Rock the bald.

Huh.

2012-01-20T11:16:00.000-05:00

I don't want to jinx myself but . . . if I finish this writing assignment and it is published then I will have published in a medical journal, a law journal, and a social work journal, in addition to criminology and sociology journals. I'm oddly proud of this. Though "publishing" and "being relevant" are two different things.

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

LIvin' on a ukelele and a prayer.

2012-01-18T17:54:00.000-05:00

There was an article in the New York Times about learning music with on-line instruction and it included a link to this YouTube video of Matt Dahlberg, 22, a community college student. I thought it was so beautiful that I have listened to it and watched this video every day ever since. I love the music, but I also love this young man's expressiveness.

I showed this clip to my students yesterday. I told them it had nothing to do with the class (though we found a way to connect it), and everything to do with feeling calm.

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

Life with kale and ukeleles.

2012-01-16T21:52:00.002-05:00

Jessi's been visiting (she's en route South Africa) and that has been lovely. We kicked around Spanish Harlem and ate birthday cake in Harlem and went to a ukelele thing in Brooklyn with Fury and Melissa.

Friday, I went to onco for my shoulder/neck issues. It was supposed to be a 30 minute visit but wound up being 2.5 hours. I saw a pain specialist. Dr. S. also inserted fine needles into my neck in an attempt to reduce inflammation. I'm signed up for twice a week physical therapy. It's kind of daunting. I don't have time for this stuff but I'm afraid of what will happen if I ignore it. Saw Ri, Rich and the girls that night which was special as always.

Somehow I finished one syllabus (classes start tomorrow). I observed MLK Day by going to NAPW today and working on a medical journal article Lynn and I are writing. Came home to eat lentils Pierre had prepared. I'm a'fixin' to make me some kale chips like Jessi showed me how to make.

I don't know how I'm going to get it all done this year given the neck stuff, the three classes at two campuses stuff, the new prep stuff, the NAPW stuff, the "less time at the computer" stuff, the house hunt stuff... Not the happiest time in my life. But maybe one that, down the road, I will look back on with some sense of achievement.

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

Four years.

2012-01-13T09:47:00.000-05:00

Four years ago, I went to dinner with Maria and her family. Came home and a few hours later found the lump that turned out to be cancer. Today, like nearly every year, I'll join 'Ri for dinner, but plan to skip the "finding a lump" part. I also see an oncologist today and will learn more about my neck.

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

NAPW Sunday.

2012-01-09T08:41:00.001-05:00

Sunday morning, I went down to NAPW and Lynn and I worked on an article we hope to submit to a public health or medical journal. It was an excellent work session, the best I've had in months. We have exchanged drafts but yesterday we sat at the table and went through it together, sentence by sentence, hashing out phrasing, clarifying meaning, discussing examples. I learn so much from Lynn.

Plus, it's always cool to be out and about on a Sunday morning. A city of millions and you can still be on your own.

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

Garage Band.

2012-01-09T08:36:00.000-05:00

On Saturday, me and Pierre* went downtown to a class on Garage Band at the Guitar Center on 14th Street. I wasn't wild about going but said "okay" because I think it is better to date someone who says "Hey, I saw this workshop on recording music. Wanna check it out with me?" than "Here, honey. I bought you this heating pad and a therapy cane."** So we went and it was cool. Maybe 35 people (maybe 5 or 6 women). A NYC-mix of races and ethnicities. Maybe 18-60 in terms of age. Care to guess the race and gender of the person who would not shut up with the comments and the questions-that-are-not-really-questions? Yep.

Afterwards, we went upstairs to worship at the altar of amazing guitars.

* I know this is grammatically incorrect. There are outings that are "Pierre and I" and others that be for "me and Pierre."
** I own a heating pad, a hot water bottle, and a therapy cane. Chronic pain is a humbler.
© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

Does the New York Times have something against fat people?

2012-01-08T18:14:00.004-05:00

It is my completely unscientific and impressionistic conclusion that the New York Times does not like fat people. I cite as evidence:

1. This article -- and its veiled "pooh-poohing" of a young woman's [completely justifiable and certainly understandable] reservations about having gastric bypass surgery. Yes, there was some criticism of the surgery but, IMHO, it was far too hard on the young woman and far too uncritical of the surgeon who pushed for the operation.

2. Another gem which also appeared in today's Times: "The fever of Filene’s Basement! Once I was fighting for space at a rack filled with overstock from Saks Fifth Avenue, another magical name. A woman beside me pulled out a dress and shrieked, 'My God, Mabel, look! It’s the same dress.' She began falling backward in a faint, toward me, and I knew that I should try to catch her, but she was very fat, and I did not." That's supposed to be funny? Cuz it's not.
3. Or this in 2005, reporting on the heroics of rescuers in the wake of Hurricane Katrina: "As of Tuesday night, they reported saving 315 people, including a 400-pound woman who was reached by cutting through a roof and a belligerent woman who had run out of methadone." I swear I could feel the editor's grudging substitution of the word "including" for the word "even".

4. Or the July 2007 article reporting that there is a correlation between having obese friends and being obese. A dear friend of mine forwarded it to me with a [tongue-in-cheek] apology for being fat and contagious. This is my reply.

Dear Liz,

Of all the things I blame on you (making me doubt my knowledge of AM radio; causing me to question my fashion sense; undermining my confidence in my Scrabble-playing abilities), it never occurred to me that you were responsible for the shape of my body.

But since you mentioned it: Why am I going gray and getting wrinkles? Are you the reason I have big feet, a lousy memory, and don't know how to cook a pot roast? Come to think of it, the other day, when I tripped and bruised my shin, you really should have apologized. And just this morning, I burned the toast and ran out of postage stamps. I'm just saying.

Your friend,

Jeanne

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

Transcript.

2012-01-04T17:29:00.000-05:00

Often, when I wind up on a train without something to read, my thoughts run to the following: "Mom, Mom, Mom, cancer, Mom, Mom, Dad, Mom, my sister, work, Mom, Mom, Dad, cancer, Pierre, work, cancer, Mom, Mom, Pierre" and sometimes "I'm hungry."

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

I cooked.

2012-01-03T19:59:00.001-05:00

I had a hankering for pomegranates so I bought one. And then I got some cauliflower because I am still obsessed with roasted cauliflower. En route the cauliflower, I noticed a spaghetti squash. Spaghetti squash have fascinated me ever since I rejected one as a child. So I bought it and made it and it turned out okay. (I stir-fried it in a wok with olives and garlic, but forgot to take a photo of the finished product which, truth be told, was not that attractive.)

Pierre had already eaten. Which is why I decided to make it. I couldn't handle the pressure of feeding someone who was hungry. But he tried some later and then for the last hour, he has looked at me with what I think is referred to as "new respect."

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

Time with friends, time alone.

2012-01-02T22:22:00.000-05:00

I saw Yvette on Friday. Holly, Samir, Will on Saturday. Miki and her Mom Sunday night (did me a world of good). To a Brooklyn coffee shop today to see my friend Venice and her baby (babies are awfully cute), and Ingrid (from ZA). Evelyn is back in the country but leaves tomorrow. And Cris (from cancer cohort) will be here this week. Ri and Jessi on the 13th. I want to see everyone. But I also have so much work to do. And five oncology-related appointments in the next month.

I grab the time to myself when I can find it. Like walking part of the way back home from Lincoln Center last night.

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T13:50:00.000-05:00

Last night, Holly came over to celebrate her birthday. Pierre made paella. Holly brought a cake (which we frosted and adorned with pomegranate seeds <-- I am hooked on them now). We were joined by Samir, and then Pierre's childhood friend Will, his girlfriend, and his girlfriend's father. At midnight, Holly popped the party favor she bought at a 99-cent store which released a spectacular amount of confetti. It was a hoot. We carried on for a couple more hours after that. It was a wonderful way to ring in a new year. It really was.

© Copyright by author 2008-2012. All rights reserved.

Times Square and a piece of the Berlin Wall.

2011-12-31T16:30:00.000-05:00

Pierre day.

2011-12-31T16:25:00.001-05:00

Today Pierre and I went out for breakfast. The place didn't open up until 11 so we wandered around. We bought some coffee and went to Sephora and smelled perfumes and cologne. We also spent a few minutes at the 96th street subway sipping coffee and discussing resolutions. He said that he has been resolving things every day for the past year and is pretty happy with the way it has turned out. I resolved to "lighten up" in 2012.

I think I have seen Pierre smile more this year than any other and I smile just thinking about it.

Poised.

2011-12-31T15:39:00.000-05:00

I have approached the end of years like 1988 and 2008 kind of happy to see them behind me because they'd been hard, if educational. When the end of 2009 came, I was so sad to see it go since it really was the best year of my life. Many times, I have simply approached December 31 looking forward to a new year.

But this year? This year, I'm on an edge. Glad to have the year behind me in a lot of ways but ... but when I try to make peace with the possibility that next year might hold the death of my mom, I just can't.

I don't think I have ever felt like life was cruel before. I have felt that about people (especially some prosecutors) and policies but never about life.

I'm trying to do the whole "one day at a time" thing. And reverting to the lesson of 2008, i.e., when in doubt just breathe. And knowing that time is going to move me forward whether I am ready or not.

The Day before Boxing Day.

2011-12-26T11:38:00.002-05:00

Pierre spent much of the day cooking (we bought a new meat thermometer, and some organic pork chops to go along with it!). Afterwards, he played guitar and I tried to draw without thinking about it. On Christmas eve, I'd gone for a walk with a former professor and his wife, Judith. She teaches something called "intuitive painting." It can be summarized by this quote from Rumi: Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing there is a field. I will meet you there.

People in her workshops do not comment on each other's paintings, not even praise. And they use inexpensive materials to silence voices like "I do not know what I'm doing. I am wasting paint."

Last night I picked up my 69-cent box of children's paints, and a Sharpie, and had a go. Here are my efforts to date. I am going to try do 20 paintings without giving a d*mn and see what happens. It makes me think of the good times I have had with Maria and her "room for (lots of) error" projects. Like the hubcaps and the solstice eggs.

Happy Christmas.

2011-12-24T16:46:00.001-05:00

The High Life.

2011-12-24T16:43:00.001-05:00

Today, I met up with one of my former professors from graduate school and his wife, who is an artist. We ate brunch and walked the High Line. It was the best time.

O Me! O Life!

2011-12-23T23:23:00.000-05:00

by Walt Whitman.

O Me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Time Square.

2011-12-22T11:54:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning I went to OT. During a stretch (not a particularly challenging stretch) I became really faint and, apparently, pale. I haven't been feeling all that great lately. Not flu-ish or anything just too tired and more than a little stressed. Anyway, it kind of scared me. Long boring story short, I wound up spending the morning at MSKCC (and left with a prescription for antibiotics). But that's not the reason I'm writing. I'm writing because it was difficult to sit in a waiting room surrounded by people with cancer, many of whom were waiting for their chemotherapy because it made me think if my Mom sitting in a waiting room, waiting for her chemotherapy. (And my friend, Sue, too.) It was just hard.

Afterwards, I decided to walk to NAPW, since it was only about a mile away. I called Mom at some point and we chatted as I walked through Times Square. I know that Mom probably won't see Times Square again, you know? She probably won't come to NYC again. I know that and I am trying to be okay with that. I also tried to stay in the moment, and take solace in the fact that for now, my Mom is still here. I'm really grateful for that. I shouldn't lose the time I have now to grieving. There will be plenty of time for that.

I did take a photo or two as I walked, though. Just to take it all in, by way of saying "Here is where I am. Here is what it is like for me, right here, right now."

Shufflin'. (a teenage blog entry)

2011-12-22T11:22:00.000-05:00

Pierre and I both have iPod Shuffles. We both walk a lot (independently) and we both love listening to music as we do. Pierre likes my Shuffle better so he often asks to borrow it. He also gets a kick out of my music choices, saying both that they both surprise him and please him because they are really good and at the same time, are really me.

Anyway, I usually agree to lend him the Shuffle (though I miss it when I do), especially when he's going through a difficult time. It's a small way of saying, "I know things are tough but there's not much I can for you but here, take what I have. You need it more than I do right now."

It is also kind of a conversation. Because when we pass it over, the other person learns what music we last listened to, and in my case, likely listened to a couple times in a row. This morning, Pierre showed up in a bad place. He left, and came back, still in a bad place but this time he said that he had forgotten he had my Shuffle and was returning it since he'd had it a full day already and knew I was probably missing it. Then he left again. An hour later, I went to run an errand. I turned on the Shuffle and it was in the middle of Johnette Napolitano's cover of The Scientist. One of my favorite songs. And one I have listened to often in tough times. I listened to it and then, wondering, I "re-wound" to the previous song. And yes, it was the original Coldplay version of The Scientist.

"Nobody said it was easy. Noone ever said it would be this hard."

Oh, Pierre, baby. We'll get through all this. We will.

Two kinds of people in the world...

2011-12-18T21:33:00.000-05:00

Pierre and I checked some DVDs out of the library. When we get home, Pierre says (not unkindly): "You know, this DVD cover [referring to Hunger] is how I am and that DVD cover [referring to The Informant] is you."

True, true.

Though I think I have been good in bringing out his inner goofball, especially the last two years.

NAPW needs myrrh.

2011-12-14T15:50:00.001-05:00

I'll give $10 to National Advocates for Pregnant Women (up to $500) for every person who makes a donation to NAPW between now and December 31st. After all, Jochabed (mother of Moses) and Mary (mother of Jesus) were not the only pregnant women to give birth under less-than-ideal circumstances.
You can donate to NAPW here. (Be sure to mention "jeanne" -- or Jochabed or Mary! -- on the donation form.)

This is for Aunt Pat.

2011-12-13T21:07:00.000-05:00

Xmas cards.

2011-12-13T19:12:00.001-05:00

Most years, I pull together a xmas letter of sorts. I don't know what it does for other people, but it usually keeps me amused. This year, I'm stumped for a theme. There were definite high points, i.e., going to Genoa and Paris with Loredana. Being promoted to full professor. Driving across the United States with Pitchy. Seeing my Mom and Dad three or four times. Enjoying my students. Occupying and agitating. Introducing Pierre to Maria and my family. Pierre's continued sobriety. Seeing Jessi and Ingrid. Staying in touch with Anna. Ice cream nights and Pinkberry. Riding bikes. I am grateful for television shows like Parks and Recreation and Modern Family. And just the other night, Pierre's friend Will came over and I hung out with Greta for four hours. I have a good job and health insurance.

But. But. But. There was surgery I didn't want and a frozen shoulder and months of twice a week occupational therapy. And the abortive quest to own a home. There is the economy. And the hateful political climate. And Pitchy moving across the country. Me not going back to South Africa as I'd planned. And Miki's dad, a thoroughly good man, dying. My friend Dee dying. And Sue being diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. And, of course, Mom's diagnosis of pancreatic cancer which is so stunning and unfair and profoundly awful that it would be laughable except, well, it's my Mom.

So I don't know what I'm going to say. I feel the year deserves some acknowledgement.

I don't know what to make of it all. So I just keep my head down and keep working and try to stay in decent spirits and not take my mood out on anyone.

That gong you heard...

2011-12-13T04:46:00.002-05:00

...was the sound of the official return to my pre-diagnosis levels of stress. I have managed to affect a decent mood, for the most part. But am kind of in awe of the cr*p that is hitting the fan of people around me. And I would say about 75% of these problems could be alleviated if this economy (and the political climate) were not sucking so hard right now.

For why it's worth, I'm not committed to being this stressed. In fact, I'm trying to develop a strategy so that I can turn things around. For instance, I do try to get good sleep, to put rest and health over work. I try to live by "the thing you thing you absolutely cannot do and have no time for is that thing you must absolutely do." Which is why I hung out with Eileen the other afternoon and met some friends downtown on International Human Rights Day. And I will not take on additional work until I've cleared some of the things off my to-do list (see below).

Time for the 4 in the morning to-do list (in no particular order):

NAPW re-schedule board meeting
NAPW follow-up re: soapbox speaker's bureau
NAPW AJPH article
grade papers
grade precis
submit presentation grades
submit final grades
~~finalize minutes~~
submit book chapter
write book review essay
social activism student awards
write GCJ syllabus
write ethics syllabus
dissertation follow-up
K's letters of reference
G's prospectus
book flight to St Pete's
ESS Dorothy Roberts comments
SWS human rights remarks
SWS career remarks
SWS business meeting
pay MSKCC bill
sort out insurance mess
submit receipts for BCBS/Flex-spend
~~pick up contacts~~
xmas stuff.

Not depressed, blue.

2011-12-10T17:17:00.004-05:00

There's nothing irrational about feeling sad. There is a lot of sad/bad stuff going on. But some bright spots too. Yesterday, after a Senate meeting, I met with a former student. She used to babysit my surgical (breast) oncologist's kids; her mom also works at MSKCC. Anyway, we had a good advising session, part coursework, part future plans, part other stuff. She speaks French and is looking for an internship so I wrote to a few people I know making inquiries and one of them replied. He told me about a research project for survivors of torture from francophone trauma survivors, many of whom are recent immigrants from West or Central Africa. Oddly, that picked up my spirits.

Bad things are going to happen in this world. But there are good people trying to respond, trying to make sure they don't happen, trying to ensure nothing is worse than it already is.

[These photos were taken in Queens. Greta and I drove from the Bronx to Queens the other night, to pick up Greta's daughter and take her back up to the Bronx. All in all, we spent about four hours in a car that rainy night. And I didn't mind a bit. I really liked catching up with my girlfriend.]

If I could think of something to say, I would.

2011-12-08T22:32:00.000-05:00

I am torn between feelings of "This year cannot end fast enough" and not wanting to wish my life away.

This year has sucked mightily.

Dee Kingston. July 21, 1964 - December 2, 2011

2011-12-02T22:18:00.001-05:00

Dee,

I cannot help but feel as though you sent a student interested in gender non-conformity to me today as your way of saying "Good-bye." Thank you for that. You were a teacher right up until the end. jmf

Writing and not writing.

2011-12-01T09:21:00.000-05:00

I'm not posting here as much for a variety of reasons. One is some thing that are just too personal. That may sound strange coming from someone who is okay with some of the uglier aspects of life. But I want to respect the privacy of people like Pierre, my mom, and the rest of my family. I've also got a lot going on.

Home was good, though. My family and Pierre got along really well. I had deliberately not given much thought to how that would go and was counting on the fact that I am the most obnoxious member of my family; the others are far more polite and well-spoken. As it happens, to the extent that I worried, I needn't have bothered.

Home.

2011-11-29T12:07:00.000-05:00

Writing from Kansas City airport. The trip went really well. We played ping pong, shot guns (lots and lots of guns), ate pheasant that my brother-in-law shot, played guitar, played my little sister's dulcimer, ate pie, pie and more pie, drove up to Mount Carmel. Pierre practiced driving, shot skeet, shot targets. I cannot do the trip justice. Here's a link to some of the photos.

Going home.

2011-11-21T10:08:00.001-05:00

I'm headed home for Thanksgiving, with Pierre in tow. I think this is the fourth time I have introduced a boy to my parents, the second time (since I left home at 18) that I have brought a boy home, and the first time in a decade that any member of my family has met the guy I'm dating. So yeah, it's kind of a deal.

Harmonica!

2011-11-17T21:34:00.001-05:00

Tonight, Pierre and I were banging around on the guitars and one thing led to another and I went and got my harmonica. And I discovered I have a small heretofore undiscovered knack for it! It was loads of fun and surprised both of us. At one point, Pierre laughingly said -- as I got particularly "into" my part -- "I am trying so hard not to stereotype you right now."

It felt great. It's been awhile since I've had a completely brand-new experience. I swear I can feel my brain cracking open.

And to my neighbors: Sorry for the noise! Consider it a bit of gentle karmic reckoning for the loud party you had last weekend.

Rats.

2011-11-15T08:52:00.000-05:00

I went to occupational therapy yesterday. While I was there, I thought I'd ask for the results to the MRI on my cervical spine. Good news: "There are no suspicious marrow lesions to suggest metastatic disease" (I was not expecting there to be any mets, but it is still always good to hear). Not-good news: I'm losing intervertebral disc height and signal for a couple vertebrae. At C5/C6, there is "severe compromise of the right neural foramen and moderate narrowing of the left neural foramen." Hmmm. That's not good. But it perhaps it explains the occasional shooting pain I get down one of my arms and sometimes, down one of my legs.

I'm going to chalk this up to normal aging. Or possibly, standing on my head.

I'm meant to start physical therapy for this but I asked if we could hold off until I got my shoulder sorted out (they're going to try "cold lasers"!) and Dr. S. said "okay."

Multi-tasking.

2011-11-12T16:32:00.003-05:00

Mom would say I have too much time on my hands and that is why I'm always upset.
While there is truth to what she says, I think she under-estimates how much I multi-task and how much I remember. And how much thinking I can cram into one short walk.

Harlem.

2011-11-12T16:31:00.001-05:00

I was walking down 125th to meet Holly. I was listening to music and thinking about Mom probably not getting to see Harlem or so many other aspects of my life that I've always wanted to show my family. As I passed by a sidewalk vendor, he kind of stepped in front of me and said, "Stop! Stop and look at my hats!" And I said, "I'm sorry, I can't right now." And he said, "Why not? It'll only take a minute." And instead of ignoring him or saying "Because I'm on my way to meet a friend," I kind of blurted "Because my mom is sick." And this man stopped and said, "Oh honey, I'm sorry to hear about that. Is it serious?" and I nodded and the tears came up (but I was not crying) and he gave me this enormous hug. Then I said, "Thank you" and he said "You tell your mom I will keep her right here" and he tapped his chest. "I will." And I carried on my way to meet Holly.

Honestly, it sounds weird when I write it down but there was nothing weird about it when it happened. Only good.

I hardly cried when I was in Kansas. But now that I'm back in NYC, I cry to myself quite a bit. I think part of it is the realization that I have known that my mom and dad do not really have a sense of my life here but I have always thought "Well, maybe one day they will come back** out here and when they do, I will show them x, I will introduce them to y, I will take them to z restaurant or place..." I will show them how I didn't completely leave Kansas and there is much about my life here that is very much like my life back home, where people look out for each other and help each other out. I was going to show them these things but that will not be happening and that will have to be okay.

**They visited me years and years ago, not long after I moved here. But I hardly knew my own life back then. Still, I am grateful for that visit and dragging them all over the city. I am grateful that they have met many (but not all) of my most important friends. It helps.

When I was told.

2011-11-11T20:12:00.001-05:00

October 5, 2011. So Tuesday was a long day. I went to bed around 9 pm. Around 11 pm the phone rang. Pierre says "It's your parents." I tell him I'm not going to answer because I am too tired to have a conversation (which is true). A few minutes later the phone rings again. Pierre says "It's your parents again." And then I feel sick as I realize: this is not good. This can only be bad news. I say this out loud. Pierre brings me the ringing phone and gently insists, "Answer it. You have to answer it." "No, I don't want to. It's going to be bad." He presses. Finally I answer the phone but they have already hung up. I sit there with the phone. I know something bad has happened. Pierre waits. When he sees me dial, he leaves the room to give me privacy. I call back. Dad answers. "Hi, Jeanne. How are things with you?" And I'm like "Where's Mom? Is something wrong with Mom? Is Mom alive?" And when he says "Yes, she's here" I am so happy. I am so damned happy. But then they tell me that Mom seems to have pancreatic cancer.

And I just say "No, no, no. This is not happening." But it is. And I try to pull myself together and say stupid things like, "But Dad! How can this be? You are always the one with the near-death experiences!" (He has had last rites six times, I think. Well, he has almost died six times but maybe he has only had last rites three times.) And I say "Of course you have a rare, lethal cancer. No garden-variety cancers for our family! No sirree!"

I say other things. They say things. We talk a little about what might happen.

I called Mom the next morning because I hoped that it was all a dream but it wasn't. And we talk about Dad a little and how he depends on her. (He is nearly blind.) I know that she is worried about him, but also about who will look after him when she dies. And I try to reassure her that we will sort all of it out.

Today, Mom, Dad, Karin, and Craig went to Hutchinson. Tests and appointments all day, but nothing much learned. They are being sent to KU Medical Center.

I am trying to hold my sh*t together. I am trying to go back to that moment where I was so relieved that she was alive.

But this is hard. This is hard, hard, hard. And I cannot type anymore because it is too hard.

Approaching NYC.

2011-11-11T19:40:00.000-05:00

What's ahead.

2011-11-11T19:35:00.001-05:00

It was really good to go home. Intense, but only in good ways. Everywhere I went, I encountered people who told me about some way Mom had helped them out, or something they admired about her. Yeah, one could say that is what you’d expect but this was more than usual. This was about her years as a nurse, and as a hospice volunteer, on the school board, as a substitute teacher and on and on and on and on. More than one person said she was a pillar of the community or a role model.

Mom was there for a family whose 20-something son died of a rare cancer less than a year ago. There was something about meeting this woman that got to me. Mom had told me of her son’s struggle without ever saying that she knew the family personally. And talking to the mother was hard, but at the same time very good. Even though it seems impossible, there are things that are even harder than Mom having cancer. I found talking to the mother very reassuring. Something about meeting someone who likely thought often about not wanting to carry on but doing so anyway.

On Monday, Mom and I visited one of my nun-aunts and then checked out a museum and the site of a POW concentration camp. Mom also bought me a copy of this wonderful book, the 8 Wonders of Kansas Guidebook. I am determined to explore Kansas more in the months (and years) ahead. (Did you know Veterans Day originated in Emporia, Kansas? Uh-huh.)

On Tuesday, Mom, Dad, and I went to chemo and my aunt and godmother joined us. Afterwards, we met my little brother for lunch and then drove home. On the way home, we stopped and Mom picked up a CD which includes her self-declared theme song, George Strait's "Here for a Good Time" (sample lyric: I ain't here for a long time; I'm here for a good time). As soon as we got home, we headed back out to take the recycling to Downs. I hit the road shortly thereafter and proceeded to spend the next 3-4 hours driving through sleet and hard, driving rain with almost no visibility. It should have been harrowing, but it wasn’t, even when I took a wrong turn and ended up on a gravel road somewhere outside of McPherson. I was tense because it was dangerous driving but I wasn’t afraid, if that makes sense. Fear is not of much use in some circumstances. In hazardous road conditions or pancreatic cancer, one really doesn’t know what lies ahead . . . only that nothing will be gained by panicking.

Chemo-bound.

2011-11-08T08:48:00.002-05:00

Going to chemo with Mom and Dad today. Yesterday was a lot of fun. These are notes to myself so I can remember everything:
* Seeing Miss Skold
* Photos of my 4th grade class
* Seeing Sr. E (my aunt)
* Seeing the mural in Concordia
* POW camp
* Sonic hamburgers for supper

To the bus driver of the M60 and the 2 women behind the IGA.

2011-11-06T23:22:00.000-05:00

I forgot to mention something: On Saturday morning, around six, I boarded the M60 bus to the airport. Pierre saw me off, carrying my duffel for me. As the bus pulled away and I paid my fare, I said, "Oh rats. I could've left my pass with Pierre." And the driver said, "Go ahead and see if you can catch your friend" and stopped the bus. So I bounced off the bus, leaving my duffel bag and backpack on the bus and shouted, "Yo, Pierre!" He was already nearly a block away but he heard me and came jogging back so I could give him my 7-day fare card.

I thought that was really nice of the driver.

Here's another ordinary act of kindness. Today, I drove to the neighboring town to pick up some stuff for Mom. I pulled into the grocery store parking lot and couldn't pull the keys out of the ignition. My Mom needed the stuff I was picking up so not running the errand was not an option. I saw these two women smoking across the parking lot and ran up to them. Would they mind watching the truck while I ran into the store? And they did. And they even tried to help me get the key unstuck.

Being home is nice.

2011-11-06T20:40:00.001-05:00

I spent an hour or so pedaling around my hometown, taking pictures and enjoying the beautiful autumn day. It is good to be home. Good to be with my parents and not have to share them with anybody else. (Yep, I am a middle child through and through!)

Prime relationship.

2011-11-03T21:12:00.003-04:00

Sociologist Barbara Katz Rothman once wrote in Recreating Motherhood that motherhood is "a, and maybe the, prime relationship, primary in the lifespan of the person being mothered, primary in establishing our understandings of what it is to be connected with another human being." I've been thinking of that a lot lately and finding it to be very true.

Next week, I have arranged for someone to take about ten of my first-year students to observe proceedings in Bronx Family Court. Proceedings where families are divided as children are separated from their mothers and -- all too infrequently -- reunited. I did something similar last year and I think it made a big impact on my students.

In a way, I'm oddly grateful that I was separated from my parents and my brothers and sisters when I was little. First, at seven or eight when my Dad had an accident and my older sister and I were sent to stay with grandparents. And again, at ten or eleven when Mom was diagnosed with cancer the first time, and my little brother and I lived with an aunt but then I got so homesick that I was allowed to return to my home but I had to leave my little brother at my aunt's, a Sophie's Choice of sorts. Because of those experiences, I've never underestimated the power of taking kids away from the people they love who love them back. This happened to me in a context where I kind of understood the necessity of it, but it was still hard. I can't imagine what it would be like to have it happen when the court is involved and the circumstances even more complicated.

Kids love their parents. And that is always a good thing.

My Mom.

2011-11-02T08:37:00.000-04:00

Mom -- who starts chemo today -- tells me she plans to stop by afterwards to visit someone who is very ill. I guess it takes more than chemo and an incurable, incredibly lethal pancreatic cancer to override 30 years of being a hospice nurse. Go, Mom, go!

(I didn't mention her diagnosis before because I didn't want people in my hometown to find out until Mom had had a chance to let them know.)

Yesterday.

2011-11-01T08:59:00.000-04:00

I am pleased with this photo. I took it yesterday morning while I was on a subway train going up to the Bronx. I had my camera in my pocket. It reflects how I was feeling at the time.

Crushed.

2011-11-01T08:22:00.000-04:00

These are as hard of weeks as any I can remember having. It is like I am being crushed under a load of boulders and people go by, tossing another pebble, another rock onto the pile. Of course, there are exceptions to this. Many people are coming through with offers to help out with various stuff I'm supposed to do. But overall, the feeling is one of being crushed "under a burden one can neither bear nor throw off." (Nietzsche, I think. One of the few things I remember from the Western Civilization course I took as an undergrad.)

I'm okay. Mostly.

"We are all going to have to be tough."

2011-11-01T08:17:00.002-04:00

This is an excerpt from a letter my Mom sent to me on my 10^th birthday back in 1975. She was in the hospital being treated for cancer in Wichita. Me and my younger brother (who was around a year old) went to stay with my aunt, uncle, and cousins.

We got your letter this morning and we were sure glad to get it. I’m glad Craig is doing fine. I know you’ll be glad to get your swimsuit – lets hope it fits. Whatever works out with Aunt M as far as you guys trading around is fine here with me. But let Aunt M decide because she is extra busy now, you know. I hope you don’t get too homesick. We are all going to have to be tough. I am homesick already, too, so we can have the miseries together. Dad is even worse – he’s wanting to be both places. Bye again. Lots of love, Mom and Dad.

Brownies.

2011-10-29T08:27:00.000-04:00

Last week, I mentioned to my students that I may miss a day or two this semester because I needed to go home. I told them a little about the situation. Today, they presented me with a pan of brownies in the shape of a heart. I won't lie, I got a little teary. And this was days after I gave them back their (graded) papers!

David H

2011-10-27T10:05:00.003-04:00

I'm not ignoring your request to contact you. I do not have a way to reach you.

Last night.

2011-10-26T21:02:00.000-04:00

Last night I had a good talk with my Mom. We talked about a lot of things. We talked about what it is like to tell people you have cancer. And how it is not so helpful when people press us to be positive or misinterpret realism and acceptance for pessimism. Someone who believes in alternative medicine recommends a coffee enema or some such thing. I told Mom I would drink a cup of coffee to her good health. We talked about the lack of "unresolved business" between us. We talked about living your days rather than simply existing from doctor's appointment to doctor's appointment.

She said, "When people ask how I am, I say 'I'm good' and that seems enough." We talked about not hiding news from people because it can help them to know. It can help us to know, too.

I was only ten when she had cancer before but I remember and learned so much from her.
I am paying attention, now, too.

This photo was taken this morning on my walk to the subway. It really did look like that.

For Dee.

2011-10-26T20:37:00.001-04:00

My friend Dee has decided to discontinue chemo. The news makes me profoundly sad. Not because I don't support her decision (because I do), but well, because.

When I was in my early twenties, my friend Nila was very ill. I used to keep her company at night; sometimes I would sleep in the next bed. I made her a mix tape (remember those?) and put this song on it. When she died, one of the nurses gave it back to me. U2 wrote this song in honor of Martin Luther King, I think. I have always liked it and found it very soothing.

Sleep, sleep tonight
And may your dreams be realised.
If the thunder cloud passes rain
So let it rain, rain down on him.
So let it be.
So let it be.

Cords.

2011-10-24T19:14:00.000-04:00

Today's occupational therapy visit was interesting. J. started the massage of my shoulder area (which is opposite of the "cancer side") and then got a concerned look on her face and summoned a supervising therapist, saying "I want her to feel something." For a few long seconds, I was sure she had found another mass. As it happens, I have "cording." Cording is typically caused by the removal of lymph nodes. My surgeon had told me that I should not expect to have lymphedema given that so few nodes were removed and I am slender. So the fact that this has appeared a few years later and on the opposite side is weird. Then again, much of the last three years has been weird, not to mention painful.

Jayzuz.

Part of the treatment is some intense massaging (which sometimes leads to the cords snapping). They coached me in how to breathe through the pain. To be honest, I was so happy they hadn't found a lump that I didn't notice any pain.

So they wheeled over a laser machine and gave me some laser treatment. I don't know what to make of all of it, really.

My home.

2011-10-22T19:35:00.001-04:00

My hometown school (well, after it joined with three other towns) scored better than 90 percent of students in 20 developed countries on math and reading tests according to the Global Report Card. This, despite 65 percent of the students being low-income ("living in poverty").

I am pretty darned proud. And only slightly surprised. But mainly, proud.

Don't you write off the Bronx. Don't you dare!

2011-10-22T19:30:00.005-04:00

To Fordham today to join at least 80 students, staff and faculty in attending the Northwest Bronx Community and Clergy Coalition public annual meeting. It was also a good excuse to hang out with my good friend (and former student from waaaay back in the day), Aileen. Afterwards, we walked back down Fordham Rd (cheering the Occupy Bronx crowd who were heading up Fordham Rd) and went to Little Italy where we enjoyed a delicious and leisurely lunch. Afterwards, Aileen dropped me off at the 2/5 train and the light was so pretty, glowing on the buildings that I took photos the whole way. I think I could learn to feel about the Bronx the way I feel about Harlem.

The Bronx is the poorest urban county in the United States. Yet it has so much heart, so many people organizing for jobs, better schools, safer housing... if it was only a matter of heart, the Bronx would be fine.

Let me be perfectly clear: Cancer is slowly destroying my life.

2011-10-22T05:48:00.002-04:00

I am not posting as much these days. That is because I'm pretty busy and also because I'm struggling. As I type this, I'm a) awake (since 3:22 am) and b) in pain. Add to the mix issues of eyesight, mojo, hot flashes, and the timesuck that is twice a week therapy for my shoulder and I'm not the happiest of campers.

I saw Dr Theo yesterday and she insisted that I take Arimidex on the grounds that my likelihood of getting cancer again is extremely high. But then I read up on the common side effects of Arimidex (joint pain, insomnia, fatigue, and weight gain), and I think I'll take my chances.

2009 was the best year of my life. 2011 is proving to be one of the hardest. And I don't see a way to make things better.

Scar massage, who knew?!

2011-10-22T04:42:00.001-04:00

Yesterday morning I went for occupational therapy for my shoulder. One of the first things the OT did was massage my old scar from surgery. She thinks that it might also be part of the problems I'm having in my shoulder (something about connective tissue). Anyway, it was the first time I got a clear "Definitely do scar massage" message from a health care professional. (Though I had done some massage on my younger sister's advice after my surgery.) Mind you, this week's MSKCC patient magazine has a column on scars and says NOTHING about the benefits of scar massage.

Basically, in my case, scar massage consists of short "rubs" vertically, horizontally, and in circles along the scar to break up the collagen that forms and can cause problems with circulation, lymph drainage, etc. down the road.

She made a lot of progress on my scar in just one session. (Aesthetically, my scars -- all six of them now -- are fine. But I had noticed that they were hardening and less mobile.)

http://www.integrative-healthcare.org/mt/archives/2007/07/six_massage_tec.html

A privilege.

2011-10-22T04:30:00.002-04:00

I'm sorry to have gone so long without posting. There has been much occupying my mind that I can't write about here, and I've been really busy.

Yesterday morning, on my way to my office, I bumped into a group of about 40 Bronx middle-schoolers on the campus. I spoke to one of the teachers and invited them to my class. So toward the end of my class, about a half dozen 7th grade girls (all Latinas, I think) appeared in time to hear the last 15 minutes of my lecture on pregnant drug-using women.

Then three of my students stuck around afterwards to answer their questions. Questions like "How old are you when you go to college?" "What's a dorm room look like?" "Do you get lost on campus?" "How many classes do you take?" and my favorite (directed at me): "Why did you decide to talk about addiction?" And another girl, in response to my observation that while most of my students start college around 18, people may start later depending on their circumstances, need to save money, their work schedule, etc. This prompts one of the girls said that her sister is studying criminal justice at college. Oh really? Which school is she attending? She studies on the computer because she has to take care of her baby.

All in all, a nice, unscripted ten or so minutes. A reminder -- like I needed one -- of my privilege. But also a privilege in the sense of earning a little trust from these seventh graders. And hopefully moving them a few more inches down the path of imagining themselves on a college campus, even a campus with not nearly enough people on it who look like them.

Occupy the Bronx.

2011-10-16T14:25:00.004-04:00

On Wednesday, a few of us at school organized a Community Organizing 101, featuring a very gifted speaker from the Northwest Bronx Community and Clergy Coalition(NBCCC, more on them later). Student participation was depressingly weak. Students on the Bronx campus (who are overwhelmingly white and middle-class, despite our location in the Bronx) are open to the idea of social action and social justice. But most of them aren't inclined to act on it. Plus, I have to de-program a lot of them who are used to doing volunteer work but are slow to recognize that charity, as I'm fond of saying, isn't even a detour to justice.**

So Saturday morning found me schlepping 45 minutes uptown to Occupy the Bronx, grumbling to myself the whole way "Why, why, why am I doing this? I doubt students are going to show up. And it's unlikely that any other faculty will put in an appearance (very few people who teach at the Bronx campus live in the Bronx, including me). This is going to take time, energy, and good humor that are already in short supply. I should've just headed straight downtown."

As it happens, by the time I arrived, about 75 people were already there, mostly people of color from the Bronx, as well as a colleague from African and African-American Studies, a Monsignor, and about a dozen students and alum, including a half dozen of "mine" and two of the first students I ever had! And thus, my day was made.

The Occupy Bronx General Assembly focused on social justice issues in the Bronx, including jobs, education, law enforcement. Community organizers and residents alike spoke passionately and powerfully about the challenges facing the Bronx. It took a bit, but people soon got the hang of the repeat and amplify method of speaking. Past members of the Black Panthers, the Young Lords Party, and the SDS were present, and recognized. After an hour or so of assembling and clarifying the plan for the afternoon, we walked (chanting as we went) the 3/4 of a mile or so to the 4 train. (In 16 years of walking up and down Fordham Road, Saturday's trek was definitely my favorite!) Passersby seemed confused, but overwhelmingly supportive when they cottoned on to what was happening; smiling, waving, joining in. Drivers honked their horns as we walked. The police presence around us was initially intimidating, but as it turned out, NYPD provided a largely non-threatening escort for us all the way to the subway. They let us enter the subway system without paying a fare (or arresting us for fare-dodging), which was cool. Once on the train, we were generally pretty quiet aside from some folks who performed spoken word poetry.

At Wall Street, we circled Zuccotti Park a couple times, chanting the standard fare ("¡El pueblo unido, jamás será vencido!" "We. Are. The 99%.") as well as letting it be known that the Bronx was in the house ("Everywhere we go/people wanna know/who we are/so we tell them/we are the Bronx/the mighty, mighty Bronx...." but also "What do we want? A World Series... When do we want it? Now." This might sound silly but honest to God, when you are from a place that is often relegated to the margins or unfairly dismissed as a "burnt out slum", sometimes just owning who you are is a powerful form of protest.)

Somewhere during the course of the afternoon, I introduced myself to one of my heroes, Jeremy Glick, who was hanging out in the crowd. Jeremy faced down Bill O'Reilly on the O'Reilly Factor. I recognized Jeremy because I show the clip of his appearance to my students as a way of pressing home the point that ordinary people can hold their ground, even in the face of incredible intimidation, and to great effect. I connected someone who works at Bronx Defenders with a pair of public school teachers looking for someone to teach their students about their rights and how to respond if they are arrested (as part of everyday life, not the protests), and ran into one of my favorite repro justice activists.

Occupy Bronx held another General Assembly shortly after arriving but now, women were much more visible. (There was a bit of good-natured confusion as members of our Assembly realized that our Bronx symbol of crossing our bent arms in front of us also stands for "block" the proposed measure!) We invited everyone to join us for a procession to the African Burial Ground a few blocks away. A couple hundred people joined us and -- led and organized by about a half dozen African, Caribbean, and African-American women, we headed to the grounds, falling silent about 2 blocks from the burial site as a way of showing respect and an opportunity for reflection and then processing through the memorial. The walk ended with a ritual pouring of water to honor ancestors. It was all very powerful stuff.

Next steps? Back uptown, my colleagues in the Dorothy Day Center for Service and Justice and I are recruiting 70-100 Fordham faculty, staff, students, and alum to attend the Northwest Bronx Community and Clergy Coalition (NBCCC) annual public meeting next Saturday. Fordham has a lot of students in the Bronx (we rank sixth in the country of universities performing community service), but not a lot of Bronx in our students. We are seeking to change that by encouraging their presence at this meeting. More generally, the public meeting is designed to rally community members around issues pertaining to housing, education, and economic justice (the living wage campaign) and to provide a means of holding elected officials accountable to the promises they make. In the weeks following the meeting, we will sponsor additional trainings on community organizing hoping that the students will be more inclined to attend now that they have witnessed the power of collective action.

Because all being said and done, that is part of the challenge, yeah?

To Occupy our communities wherever we are, every single day.

** One of my grad students told me this once. I wish I could claim it as my own, but it's not!

Again.

2011-10-15T03:38:00.001-04:00

Two people dear to me are dealing with cancer again. One person's "original" cancer has metastasized to her sternum. A second person has a new cancer, this one being pancreatic.

Watching the news unfold in both instances makes me think that being diagnosed with cancer again is like being kicked in the head over a two week period. ("But wait! There's more!" WHOMP). As for the prospect of facing chemo... I, for one, got through chemo in part by thinking "If this works, I will n

PUBLISH POST

ot have to do this again for a long time, if ever." But no.

Twice a week occupational therapy.

2011-10-13T17:09:00.000-04:00

I do not have time for this. I really do not have time for this right now.

Cura personalis

2011-10-11T22:26:00.001-04:00

An exhausting but ultimately wonderful day. Culminating in a $10 ticket to the Metropolitan Opera ("Barber of Seville") and meeting an incredible transgender student who said "People tell me I should know you" and having this very powerful conversation with him. It blew me away. It's not like I ever think, "I don't care about my students" but a conversation with a student like him affirms why it is so important to put our students' well-being at the center of the work we do.

He said so much that gave me pause. Powerful.

Bought a bike.

2011-10-11T09:49:00.001-04:00

From a friend's friend's transgendered neighbor whose brother used to build bikes but has since died. I'm pretty sure that bike had Pierre's and my name on it.

The Scientist.

2011-10-11T09:34:00.000-04:00

I have always liked this song.

I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling the puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart.

Nobody said it would be easy.
Nobody said it would be this hard.

The vida Leona.

2011-10-10T08:50:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was a fabulous day. Pierre and I rented books and rode all the way around Central Park (in a flash!) and then all the way down to 50th Street or so along the Hudson. Afterwards, we went grocery shopping, then I went downtown to meet three girlfriends for a drink. I came back and ate salmon croquettes that Pierre had made. A thoroughly good day.

I felt like I lived very purposefully yesterday. The getting up and taking charge of the day reminded me a lot of Mom, as did the bike riding. Doing fun stuff (e.g., biking, going fishing, making play dough, impromptu picnics, playing board games) are very Leona things to do. That, and trying to be useful to people when they are in a hard place.

New Hampshire.

2011-10-10T08:45:00.000-04:00

Pierre and I went to NH for September 11th. It was magical and I've mentally returned there a lot in recent weeks.

It is hard.

2011-10-09T10:37:00.002-04:00

So Mom's diagnosis of pancreatic cancer was confirmed on Friday. There is still much we don't know about treatment. I have had some miscellaneous MSKCC appointments. Absolutely nothing serious. But it is very hard to take the subway and a bus to Sloan and get treated so well at every turn and know that things are much harder in Kansas, logistically, diagnostically, and prognostically. It is very hard.

I cry because I'm so fortunate. I cry because I'm grateful that I had such an excellent Mom. I cry because I will miss her. I cry because I have been fearing the day that my mom dies ever since that afternoon she came home and told everybody that the lump was malignant (and Elaine and I looked it up in the dictionary and learned, helpfully, that it meant "not benign"). I was so afraid Mom would die and that nobody would tell me. I knew, as kids do, that it was more serious than the grown-ups were letting on. I remember being at a summer bible camp and these people laying their hands on me in an attempt to cure Mom. I remember that really freaking me out but letting them do it just in case it would work. And I remember one day running down the gravel driveway for the bus and tripping and falling so hard that it knocked the lens out of my glasses. But when I got up, I had this sense that "Mom is going to be okay." And after that, I was confident that she would live.

MRI, then Occupy Wall Street.

2011-10-09T10:07:00.004-04:00

I had an MRI yesterday on my neck. I realized a little late in the game that I did not want to spend my Saturday afternoon at a cancer center in an MRI tube. I even had one of my very few moments of "I do not want to do this; I really really hate having to do this" and called my little sister in Alaska. She was very helpful. All I needed was someone to say "I can see why you don't want to do this." The MRI was okay. Uncomfortable, but okay. There was a delay and while I waited, I found a new coffee machine and a computer. The waiting room of the intensive care unit on the 11th floor at 1275 York -- down the hallway and through a secret door from the MRI unit -- has computers as well as this coffee machine with 16 coffee options. It is all appreciated, but a bit much.) Then I went down to Washington Square Park to see if anything was happening (Occupy Wall Street had temporarily opened a "branch", if you will, at WSP). I hung out there and listened to some guitarists and met a friend.

One of the songs they played was Grateful Dead's "I Know You, Rider."

I'm just saying'.

2011-10-08T05:58:00.000-04:00

The combination of having insomnia and learning that someone close to you has a very lethal cancer leaves something to be desired.

Love, love, love, love, crazy love.

2011-10-05T05:56:00.001-04:00

This song makes me think of growing up when Mom would work a night shift at the hospital (she is a nurse). A couple times, I would wake up when she got home at 2 or 4 in the morning and we would have a conversation in the kitchen (and maybe some bread with cinnamon and sugar) before she would send me back to bed. There is a time when I must not have been more than 3 or 4 because I left her a long note on the "list machine" we had spelling out all the injustices that had been wrought upon me in her absence that evening. I remember there were a lot of Is and Os and possibly an M because those were the only letters I knew and she asked me to read it to her because, she said, she was too tired to read it herself.

Mom in her nursing "costume" (as I thought of it, not knowing the word "uniform"). White dress, the pin, white stockings and shoes, the starched cap, red lipstick. No mom but no mom was more glamorous.

Some small things.

2011-10-05T05:48:00.001-04:00

I went to MSKCC the other day, about my shoulder.** The offices are on two floors of a building otherwise occupied by financial offices (my photo was taken on the way in, weird). Shortly after I arrived, there was a fire drill and we were ordered to assemble by the elevators. As we waited, there were a couple people with walkers and canes who had a hard time walking but yet they had that "roll with it" humor that people who have (had) cancer tend to have. But after only one minute into the experience, a nurse came out and approached the fire inspector and pleasantly but pointedly said, "I'm sorry, I cannot let you do this to our patients. I will instruct all staff to pay attention to everything you say and follow your instructions but our patients need to be excused." So he did. A small thing that is a big thing.

Yesterday was school. I have been going to this funky student-run coffeehouse an hour or so before class. I was trying to get my head and my notes together when a guy student sat down at the piano and started to play. It was really beautiful. What I needed.

** I really did not "get" why I had to go to MSKCC for this, why an ordinary (closer) PT wouldn't do. As it happens, my frozen shoulder is very tightly frozen and appears to be shredding a tendon, and possibly a nerve. The doctor did an ultrasound and as he looked at it, he said, "Are you on estrogen blockers?" And then I told him I'd been on Tamoxifen and recently had my ovaries removed. Apparently, estrogen helps deal with inflammation. Who knew, right?

"Just to dig it all and not question..."

2011-10-02T11:07:00.002-04:00

(Listen to this song. You might still feel sad, but you will feel better.)

And we will walk and talk in gardens all misty wet with rain
And I will never, ever grow so old again.
Oh sweet thing, oh, oh,
Oh my, my, my, my, my
Sweet thing, sweet thing

And I will raise my hand up into the midnight sky
And count all the lights that shining in your eye
Just to dig it all and not to question well that's just fine
Just to dig it all and never wonder well that’s just fine
And I'll be satisfied not to read between the lines

Joy and sorrow.

2011-10-02T08:40:00.002-04:00

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Khahil Gibran.

Hope.

2011-10-01T23:52:00.003-04:00

There is something particularly cruel about this situation. It is one thing to know that someone has cancer. And another thing to know that someone is going to die. But the knowledge that someone is definitely going to die, that there is no cure and -- in the case of this particular, exceedingly lethal cancer -- there really is no good treatment well, it is not just the facts that hurt but the complete stripping away of any hope of anything other than (look at me, I cannot give up on the idea that there is something to be hoped for and it comes to me just now as I type this) anything other than hope for a good death or, if failing that, hope for a death and dying that is completely tortured.

Yes, that is what I will focus on. How these next months can be as close to a good death (i.e., one that she is prepared for, can face without fear, with as much comfort and as little pain as possible).

Things are pretty grim.

2011-10-01T21:50:00.002-04:00

I would write about them but I can't.

Bx12

2011-09-28T00:05:00.002-04:00

I shared a Bx12 and a 1 train home with two first-year students from West Harlem. Sweet 18 year-old guys, navigating their way through this elite college experience with the kind of resourcefulness and wry, funny perspective that is a defining characteristic of native-born New Yorkers. I think my parents have a lot of native-born New York in them, to be honest. Even though they are lifelong farmers.

Why "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" needed to go away.

2011-09-24T15:11:00.000-04:00

i

I had advising appointments with students. One of them, an 18-year-old gay man, mentioned that he was interested in writing a research paper on gays and lesbians in the Midwest. I said, "Oh, did you see the article on the front page of today's paper about the Marine Corps recruiting office in Oklahoma that has started to recruit gay and lesbians to serve?" He said, "No, I didn't" so I pulled the paper out of my backpack and showed it to him. He looked at it and then looked up at me, with tears in his eyes. And I said (with tears in mine), "I know, it's great isn't it?" and he nodded.

On the bright side . . .

2011-09-20T07:45:00.001-04:00

Pierre and I bought an antenna so I can now get PBS. So when I wake up at 2am I can watch PBS programming about the brain. I am still grateful to PBS, not only for its excellent programming but for that show it aired on stem cell research almost 4 years ago which reminded me that I hadn't done a self-exam in awhile and is the reason I found the lump. At 2 am, of course.

Yesterday's talk went fine. I was really moved by the introductions and the response. And the fact that one of my former students came to it, as did Pierre.

I am tired as hell. I have a lot on my plate. But I have a friend undergoing surgery tomorrow for a metastasis to her sternum. And another friend has recently learned that cancer has spread not only to her brain, but to her uterus and her cervix.

I have promised Pierre I will not take on additional commitments beyond what I have on my plate now. The big ones include:

teaching (one course now, three in the spring including a course at the LC campus and a new course on justice and ethics)
doing the analysis for NAPW
co-directing Women's Studies
figuring out a way to bring Dirty Paki Lingerie to campus
helping launch a fantastic book about public defense work in the context of family court
a series of lectures and documentary viewings this semester
finishing a book chapter
chairing the Social Action Committee
doing the analysis for NAPW
serving on the Faculty Senate
serving on TRAC

Must to work. Must to work.

I got your message right here.

2011-09-15T18:21:00.001-04:00

I am meant to give a 45-minute inspirational speech on Monday to a group of social workers who I really admire. I was feeling potentially inspirational a couple months ago when I agreed to give this. But now I am just feeling stupid, tired, and in dire need of a haircut.

As for message, I don't think "Don't be me" or "I was forced into surgical menopause and now my health is a shambles" will cut it.

*sigh*

A good friend in a similar situation has suggested we write "F*ck Fear" on our forearms and do the best we can. I think that's an excellent idea. Provided I remember to wear a long-sleeved shirt.

New Hampshire. And now home.

2011-09-13T21:45:00.000-04:00

I had a wonderful "one for the books" weekend in New Hampshire w/ Pierre, visiting my friends Ri and Rich. Just beautiful. Everything one could want in a weekend. Nature. Kayaking. Speedboat. Hike. Good food. Good company.

And then I returned to an incredible suckfest.
I am so angry about everything.
This semester got off to a rotten start and it just keeps going.
Tonight's extra kick in the head courtesy of someone pulling the emergency brake on "my" homebound subway. We were told that we would be delayed while somebody checked under each of the subway cars and that this was very dangerous as the person risked being electrocuted by the third rail or hit by a passing train. Given how this day has gone, it was all I could do not to volunteer.

It's all too much.

9/9.

2011-09-09T04:03:00.001-04:00

Pierre saw the towers fall. We are leaving town this weekend and going to stay with friends at their home in New Hampshire which is in the woods and by a lake. I look forward to the drive and just being away. Pierre is happy to be leaving, too. I feel a little like we are being driven from this city. I have managed to avoid all images from that time to date (including the days immediately after 9/11) and now every time we turn on the television to catch the weather or a bit of news there it is, the planes crashing, the wreckage.

So we're not turning on the television. We're ordering sushi or mofongo or calamari and we're sitting cross-legged eating and talking. We're practicing guitar (him) or flipping through a beautiful book on evolution (me).

There have been a lot of sirens tonight. The steady drumbeat of 9/11 9/11 9/11 is doing a number on the nerves. It is all too much, too soon. I won't be prepared to grasp the enormity of 9/11 and its aftermath for at least another fifty years or so.

I ♥ NYC.

2011-09-04T20:35:00.000-04:00

NYC, I fell in love with you all over again today. From giving me a free large pinkberry out of nowhere, to one of my first students sharing his birthday celebration with me, to a friend of a friend giving away a painting to someone they do not even know, to LIRR workers telling someone using crutches the track number for her train before it was announced, heightened security be damned. I ♥ NYC. I ♥ NYC. I ♥ NYC.

Funny guy.

2011-09-04T08:54:00.002-04:00

Pierre does not come across as a funny guy (he doesn't laugh a lot and is pretty serious). But in reality, he peppers conversations with things that are hysterically funny. Yesterday, for instance, I combed my hair and put on a little lip gloss before meeting Pierre. He greeted me with, "Wow, You look so...groomed!"

Or last night. I love PBS. My TV hasn't received Ch13 in ages. This makes me crazy. Last night, for the first time in months, Ch13 started to tune in and out. I crouched over the television and desperately made adjustments. Pierre was typing on his computer, but at one point offered, deadpan: "I think when one of my hands is on your *ss and the other is on my computer, you get better reception." And for a second -- I was so desperate to watch PBS -- I BELIEVED HIM.

He rarely "gets" me but when he does, he gets me good. (Though not as good as when I convinced him that Kansas jackalopes exist and are the size of a small car. I am 3 for 3 in getting boyfriends to believe that.)

Biking NYC.

2011-09-03T18:55:00.000-04:00

Today, I did something I have wanted to do for a long, long time. I got a bike. Pierre borrowed a bike. And we set out and biked down the paved bike lane along the Hudson River all the way to 20th Street and then back up to 135th Street and then home. About eleven miles at a pretty good clip. Only a handful of women (max) passed me. We stopped and had a sandwich and took in the scenery.

It was glorious.

DEATHDEATHDEATHDEATH.

2011-09-03T08:26:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I taught my first class (student question: "Prof., are you French?"). I also had an MRI. I was so tired, I slept through nearly all of it. Though I woke up at one point because I swear it was "resonating": DEATHDEATHDEATHDEATHDEATHDEATH. I needed that nap so badly. Got home around 8 pm. Pierre and I attempted to watch this completely overrated Japanese anime (my first, and possibly last, attempt at watching anime), Spirited Away. It had some amazing scenes, but not enough to sustain our interest. But we enjoyed feasting on sushi.

I need a watch.

2011-08-31T23:31:00.000-04:00

I need to finish my syllabus. I need a watch. I need to clean my apartment. I need a good night's sleep. I need a new computer. I need my work computer to arrive. Not sure how it's all going to get done. But it will.

Peace.

2011-08-30T21:16:00.000-04:00

"Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart."

A former student and I exchanged emails tonight and she included this quote. She has suffered from serious depression but is doing okay. Still not out of the woods, but okay. All my students are special to me but some really get under my skin and stay there.

My friend Fury weighs in on "evacuation."

2011-08-28T10:09:00.002-04:00

My friend Fury observes: "Let's not forget that when buildings 'evacuate,' they are emptied. When people 'evacuate,' it means they sh*t themselves. 'We evacuated' = 'We shit ourselves.' The hilarity of that word's misuse is never ending."**

I agree with Fury. We must not let a natural disaster cause us to lose our respect for word choice and usage. But if the 10-story scaffolding down the block from me gets blown down, you can bet I will evacuate.

** Some would say that the use of the term has evolved over time to encompass people leaving a location as part of an organized effort to escape harm. But I confess, I'm a bit curmudgeonly on the subject of word usage. I still don't like it when "impact" is used as a verb or "forte" (to refer to a strong point or special ability) is pronounced "for-tay".

Hurricane morning, with pancakes.

2011-08-28T10:03:00.000-04:00

My hurricane prep was pretty minimal and took bout 15 minutes. I got home too late on Friday to buy D batteries for my flashlight. Besides, I didn't feel like dealing with the lines. Instead, I filled a 5-gallon bottle with water for drinking and another bucket for non-drinking purposes. I charged my weather radio (it also has a hand crank). I located matches and candles and even found some batteries for the flashlight. I did laundry. I found the phone that doesn't need electricity. I figured I had enough food on hand and besides, it wouldn't hurt me to be a little hungry for a few days. Fifteen minutes later, I was done.

This morning, I decided to make pancakes. I am running a little low on milk and cannot drink coffee without it. O I set out and discovered that Westside Market is closed (first time I have seen that in 16 years). Rite-Aid was open, but didn't have milk. So I went to my local Arab-run bodega. They were open for business and had tons of milk. I came home and made a breakfast of pancakes and sausage.

Hurricane.

2011-08-27T05:49:00.001-04:00

I'm fine. I'm supremely irritated by anyone panicking or anxious who has no reason for panicking or feeling anxious. Mostly, I'm just tired.

What's a little terrorism and pastry among friends?

2011-08-24T19:34:00.000-04:00

The night of 9/11, Ed and I stayed on campus at the apartment of Fr. Gerry, the campus minister at the time. (One college coed -- one of my students, actually -- knocked on Gerry's door late that night. I answered the door, wearing a pair of Gerry's sweats. The poor student was so shook up by the sight of her professor wearing her priest's pajamas that she bolted down the hallway.) Gerry has recently been called to serve in Rome so Ed convened the three of us for lunch at Landmarc restaurant at Columbus Circle. Ed has a connection at Landmarc restaurants. You may recall back in 2008 when Ed treated me to a wonderful dining experience of steak, mussels and pastry before I lost my tastebuds to chemo. Today's lunch was similarly wonderful. As were the pastries. (Cherry cotton candy!!) And, of course, the company.

In Our Son's Name

2011-08-24T07:20:00.000-04:00

The day before yesterday, I saw my colleague. We were together at work on 9/11. His son was killed. A documentary, "In Our Son's Name," was made about him and his wife Phyllis and how they responded by calling for peace and reconciliation. An excerpt from the film will debut at Fordham's Bronx campus on September 7th from noon - 2 pm in Keating 3rd floor auditorium. A clip of it can be seen here.

From the filmmaker, Gayle Jamison's website: "A half-hour version of In Our Son’s Name will air on Al Jazeera’s English language channel September 6 – 11, in commemoration of the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attack. The film will be part of the acclaimed series, "Witness". The film’s message of reconciliation in the aftermath of violence will reach viewers in the Middle East, North Africa, the United Kingdom, Canada and Australia. Viewers in the US may view the film in the New York City area on Time Warner Cable Channel 92, and in Washington, DC, on Comcast Channel 275, Cox Channel 474 and Verizon FIOS Channel 457. In other parts of the country, look for the "Witness" series streaming on http://english.aljazeera.net/."

Anyway, I'm doing a lot of the logistics for the event. I wasn't expecting to but I'm happy to do something because he is my friend. I still remember that moment when he said, "How many buildings are there? I think my son works down there..."

Un-seeing.

2011-08-24T07:05:00.000-04:00

Yesterday a friend talks for 4 straight minutes about what he saw on 9/11. Bringing the sum total of conversations we've had about it in the past ten years to about seven. I wish I could make him un-see it. I wish I could make the planes un-crash, the buildings un-fall, the people un-die, the wars un-fought. Hmmmm. One of those things we actually do something about.

* * * * * *
I didn't really notice the earthquake yesterday. I vaguely remember noticing something but assumed it was a combination of construction noise outside and low blood sugar.

Keepin' the love alive.

2011-08-21T10:04:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, I was channel surfing and caught a commercial for Fiber One, which led to the following exchange.

Me: Pierre? In the nine years that we have known each other, have either of us ever raised the issue of our fiber consumption?
Pierre (a note of concern in his voice): Uh, nooooo...
Me: Good.

This week marks nine years of Pierre and I knowing each other. I think the fact that we are still pretty much crazy about each other can be attributed to the fact that we have never discussed our fiber intake.

* * * * * * * * * *
While Pierre and I do have much in common, on other fronts, we are polar opposites. Many of the things I love most (e.g., parks, nature, being friendly, concern for people I do not know), he absolutely despises. And vice versa. For instance, I don't watch much television so when I do, I get excited by small things, like this commercial for Audi. When I first saw it, I said, "Wow! I love this commercial! It's original! It's absurd!" In true Perre fashion, he tells me more than a week later that, as I was waxing poetic about this ad, he was thinking to himself, "Did I tell her about this commercial before and how much I hate it? Did she forget this? Or did she remember and not care? Or did I never say anything and this is simply another one of those things I do not understand about her..."

Having said that, I saw him feed a little sparrow some banana bread crumbs this morning and razzed him a little for it. (As I type those words, I can hear him say "Razzing? Really?" in the same tone he uses when I say "underpants" or that time I called a guy on a bike, "Bozo.") You're not such a Billy Bad-Ass, Pierre. You are, (as you like to call me), a bit of a corndog yourself.

The case for immaturity.

2011-08-20T16:23:00.003-04:00

So yesterday, Pierre and I went to the movies, a rare treat for us. We chose our seats to ensure we wouldn't have anyone in front of us because I, for one, love to sit with my feet on the back of the seat in front of me. As I sat there looking at my feet, I took a moment to wonder if I am immature or if other people who are 46 are simply afraid to live like they feel. This is not to be confused with "a child-like ingenue." Rather, it is immaturity of the sort that most people grow out of. Here are 24 cases in point.

I love movie previews. Previews for good movies, bad movies, I love them all. Just like I like the bonus materials on DVDs. It is like the adult form of the prize in the cereal box (do they do this anymore?).
I love ordering take-out and eating it on my bed by the light of the lamp.
I love my Converse All-Star sneakers.
I love not combing my hair.
I love wearing the same tee-shirt for days on end.
I love looking for crayfish in streams.
I love playing the same song over and over.
I love food trucks and eating food purchased from said food trucks on a parkbench on a median.
I love cheap ice cream cones (also bought from a truck) and dipped in chocolate.
I love meals consisting of a big bowl of chopped tomatoes with olive oil and pepper.
I love popping popcorn and watching a movie.
I will eat V&T's hamburger and fries four out of seven days of the week.
I love striped knee socks.
I love making up songs on the fly.
I love drawing cartoon pigs.
I love my $7 cowboy hat that I bought at a truck stop in ... I think it was Nevada.
I secretly love this one conditioner because it smells like grape soda.
When I get cold, I build up layers of clothing, but not a logical "camisole-shirt-sweater-jacket" but rather "tshirt-another tshirt-sweatshirt-overshirt-scarf-hat-big sweater."
I still create movies starring yours truly in my head, especially when I am bored (e.g., sitting in a meeting I imagine what I would do if someone whipped out a knife and took a hostage).
I love a good dollar store.
I love finding seashells.
I love to give people nicknames when we play card games. (I think I got that from my friend Greg.)
I love making playdough out of flour and salt.
I love some truly juvenile music a la "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" by the Flaming Lips.

I can be serious, I can be serious as a heart attack. I pay my bills. I wear a mantle of an incredible array of responsibilities if not lightly, at least consistently. But when I'm not being ridiculously responsible, I do love being immature. Perhaps that is why I am finding it difficult to embrace menopause as I feel I ought.

Though I am getting there. I saw this woman, white-haired and definitely old in the park the other day. What I noticed about her was that she was speaking with much animation and moving her hands in wonderfully expressive ways. I thought, "I want to grow old like her."

Apes and a downpour.

2011-08-20T09:16:00.001-04:00

Pierre came over yesterday and we had a Serious Talk. We hadn't spoken in awhile, by mutual -- and silent -- agreement. So we both had a lot to say. Afterwards, we decided to walk down to 84th and see "Planet of the Apes." It was a spectacularly bad movie. Pierre kept pointing out inconsistencies and implausibilities ("Aren't these people supposed to be scientists? How do they get away with x and y?") while I was like, "Pierre, it's a movie about apes that take over the world; how much realism can you expect?" But I am completely with him. The movie was bad on so many levels. And not good-bad. Bad-bad.

We came out of the theater around 7:30 and it was already dark. Plus, the sky looked quite ominous. We cancelled our plans to go to Trader Joe's and do a grocery shop and hopped on the subway. We came above ground at 110th to find it raining like I have never seen it rain before (except possibly one time in Olinda, Brazil and another time with Ed). Sheets and sheets of rain. We made a run for it and were instantly soaked. Our Converse All-Stars were soaked and filled with water immediately. I was laughing so hard, I couldn't even run properly.

We got home, dried off and continued our Serious Talk just long enough to conclude that we both need to lighten up.

Schizophrenia metaphor.

2011-08-20T08:32:00.001-04:00

The title of this post sounds like the name of a band. But I really want to put this down here, even though it may be a red hot disorganized mess. Please bear with me.

The other night, I was talking to Ev and Greta about these two major transformative process: cancer and drug addiction. When one is going through chemo or rehab, one expects it to be hard. But the treatment is "The Thing." Then afterwards, there is this adjustment, this phase of "Now I have finished treatment. What am I like now? Who am I?" There's a relief, even an elation as one rejoins life and living. But then, afterwards, there is this slow, dawning realization that... "Wait a second. What the hell have I been through? And how do I deal with the lifelong risk and fear of relapse? How do I life fully and deeply and expansively while at the same time having to be vigilant, and careful? How do I manage seeming/being 'okay' but being so completely different from people around me?"

And, in the case of life after addiction and cancer diagnosis, one must face all of these questions... sober. One must manage the anxiety and fear, without taking a drink or getting smashed. One must come to grips with this without reverting to the behaviors that created the problem to begin with.

Blah blah blah. So, my friend Ev used to work in mental hospitals. She said something so interesting. She said that the schizophrenia patients often were hospitalized with delusions of grandeur, i.e., "I am Jesus!" "I am a Princess!" "I have special powers!" "God communicates with me through the fillings in my molars." If a person is successfully treated for schizophrenia, they often initially experience relief that they are no longer plagued by, say, lots of voices or being thrown out of the grocery store for making a scene. But then, two other things follow. One is the realization that, "Wait a minute. Does this mean I am really not anything special? I'm not only not royalty or the Saviour? I'm just an ordinary person, or worse yet, a person with mental illness." The other is the realization that "Oh man. And I must have looked like such an idiot, all those years of wearing a tinfoil hat or roaming the upper west side in a blanket and a cowboy hat... How can I face the world again? I'm so embarrassed."

* * * * * * * *
At the moment, what I am going with is that all of these experiences give us the potential for greater empathy. They provide us with the opportunity -- if we want it -- to feel connected with more people, to become (even) more human. Yeah, that's what I'm going with.

Cancercancercancerjazzcancercancercancer.

2011-08-19T01:53:00.002-04:00

It has been a hard few days. A friend is making her way through whole brain radiation which sounds really, really hard. Another friend's best friend got breast cancer again, a new primary it seems. Another friend's friend is recently diagnosed. On the spur of the moment, two girlfriends and I went to Morningside and had a picnic with Amish yoghurt cheese that Ev brought back from Ohio, and cherries, oysters, and wine that I picked up. We listened to jazz and talked as girlfriends do as bats flew around the park in a non-scary way. I walked Ev to the 4 train and got home a little before midnight. Then I learned that one of my friends...one of my friends diagnosed at the same time as me...I learned that a PET scan suggests that the cancer that she had... that we all had... that we all hope and try to assume has gone away forever seems to have metastacized to her sternum. So I stay up an extra two hours trying to understand what FDG-avid and SUV 9.7 means. And hoping that maybe my friend didn't fast before her PET or maybe she exercised a lot or drank coffee or had a glass of wine before the scan or perhaps it is just a fluke because she was once hit with a canoe in her chest that time, after all and besides 15 percent of positive PET scan results are wrong, right?

This is why I think about cancer every day because you cannot let go of the idea that it might come back or that it never really went away because you must have a piece of you ready in case you are told you have an "FDG-avid lesion with a maximum measured SUV of 9.7."

I also know that mets is not the end of the world. It is not even the beginning of the end. But as my friend Dana used to say (may she rest in peace), "It ain't ice cream, either."

The path taken.

2011-08-15T19:19:00.000-04:00

I set out this morning to buy some milk so I could have coffee and detoured through Central Park. We have had heavy rains lately so everything was green and lush, the streams were running and there was moss and lichens and fungi galore! I had the best time wandering around. Did my spirits good.

Life is a beach.

2011-08-14T22:12:00.000-04:00

I have been struggling a bit. The last 3-4 nights, I have woken up at around 3 and remained awake until 7:30 or 8pm. I try not to fight it but it does a number on one's nerves and mood. Part of the problem is my shoulder and part of it is probably related to the @(*& surgery. I need to replace my computer. And prep my fall class. And write a speech.

Yesterday I went to the beach with Greta and her daughter Nayeli. I have known Nayeli since she was just an idea. She is now 14. It was a great day. All the things that a day at the beach should be. Relaxing, fun, easy. We played in the water. We lounged on the sand. I saw shells and jellyfish. I took a few photos. It was a much-needed good time.

Today, I woke up from another not-great night's sleep. I felt wasted. Finally managed to muster some energy by 4 pm and have worked for a couple hours. It has rained and rained and rained. I honestly don't mind. It sounds like a soaking rain.

There is other stuff, but nothing I want to say here. I feel a bit like the bird in this photo, to be honest. "You gotta problem with that?"

Remembering.

2011-08-11T04:04:00.001-04:00

Today at MSKCC, a woman came up to me and said, "Do you remember me?" Then she gave me a big hug and reminded me that I talked to her before her first chemo. (Her oncologist asked my oncologist for some advice because they were afraid she was not registering what she was in for so my oncologist asked me to speak to her. I did remember her. I asked her what was weighing on her mind the most and she told me that she had two little kids and the youngest one was only a baby and how was she going to manage.) She said she was scared at the time but that after we spoke, she was sure she could handle it.

I held it together while we spoke, but after she left, I found it hard not to cry. It took me back to that time. I have thought about her a lot over the last three years. Cancer and chemo were really, really hard. I only feel like I can admit that to myself now. If I had admitted it then, I'm not sure I could have handled it.

Dr. Theo is switching me to a new drug. Arimidex. I won't start it for another month because she says it often causes joint pain and she wants my shoulder to heal a bit more before we start it.

Game night was a resounding success. We wrapped up around 3:40am. I love my friends. They are my life, really.

This day is ON.

2011-08-10T07:31:00.000-04:00

Today, I go to National Advocates for Pregnant Women, then to Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (routine check-up; one of four with Dr. Theo and one of 8? 10? I have every year) and then it is home to host an old-fashioned, sittin' on the floor eatin' pizza Game Night. Can't wait.