away. Then, too, sitting and waiting through my four-hour infusion can’t have been fun. I would think, since he’s been through his own chemotherapy at the HMO we belong to, he’d run in the opposite direction. Actually, I think he likes to flirt with the nurses. He knows them all.
One of the oncology nurses is a neighbor of mine. I reminded her that, when she moved in across the street and told me of her profession, I said, “Ew,” and gave a little shudder. She nodded. “And now,” she said, “here we are.” Yes indeed, here we are.
“One day soon, this will all be a blip on the radar,” my nurse-neighbor told me before my first infusion in early December 2009. This week, my sister sent me a card with much the same sentiment. “One day soon, this will be a memory,” she wrote. One day . . . soon.
The memory plays interesting tricks. A friend told me how well she’d handled her own chemotherapy for breast cancer some years ago. Days later she confided that she’d been so weak at one juncture, she’d needed a blood transfusion. Ah yes, someday soon . . .
I know I make an impatient patient. But being in the middle of this cure for cancer is painful, sad, and all consuming. There is no way to dress it up. One day soon cannot come soon enough.
It had to be a labor of love, my father’s driving through sheets of rain from his hometown fifteen miles away. Then, too, sitting and waiting through my four-hour infusion can’t have been fun. I would think, since he’s been through his own chemotherapy at the HMO we belong to, he’d run in the opposite direction. Actually, I think he likes to flirt with the nurses. He knows them all.
One of the oncology nurses is a neighbor of mine. I reminded her that, when she moved in across the street and told me of her profession, I said, “Ew,” and gave a little shudder. She nodded. “And now,” she said, “here we are.” Yes indeed, here we are.
“One day soon, this will all be a blip on the radar,” my nurse-neighbor told me before my first infusion in early December 2009. This week, my sister sent me a card with much the same sentiment. “One day soon, this will be a memory,” she wrote. One day . . . soon.
The memory plays interesting tricks. A friend told me how well she’d handled her own chemotherapy for breast cancer some years ago. Days later she confided that she’d been so weak at one juncture, she’d needed a blood transfusion. Ah yes, someday soon . . .
I know I make an impatient patient. But being in the middle of this cure for cancer is painful, sad, and all consuming. There is no way to dress it up. One day soon cannot come soon enough.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
When I first told people about my breast cancer diagnosis, waves of wonderful things arrived in my home unbidden. There were cards, flowers, a cookie bouquet, and a food basket. As time went on, there were gifts of homemade soup and a housecleaning, given by a neighbor and friend. Caps, first knitted by one friend, then another, then purchased by a man who works with my father at Guide Dogs for the Blind appeared. I especially like the cap from the 2008 Beijing Olympics. It even fits!
Books about cancer arrived on my doorstep and appeared in my mailbox from out-of-state. My initial reaction to these was, “I’m living this. Why would I want to read about it?” The question was quickly answered as I wanted information about treatments, side effects, and how to read a pathology report. Two of the books are well-thumbed through, another remains to be explored.
There is a book, one I picked up at my HMO shortly after my diagnosis, that I set aside and did not intend to read. It’s title, “I flunked my Mammogram!”--in pink and complete with exclamation point--was just too off-putting. It seemed to trivialize such a devastating disease. I’ve since picked it up and determined it must be intended for the younger reader. It lays out topics in a basic, clear form. There is a page for notes after major sections.
“I flunked my Mammogram!” has this to say under the heading What Exactly is Cancer?: “In its simplest terms, a cancer cell is a cell that just doesn’t know when to stop dividing. All cells have a natural lifespan, but sometimes a cell just won’t die when it’s time is up. The cell may have been altered by some outside factor, or in the case of inherited cancers, a mutation to its genetic code may have been passed down from earlier generations, causing it to keep dividing and growing. Cancer just doesn’t appear overnight; it takes years to develop to a detectable stage.”
Under the heading of Prevention?, the mammogram flunking book says breast cancer cannot be prevented. “Not yet, and maybe never.” However, researchers are focusing on diet and on specific vitamins and minerals that appear to have a “cancer-preventive effect.” Exercise is again recommended. The book notes that studies have shown that regular exercise can lower estrogen levels. Estrogen has been linked to breast cancer. “Fat cells store estrogen. The less fat you carry, the less estrogen you store--and the less potential stimulation of breast cancer cells.”
So the shunned “I flunked my Mammogram!” book, authored by Dr. Ernie Bodai, MD, and Richard A. Zmuda, has its place. Maybe it’s just the title that wants changing.
Books about cancer arrived on my doorstep and appeared in my mailbox from out-of-state. My initial reaction to these was, “I’m living this. Why would I want to read about it?” The question was quickly answered as I wanted information about treatments, side effects, and how to read a pathology report. Two of the books are well-thumbed through, another remains to be explored.
There is a book, one I picked up at my HMO shortly after my diagnosis, that I set aside and did not intend to read. It’s title, “I flunked my Mammogram!”--in pink and complete with exclamation point--was just too off-putting. It seemed to trivialize such a devastating disease. I’ve since picked it up and determined it must be intended for the younger reader. It lays out topics in a basic, clear form. There is a page for notes after major sections.
“I flunked my Mammogram!” has this to say under the heading What Exactly is Cancer?: “In its simplest terms, a cancer cell is a cell that just doesn’t know when to stop dividing. All cells have a natural lifespan, but sometimes a cell just won’t die when it’s time is up. The cell may have been altered by some outside factor, or in the case of inherited cancers, a mutation to its genetic code may have been passed down from earlier generations, causing it to keep dividing and growing. Cancer just doesn’t appear overnight; it takes years to develop to a detectable stage.”
Under the heading of Prevention?, the mammogram flunking book says breast cancer cannot be prevented. “Not yet, and maybe never.” However, researchers are focusing on diet and on specific vitamins and minerals that appear to have a “cancer-preventive effect.” Exercise is again recommended. The book notes that studies have shown that regular exercise can lower estrogen levels. Estrogen has been linked to breast cancer. “Fat cells store estrogen. The less fat you carry, the less estrogen you store--and the less potential stimulation of breast cancer cells.”
So the shunned “I flunked my Mammogram!” book, authored by Dr. Ernie Bodai, MD, and Richard A. Zmuda, has its place. Maybe it’s just the title that wants changing.
Monday, January 18, 2010
When my father had chemotherapy years ago, he grew thinner and thinner. He still is thin, to this day. At the time of his treatment for colon cancer he said food “tasted like cardboard.” He had to force himself to eat.
When I heard I’d need chemotherapy, I’d hoped for a little weight loss. I could stand to lose a few pounds. I haven’t lost a single one. My appetite is still there, though I’m not sure why. Most foods have a bitter aftertaste to them. This past weekend I made fresh crab, homemade cocktail sauce, an accompanying salad with avocado, bell pepper, and crab meat. Such work. Such a wonderful meal. Such a bitter, nothing taste to the crab. I wondered why this was so and looked online.
From www.cancersupportivecare.com/diet comes this answer to the question about food tasting different: “Both smell receptor and taste bud cells are rapidly dividing cells. Many cancer chemotherapy agents act by killing off rapidly dividing cells, including these receptor cells. Bitter and metallic tastes are intensified possibly causing food aversions whereas sweet tastes tend to be tolerated well. Metallic and bitter tastes are usually perceived in foods such as meat (from the amino acids) and flavors like soy sauce.”
The web site offers some recommendations to enhance the flavor of food while undergoing chemotherapy. Suggestions include:
--Sweeten food with healthy alternatives such as fruit juices.
--Use fruit sauces with meats.
--Serve fruit nectars with meals.
--Enhance the flavor of meat, chicken or fish by marinating with fruit juice or sweet wine. Serve with a fruit sauce, such as mango or sweetened cranberry sauce.
--Try colder foods to eliminate smells. Cold foods can be good sources of protein and calories.
Somehow, I cannot see serving fish with a fruit sauce. But the other suggestions are definitely worth a try.
When I heard I’d need chemotherapy, I’d hoped for a little weight loss. I could stand to lose a few pounds. I haven’t lost a single one. My appetite is still there, though I’m not sure why. Most foods have a bitter aftertaste to them. This past weekend I made fresh crab, homemade cocktail sauce, an accompanying salad with avocado, bell pepper, and crab meat. Such work. Such a wonderful meal. Such a bitter, nothing taste to the crab. I wondered why this was so and looked online.
From www.cancersupportivecare.com/diet comes this answer to the question about food tasting different: “Both smell receptor and taste bud cells are rapidly dividing cells. Many cancer chemotherapy agents act by killing off rapidly dividing cells, including these receptor cells. Bitter and metallic tastes are intensified possibly causing food aversions whereas sweet tastes tend to be tolerated well. Metallic and bitter tastes are usually perceived in foods such as meat (from the amino acids) and flavors like soy sauce.”
The web site offers some recommendations to enhance the flavor of food while undergoing chemotherapy. Suggestions include:
--Sweeten food with healthy alternatives such as fruit juices.
--Use fruit sauces with meats.
--Serve fruit nectars with meals.
--Enhance the flavor of meat, chicken or fish by marinating with fruit juice or sweet wine. Serve with a fruit sauce, such as mango or sweetened cranberry sauce.
--Try colder foods to eliminate smells. Cold foods can be good sources of protein and calories.
Somehow, I cannot see serving fish with a fruit sauce. But the other suggestions are definitely worth a try.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
It’s taken about two months for me to go from believing the organics label is simply a way for grocers to charge more, and the health aids label is just a “buncha bunk,” to becoming a convert. All right, I’m not totally converted. But my feet are pointed in that direction.
It started with the nurse educator at my HMO who told me that most toothpastes contain alcohol. She recommended some that are alcohol-free and suggested teas to aid with digestion.
From there, I looked for foods to build up the white blood cell count in order to fight colds and infection. I found a few of these: beef, broccoli, cauliflower, spinach, pumpkin, carrots, and shitake mushrooms.
The best discovery was free-range chicken eggs. Just two of these makes a fluffy omelet so large it’s hard to consume in one sitting. My husband also brought home a second type--brown, fertilized eggs--this weekend. He cracked a couple of them open for breakfast and said, “Whoops, there’s a feather. Here comes the beak.” Funny man, my husband.
We wondered whether fertilized eggs are consumable. Here’s what http://www.sciencebuzz.org/ had to say: “If an egg has been fertilized, then the embryo inside has already divided several times but remains a group of unspecialized cells (at the time the egg is laid).” So yes, a fertilized egg is edible.
I’m not so convinced when it comes to the organic lettuces from the supermarket. The pre-washed spinach and the butter lettuce packaged in plastic, complete with roots, tastes the same to me as the “regular” lettuce.
A restaurant I discovered in Oakland, Calif. last summer served salad with the most wonderful lettuce. According to the restaurant, some nice ones can be had from these organizations, which often sell through farmers markets: Coke Farm, Star Route Farms, Blue Heron Farms.
I'm liking the "raw" sugar over the refined white sugar. It seems to sweeten without being too sweet. And I am a fan of milk soaps, another new find. These help keep the skin from drying out, though the scent is a little odd.
It is fun and interesting to try these new things, whether or not they become a permanent part of our lives. I’m looking forward to discovering more. Please comment on this blog if you’ve found some healthy foods you especially love.
It started with the nurse educator at my HMO who told me that most toothpastes contain alcohol. She recommended some that are alcohol-free and suggested teas to aid with digestion.
From there, I looked for foods to build up the white blood cell count in order to fight colds and infection. I found a few of these: beef, broccoli, cauliflower, spinach, pumpkin, carrots, and shitake mushrooms.
The best discovery was free-range chicken eggs. Just two of these makes a fluffy omelet so large it’s hard to consume in one sitting. My husband also brought home a second type--brown, fertilized eggs--this weekend. He cracked a couple of them open for breakfast and said, “Whoops, there’s a feather. Here comes the beak.” Funny man, my husband.
We wondered whether fertilized eggs are consumable. Here’s what http://www.sciencebuzz.org/ had to say: “If an egg has been fertilized, then the embryo inside has already divided several times but remains a group of unspecialized cells (at the time the egg is laid).” So yes, a fertilized egg is edible.
I’m not so convinced when it comes to the organic lettuces from the supermarket. The pre-washed spinach and the butter lettuce packaged in plastic, complete with roots, tastes the same to me as the “regular” lettuce.
A restaurant I discovered in Oakland, Calif. last summer served salad with the most wonderful lettuce. According to the restaurant, some nice ones can be had from these organizations, which often sell through farmers markets: Coke Farm, Star Route Farms, Blue Heron Farms.
I'm liking the "raw" sugar over the refined white sugar. It seems to sweeten without being too sweet. And I am a fan of milk soaps, another new find. These help keep the skin from drying out, though the scent is a little odd.
It is fun and interesting to try these new things, whether or not they become a permanent part of our lives. I’m looking forward to discovering more. Please comment on this blog if you’ve found some healthy foods you especially love.
Friday, January 15, 2010
In the final chapter of their book, Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide, doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman address the social issues of breast cancer. I’ve excerpted a few of their observations in today’s blog because they speak to my heart.
The authors open the chapter with these questions: “If, as we have learned, one out of eight women in America will develop breast cancer during her lifetime, why aren’t we doing more about it? Why isn’t this a primary national concern? Why aren’t more effort and more money being put into the problem?”
According to the authors, in 2003 the National Cancer Institute (NCI) had a budget of $536 million for breast cancer research, and the Department of Defense (DOD) allocation was $150 million. Since then the NCI’s budget has increased only slightly and the DOD allocation has dipped. “Despite the significant funds (for breast cancer research) it remains under funded . . . Each year, innovative research proposals are submitted to the NCI for approval. Of those accepted as worthy of support, there is at present only enough money to fund twenty percent. Each grant not funded represents an opportunity lost.”
The role that exposure to toxic agents in our environment may play in causing breast cancer is attracting scientific interest and funding. According to the authors, one causative factor being reinvestigated is a “possible link between breast cancer and insecticide residues that may have entered the food chain and water supply.”
The authors, whose book was published in 2008, had this to say about mammography. “More women than ever are aware of the importance of following an early-detection screening plan: regular mammograms supplemented by breast self-examination and an annual examination by a physician. The proportion of women over forty who get regular mammograms has increased, but we still have not reached all women who should be screened.”
According to the doctors, breast cancer research should have “higher government priorities for funding.” The National Breast Cancer Coalition, headquartered in Washington, D.C., is especially effective in articulating the need for public action. Also effective are the efforts of the Susan G. Komen Foundation in Dallas, Texas, which has become a “major nongovernmental source of breast cancer research funding.” The foundation’s website can be found at: http://www.komen.org
Doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman question whether we, as a nation, have the commitment to eradicate breast cancer. “Certainly women have it . . . women who have had breast cancer . . . or whose close friends or relatives have had it. And if we add to that number the men whose wives and sisters and girlfriends and mothers have had the disease . . . it means that a very large proportion of our population has a stake in a national determination to beat breast cancer. Whether we can mobilize to achieve this goal remains to be seen.”
The authors open the chapter with these questions: “If, as we have learned, one out of eight women in America will develop breast cancer during her lifetime, why aren’t we doing more about it? Why isn’t this a primary national concern? Why aren’t more effort and more money being put into the problem?”
According to the authors, in 2003 the National Cancer Institute (NCI) had a budget of $536 million for breast cancer research, and the Department of Defense (DOD) allocation was $150 million. Since then the NCI’s budget has increased only slightly and the DOD allocation has dipped. “Despite the significant funds (for breast cancer research) it remains under funded . . . Each year, innovative research proposals are submitted to the NCI for approval. Of those accepted as worthy of support, there is at present only enough money to fund twenty percent. Each grant not funded represents an opportunity lost.”
The role that exposure to toxic agents in our environment may play in causing breast cancer is attracting scientific interest and funding. According to the authors, one causative factor being reinvestigated is a “possible link between breast cancer and insecticide residues that may have entered the food chain and water supply.”
The authors, whose book was published in 2008, had this to say about mammography. “More women than ever are aware of the importance of following an early-detection screening plan: regular mammograms supplemented by breast self-examination and an annual examination by a physician. The proportion of women over forty who get regular mammograms has increased, but we still have not reached all women who should be screened.”
According to the doctors, breast cancer research should have “higher government priorities for funding.” The National Breast Cancer Coalition, headquartered in Washington, D.C., is especially effective in articulating the need for public action. Also effective are the efforts of the Susan G. Komen Foundation in Dallas, Texas, which has become a “major nongovernmental source of breast cancer research funding.” The foundation’s website can be found at: http://www.komen.org
Doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman question whether we, as a nation, have the commitment to eradicate breast cancer. “Certainly women have it . . . women who have had breast cancer . . . or whose close friends or relatives have had it. And if we add to that number the men whose wives and sisters and girlfriends and mothers have had the disease . . . it means that a very large proportion of our population has a stake in a national determination to beat breast cancer. Whether we can mobilize to achieve this goal remains to be seen.”
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Every so often a favorite author disappoints. Such was the case for me on reading Pat Conroy’s South of Broad. It isn’t merely the errors in chronology and detail (more on these in a minute) that disappoint. It’s the story itself.
Conroy sets his story in his beloved Charleston, South Carolina. He trots out the usual dysfunctional families, the abusive father, and downtrodden mother. His setup intrigues until one reads what caused the brother of the protagonist to kill himself, and one thinks, “Oh, not that cliché. Please.”
The unique bond among the main characters pulled me through the story. There were clever moments. The writing was lyrical, beautifully done in the best Conroy fashion. But, there were things that disturbed me as a reader and a writer.
Conroy begins with a prologue that is a five-page love poem to Charleston. Never mind that literary agents are telling new authors that prologues are passé. More to the point, nothing of interest happens in the prologue. It shows the main character, Leo, as a boy on his paper route. This gives the author his vehicle for providing back story and expounding on the loveliness of Charleston. There’s not more to it than that.
Agents tell new authors, too, that a novel’s action must begin immediately. The reader, they say, has to be grabbed and held from the first sentence. South of Broad’s first forty-five pages are filled with nothing but descriptions and back story. It is not until page forty-six that the real action begins.
New authors are also told to keep characters to a minimum. Evidently, the poor reader cannot grasp more than a few characters at a time. This is a “rule” I’ve never liked. I thank Conroy for flouting it and introducing a fistful of characters in the first chapters of his book.
Sadly, there are several errors in South of Broad. I say sadly because with an author of Conroy’s stature and an editor, Nan Talese, who has won awards for excellence in editing one just wouldn’t expect to see these kinds of mistakes:
--In the first pages of the book, an adult tells Leo he would be attractive save for his horrible glasses. Throughout the story, Leo is called “Toad.” At the story’s end, a priest tells Leo he is just too ugly.
--Early on in the book, Leo says he is doing something “just after three.” Six pages later, on the same day, he is going somewhere at the “noonday hour.”
--In one chapter Leo meets someone on a San Francisco cable car. A few chapters later, Leo recalls meeting the individual in an alley in San Francisco.
To some readers these are minor mistakes. But they are enough to throw a reader out of the story. And sloppy editing isn’t something I’d associate with the Conroy-Talese team. All around, between the usual dysfunctional characters--many so over-the-top one has trouble believing in them--and the sloppy editing it’s hard to recommend South of Broad.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
On December 22, 2009 I started to lose my hair. Not in great clumps, but strand by strand. And I have a lot of hair. Christmas Day my sister said to me, “Why not just shave it off now? Then you won’t have it all over your pillow.”
Well . . . It’s my hair and my pillow. And my vanity, I suppose. I wasn’t prepared to see myself bald. I’m using the past tense because today . . . well, I’m nearly there.
Part of my reason for letting the process follow its natural course was morbid curiosity. I’d heard from breast cancer survivors that their hair came out in clumps. Mine did not. I did have the burning scalp I’d heard about. And my hair felt like bits of stiff thatch. The texture was strange and the feeling of straw pricking into the scalp uncomfortable. When I reached up to touch it, I had it in my hand in pieces.
I’m still losing hair. I have a very thin covering over the back of the head. My hairdresser has always told me I have enough for two people. Women, usually older and with thinning pates, have stopped me on the street to exclaim about it being so thick and wavy. I’m counting on being able to grow it again quickly and thickly.
Women taking chemotherapy for breast cancer lose their hair because the chemicals used damage the cells that cause hair growth. Doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman had this to say about hair loss in their book Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide: “This is the side effect that causes women the greatest sadness. At a time when they are extremely vulnerable, their appearance may be radically changed, and their illness given a visible and very upsetting public manifestation. But every strand of hair will grow back.”
When it does grow back, I’m told, it usually has a nice luster. It can be more curly. Sometimes it’s a different color. I’ve already put my order in for red hair this time. And while I’m at it, I’d like my eye color changed to green. Oh, and could I please be about five inches taller, too?
A friend recently told me that, with my good cheekbones, I looked just fine with next-to-no hair. She was being exceedingly kind. When I look in the mirror, a wizened little old man looks back at me. I know the face of Star Wars’ Yoda when I see it!
Well . . . It’s my hair and my pillow. And my vanity, I suppose. I wasn’t prepared to see myself bald. I’m using the past tense because today . . . well, I’m nearly there.
Part of my reason for letting the process follow its natural course was morbid curiosity. I’d heard from breast cancer survivors that their hair came out in clumps. Mine did not. I did have the burning scalp I’d heard about. And my hair felt like bits of stiff thatch. The texture was strange and the feeling of straw pricking into the scalp uncomfortable. When I reached up to touch it, I had it in my hand in pieces.
I’m still losing hair. I have a very thin covering over the back of the head. My hairdresser has always told me I have enough for two people. Women, usually older and with thinning pates, have stopped me on the street to exclaim about it being so thick and wavy. I’m counting on being able to grow it again quickly and thickly.
Women taking chemotherapy for breast cancer lose their hair because the chemicals used damage the cells that cause hair growth. Doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman had this to say about hair loss in their book Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide: “This is the side effect that causes women the greatest sadness. At a time when they are extremely vulnerable, their appearance may be radically changed, and their illness given a visible and very upsetting public manifestation. But every strand of hair will grow back.”
When it does grow back, I’m told, it usually has a nice luster. It can be more curly. Sometimes it’s a different color. I’ve already put my order in for red hair this time. And while I’m at it, I’d like my eye color changed to green. Oh, and could I please be about five inches taller, too?
A friend recently told me that, with my good cheekbones, I looked just fine with next-to-no hair. She was being exceedingly kind. When I look in the mirror, a wizened little old man looks back at me. I know the face of Star Wars’ Yoda when I see it!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
A dear friend of mine believes the human body is amazing. It knows when to send signals it is sick and often heals itself. A woman’s reproductive system knows when to start up and how to shut itself down. It’s a miracle.
To which I say, “Tosh,” or something to that effect. If the body were so miraculous, it would never get sick to begin with. Life is filled with illnesses that come unbidden. When the reproductive years end at forty, the body begins its steady decline. We are programmed to fail from the day we are born.
What I find amazing is how the mind governs the body during its tenure on earth. The feats of physical endurance and Olympic accomplishment are incredible. The inventions, the literature, the artistic and technological wonders created by the human brain are astounding.
Just the other night a documentary about the Berlin Airlift aired on one of our public broadcasting stations. The airlift, begun in early summer 1948, lasted nearly eleven months. During that time, Allied planes flew more than two million tons of food and fuel to Berliners whose Soviet occupiers blocked delivery of supplies to the city. Think of the creative minds that conceived of doing such a thing.
At the moment, there are two exhibits in San Francisco museums that are testaments to some of the greatest wonders of the world. The King Tut exhibit speaks to the great minds who architected ancient Egypt. The Cartier exhibit shines a spotlight on some of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry ever conceived by artistic minds.
Last Christmas, my husband and I went into an Apple Computer store to look at iPhones. The iPhone and its ilk are the latest technological wonders of our time. Think of the brains behind the brilliance of these little devices.
Yes, I think the mind trumps the body on most occasions. Of course, the best of all worlds is achieved when the two are able to work in concert. May you have an especially brilliant day today.
To which I say, “Tosh,” or something to that effect. If the body were so miraculous, it would never get sick to begin with. Life is filled with illnesses that come unbidden. When the reproductive years end at forty, the body begins its steady decline. We are programmed to fail from the day we are born.
What I find amazing is how the mind governs the body during its tenure on earth. The feats of physical endurance and Olympic accomplishment are incredible. The inventions, the literature, the artistic and technological wonders created by the human brain are astounding.
Just the other night a documentary about the Berlin Airlift aired on one of our public broadcasting stations. The airlift, begun in early summer 1948, lasted nearly eleven months. During that time, Allied planes flew more than two million tons of food and fuel to Berliners whose Soviet occupiers blocked delivery of supplies to the city. Think of the creative minds that conceived of doing such a thing.
At the moment, there are two exhibits in San Francisco museums that are testaments to some of the greatest wonders of the world. The King Tut exhibit speaks to the great minds who architected ancient Egypt. The Cartier exhibit shines a spotlight on some of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry ever conceived by artistic minds.
Last Christmas, my husband and I went into an Apple Computer store to look at iPhones. The iPhone and its ilk are the latest technological wonders of our time. Think of the brains behind the brilliance of these little devices.
Yes, I think the mind trumps the body on most occasions. Of course, the best of all worlds is achieved when the two are able to work in concert. May you have an especially brilliant day today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)