So Tired....

Running around doing alot in Durham today and going to visit my fathers body. I am tired and will have to post my debrief from the lung cancer advocacy summit at a later time. I tried to visit Bo/Christi on last night but I missed them and walked right on back to where the patients are kept (the door was open and I don't know the Duke protocol, oh yea where is the security??? floor 9 with the Kennedy's).

Podless, Pepper, pre-dinosaur program

In a few hours, we will be off to Mayo for my six-month checkup with Dr. H. People seem a little alarmed at first when I tell them we're going to Mayo, but this is just a checkup. We like to sit down at talk with Dr. H at least once every six months. Now that I know Spike is headed back down (or at least stable), it shouldn't be too scary. We're taking WCK with us this time, and Jay's parents will meet us in Rochester to look after her while Jay and I are at the appointment. All I need is a blood draw this time: NO PEE POD! Woo hoo! I never got one in the mail, anyway, and it's not listed on my schedule. If it was a clerical error, I'm not going to correct it.

On the way to Rochester, we'll stop at my sister's house for a visit. I've been informed that we'll be attending a surprise birthday party for Pepper. Who is Pepper?

Pepper:



Is it wise to throw a surprise party for someone who usually reacts to surprises by peeing on the rug? I'm not sure, but it's not my rug. My sister loves to plan dangerous surprise parties. A couple of years ago, she planned a huge surprise party for our mom, who has a history of heart problems. Some people questioned the wisdom of jumping out and screaming "Surprise!" at a cardiac patient, but the party was a huge success and it did not kill Mom.

In other news, WCK still talks nonstop about Neighbor Boy, but he seems to have lost interest in her. Apparently, her playhouse (now home to a thriving daddy-long-leg colony) is no longer a big attraction for him, so he doesn't pay a whole lot of attention to WCK. We sit in the playhouse every afternoon, fighting off daddy long legs and watching him bounce on his backyard trampoline, oblivious. I imagine this situation is going to reverse itself when she is 18 and stunningly beautiful and can't spare a minute for him. Of course, at the rate we are going, she will still not be potty trained at age 18, but that will only add to her mystique.

I imagine Neighbor Boy throwing rocks at our windows, screaming like Marlon Brando in Streetcar on our lawn. In this fantasy, he is still wearing his Spider-Man outfit and bike helmet.

"Listen, Neighbor Boy," I'll say, as the rocks whiz past, "you should have come over to play Duck, Duck, Goose more often when she was three. Right now she is busy packing her things for Harvard."

Neighbor Boy will curl up in the fetal position on the lawn. Jay will need to mow around him, or at least instruct the housekeeping robots to mow around him. This is the future, after all.

And she doesn't have to go to Harvard, but WCK repeatedly tells me that she wants to be a dinosaur when she grows up. I imagine Harvard must have an excellent pre-dinosaur program.

Art vs. Mammon

The other day I stopped in at B & S's house and brought in the mail. B asked me to open the plastic wrapper that Poetry magazine had come in. Before I handed it to him I looked on the back for the authors this month and read off names I recognized. B took it and read off more names. He's a poet, so of course he'd know more of his ilk. He said, You gave up journalism for Art. Which was a nice way of saying things and isn't entirely true. It wasn't a conscious decision. I can be slow to realize what the common wisdom is--about anything. I didn't realize for years that many people think of fiction as Art, and journalism as Lesser Non-Art. For undergrad I went to J-school, and then to Famous Creative Writing School, where I'd questioned the purpose of Art when Reagan had his finger on the button and the budget. I would travel to Des Moines and Milwaukee and DC and New York City to protest nuclear proliferation and draft registration. I thought journalism was the highest and best you could aspire to because it Did Something, especially investigative journalism, which, by the way, I wasn't doing. I was writing features. But some of them had a socially-useful aspect. OK, some of them.

A friend of mine, N, taught a course on journalism that changed society, using books as texts. When student complained to her and her boss that N had assigned too much reading, she didn't back down. She decided the next year to add more required reading. She's tenured.

In graduate school I discovered radical philosophers on art and society and almost created an independent study for myself on political novels. I don't remember why I didn't follow through. When I worked for the major newspaper after grad school, someone in the newsroom said as if it were an acknowledged fact, that the novel was the real writing, not journalism, and I was mystified. I may still be. While at the same time, when I heard a major historian talk about the numbers of men who become cold mass killers in certain situations, I thought about William Carlos Williams' short story, "The Use of Force," which shows that the most humanitarian intentions can lead to violence and corrode the soul.

book review*: escape from amsterdam

Escape from Amsterdam, by Barrie Sherwood was a quick, fun and compelling read. And, for a first time novelist, the guy can write.

Any writer who can throw in a reference to reading War and Peace, at the end of a violent scuffle (in this case, to illustrate the length of time spent waiting for the elevator to escape said scuffle) has earned my admiration and caught my interest.

The novel is the story of Aozora, a cynical, bitter university student who is not much engaged with the world around him. He is also deep in debt to a local gangster, after losing too often at the Mah-Jong tables. An inheritance from an aunt may save his neck but to collect the money, he must find his sister, Mai (who has inherited along with him).

Aozora’s search for his sister leads him to the South of Japan, through the red light district and underworld to a gigantic theme park called Amsterdam. Along the way we meet a cast of characters reminiscent of the best of Carl Hiaasen (if Hiaasen’s novels were set in Southern Japan). The action moves quickly and even the most violent scenes are touched with ironic humour.

I didn’t much care for Aozora as a person, but I don’t typically have a ton of patience for the studied cynicism of middle class disaffected youth (although I did warm to him towards the end of the book, as he goes some distance to redeem himself). But I did appreciate his ability to laugh at himself (even after being thrown off a bridge by a pair of thugs or being chased at gunpoint by a gangster who just found him in bed with his girl). However, I appreciated the book’s cast of characters as a whole, most of whom are deeply flawed yet seem to have at least one redeeming characteristic.

The book’s setting is a character in and of itself – modern, tourist-driven, westernized Japan at odds (and yearning) for more traditional times. The author’s descriptive passages were perhaps what I loved most about the book, not overdone but highly evocative.

I also loved his descriptions of people. An old woman is said to have “the face of a dried prune” while a mobster is “a cross between Kim Jong-Il and Liberace.”

I can’t help but wonder, though what a Japanese reader would make of the book. While Aozora is Japanese, Sherwood is not and I don’t know enough about Japan or its culture to judge the authenticity of his voice.

The book is sprinkled with black and white illustrations. I am not sure that they added anything to the narrative and I actually, for the most part, just found them to be unnecessary distractions from the text.

On the whole, I really enjoyed Escape from Amsterdam and I found myself thinking about it when I had to tear myself away. look forward to another novel from Barrie Sherwood.

*This is a review of a book that was sent to me via Library Thing's Early Reviewer Program.

We hope you find the time to read the book and review it on LibraryThing. You are free--indeed encouraged--to put your review on your blog, or wherever else you want, and to talk about it in the Early Reviewers group. I want to repeat that, although writing a review will help your chances of getting more books, the actual content of your review will not.

My father passed today

The day began with much promise I would finish seminars, and the National Lung Cancer Partnership and be with my family tonight celebrating my daughters birthday. The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry; such is true for lung cancer patients too. My day to a dramatic turn from a simple short phone call I received from my mother at 1058 CST. The main message conveyed during the conversation was "your father has passed, he went into cardiac arrest.".... I had no response I said "I will be in Durham in a little bit, I am in Chicago, let me catch a plane to Durham" I got to Durham and the message from the conversation still was not true until I saw the Funeral Parlor van in my parents driveway, and many family members around the house. My father is gone, even though I am a grown man, I have traveled the world, and have a family of my own; your father for men serves as a security blanket and now I have lost my blanket. Over the next couple of days I will have to come to grips with the fact that my father does not have to suffer anymore, he does not have to hurt anymore, he can finally get that rest he so richly deserves. My father has worked hard on the bottom floor he has a solid foundation in those that survive him, his soul and spirit shall live on. It is hard to say goodbye, even as you have tried to prepare for this event for months, years now, you can never truly prepare for this, it is a flood gate of emotions.

5 years OLD

Happy B-Day Raegan, five years old and counting. Thank-you for keeping me young even though you, mommy and Ravyn or (R cubed Rhonda, Raegan, Ravyn) have caused me to loose my hair. Happy Birthday I will see you tonight when I get off the plane, we will have a Dora the Explorer marathon

this sums it up perfectly

If my life had a mission statement, this would be it.

Image and sentiment, courtesy of Sara, as this week's contribution to Love Thursday.

WHEW.

Either the dex kicks butt or last month's blood test was a fluke. Maybe both. My M-spike has returned to 1.7.

I'm glad I didn't spend an entire month freaking out about last month's results. That would have been wrong. Now I can focus on more important matters, such as trying to get tickets to the New Kids on the Block concert. Order has been restored to the universe.

Stand Up 2 Cancer

Bo got the Transplant

Hey I know I haven't posted in awhile, been real tired in the eve since going back to work fulltime, I need to post more often, I have time now since I am out of town with this conference; enough about me I will post later but I am excited since BO got the transplant.
http://bovsbac.blogspot.com/

Where The End of Cancer Begins: Stand Up to Cancer

I have mentioned Dr. Wahl, the cancer research scientist I met in San Diego who so inspired me as to the importance of funding for cancer research. At the time I met him, he was speaking to a group of us involved in the Scientist-Survivor Program. Towards the end of our discussion, he told us to watch the date Sept. 5th, that something new and important would happen regarding cancer research funding. Though we asked, he would not tell us what it was, just told us to "watch the date".

It's officially now been announced on TV and the web site is up and running. Stand Up To Cancer. On September 5th all three major television networks will join hands and work together to donate an hour of commercial-free television time to education and fundraising devoted to a cancer cure. The special will feature live performances by recording artists, television and film stars. There will be interviews with patients and scientists, information about cancer screening and information about potential ground-breaking discoveries in cancer research.



The web site (http://www.standup2cancer.org )is wonderful and loaded with information on this new initiative which I will do my best to make people aware of. Cancer affects all of us. One in every two men and one in every three women will one day have a cancer diagnosis...unless cancer is beaten.

With so many resources and people and hopefully the many citizens in our nation coming together, this truly may mean the beginning of the end of cancer. Major league baseball has already donated $10 million to Stand Up To Cancer.

Please check out the web site and listen to some of the videos. Click the link "Get Involved" at the top of the web page and maybe add a face to the Stand or a star to the Constellation. Search the Constellation and see if someone you know is already there.

I think this is a truly wonderful and good thing...people from so many different walks of life joining hands and coming together in an attempt to defeat cancer. It's so appropriate, too. When I was diagnosed, I realized cancer was the great equalizer...being rich or smart or successful did not offer any protection. This is kind of the flip side of that coin. We are all potential victims, but we can all make a difference in defeating cancer. We can all join together to battle an enemy that affects us all.

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Jay discovered these books in the Atlanta airport while traveling for work, and now we are hooked:



I think these books are intended for, like, 12-year-old boys, but they're hilarious. They're especially good reading when you are sitting around a doctor's waiting room. The third one doesn't come out until January. I can't wait.

A sample page:

New Research For Detection of Ovarian Cancer

Researcher Says She Has Developed A Cancer-Fighting Tool

A researcher who has been experimenting with monoclonal antibodies as a tool for fighting cancer for almost two decades says she has developed a form of the cloned immune system component that could play a role in treating breast, ovarian and other forms of cancer.

Anne Kellogg, associate professor of pathology and laboratory medicine at East Carolina University's Brody School of Medicine, says a monoclonal antibody her team has developed, dubbed DS-6, has shown an ability to attach itself of cancer cells in the lab. This could pave the way for using DS-6 antibodies to deliver potent cancer-killing agents to the malignant cells.

Particular types of monoclonal antibodies can act with great specificity because they are all cloned from the same immune system cell. The antibodies work by attaching themselves to a specific antigen, a protein structure on the cell membrane. This anti-body-antigen interaction sets up disease pathogens for attack by other immune system cells.

The DS-6 antibody Kellogg has developed latches on to tumor cells and enables the whole compound - the antibody and the attached cell-killing agent - to enter the cancer cell. Once inside, the cell-killing agent becomes activated and kills the tumor cell as it divides.

"We can't give such a potent chemotherapy agent on its own because it would be too toxic, but if we can link it to an antibody, it goes inside the tumor cell and is released inside the tumor cell, which is really an amazing feat," Kellogg said.

Kellogg first began working with monoclonal antibodies in the early 1990s.

Kellogg is now working with two drug firms - ImmunoGen and sanofi-aventis - that have expertise in turning monoclonal antibodies into cancer therapies and taking them to clinical trials in humans. These clinical tests must show a proposed drug or other form of treatment are safe and effective before the U.S. Food and Drug Administration will authorize their use by doctors in treating patients.

Red Flags for Hereditary Cancers -NY Times

All cancers are genetic in origin. When genes are working properly, cell growth is tightly regulated, as if a stoplight told cells to divide only so many times and no more. A cancer occurs when something causes a mutation in the genes that limit cell growth or that repair DNA damage.

next year

Hopefully, I will be doing this at the 2009 BlogHer conference.

How cool is that?

And how cool is it to be planning for a year from now?

Chemo today. I will try and keep this happy thought in mind over the next couple of days.

Electrolux partners with OCRF

The weekend

We had a good weekend. The weather alternated between thunderstorms and steamy heat, but we managed to go to the Kansas City Zoo, grill hamburgers, chase after WCK as she pedaled furiously down the sidewalk on her trike, and just hang around the house. WCK kept kicking my butt at Hi-Ho-Cherry-O.

It was really weird, but I barely felt the dex crash this weekend. I still felt a little yucky, but nothing like before. I'm hoping this is a new trend, but I don't want to get too optimistic.

Today a nurse from the Cancer Center called to tell me ... that my results are not back yet. Oh. Thanks.

Safety

I was talking to a friend recently. Her son was diagnosed with leukemia over a year ago. He was just beginning first grade when he was diagnosed. He finished treatment and did well, but he will have to repeat first grade. He only attended classes for a few weeks last year as he was so involved with chemo, testing, doctor appointments and all of the traveling that entailed. She said the doctors now feel he is done with cancer forever, though they will continue to follow him.

So the crisis is over. Kind of. She said the first symptom her son had before she knew he had cancer was drenching night sweats. So she checks him at night to make sure he is dry. A lot. She wonders if there is any genetic component. Will her other children also develop leukemia? She watches them closely for the same early signs. Will her family's world come crashing down again?

They aren't safe anymore. A vicious enemy snuck into their home and into their lives once when they weren't looking. Will it come again? Or will a new and different unexpected enemy announce it's presence later?

One of the greatest insults of a cancer diagnosis is that we never quite feel safe again. We are always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Are we safe to move forward? Are we safe to plan a future? We don't want to be caught unawares again, so we are hypervigilant. We long for enough time to pass that we might feel the same sense of safety we did before cancer, but it is a long time coming. For a long time after my diagnosis I could not even say the word's "next year". I almost felt as if I'd jinx myself if I tried to plan that far into the future.

In the past 5 years was the landmark. If you made it 5 years you were considered "cured". You could leave the world of cancer and move on. Now, though, the medical community has replaced the word "cured" with "long term remission". There are enough survivors now that they've learned cancer can recur even after 5 years. When I first heard that shortly after my own diagnosis I was so disappointed, even angry. I know of another woman who read that we were all considered long-term remission vs. cured in a magazine while waiting in an oncology office.....she threw the magazine across the room. Would we never be allowed to feel safe again?

It's what makes cancer tougher than many other enemies. We never know when it's over, we never know when it's okay to feel safe again. We can't get past the crisis and declare it over. Seven years later I still am tested for cancer recurrence.

The trick is to learn to move forward in spite of the fear, in spite of knowing we may never really feel safe again. Someone told me that moving forward in spite of fear was the definition of courage. I looked up the definition: "also known as bravery, will and fortitude, courage is the ability to confront fear, pain, risk/danger, uncertainty, or intimidation."

All of us who have battled cancer and who move on to the next day are courageous. We need to acknowledge that in ourselves and celebrate our courage.

Memorial Day

Memorial Day was a great day we just took it easy today, spending time with my lovely family and reflecting on the freedoms we have as a nation; oh yea and to top off the day I shared a valuable teaching moment with my ladies. The lesson was daddy always wins take no prisoners, see the pictures below.... never under estimate the handicapped.....


R cubed (Rhonda, Raegan, Ravyn) huddle and plot all you want you can't beat me, nanny nanny boo boo (as Ravyn has now learned to say)
A professional at work, such grace, such form, autographs will sold on EBAY

Full moon, and half moon.

I am glad my feet were not hurting that day
No Raegan the lane is behind you

Strike

Reach for an L Instead of a Pill

There was an ad for cigarettes, relying on at vanity: Reach for a Lucky instead of a Sweet. Yesterday I told L all about my anxiety about working on my book. I mean, I tell him about most of my anxieties but hadn't told him just how terrible I'd been feeling, worrying about revising my book and also about buying this house. He told me that I always get like this before a big deadline. It always helps when he tells me things like this. Then it means that the horrible feeling will end. And it did. So I didn't need to take an Ativan.

Today I decided to go over two theses I needed to for thesis meetings on Saturday. I thought after going through student work I'd feel eager to go back to my own. I made it through one and half theses. The second one contains stories I've read about five times, in different versions, and instead of being sick of them, I felt comforted in their familiarity. I keep searching for the right simile for this experience, or analogy. I feel that each time a person reads a story, the reader re-animates the characters, takes them off the shelf, turns the key in the back of the toy. Adds water to sea-monkey packet. And when you read a story for the nth time, everything in it is just etched a little deeper in your brain, joining the other images you had stored there from when you read the story before. Maybe what I mean is that everything you read in the past becomes a memory, and when you read the story again, the images and characters you imagine in the present join up with your memories of the images and characters, and the story seems more real because of the memories. And to complicate it all, there are the ghosts of the past drafts, hovering, shadowy--the roads the writer took and back-tracked. As they say, Don't think of a white bear.

I was going through the theses in the Little Cafe, and I wanted to take a break, so I reached for one of the New Yorkers I'd donated to the cafe in order to clear out my house. I read an article about the changes Gordon Lish made to Raymond Carver's stories. I assume this is old news for everyone who reads their New Yorkers when they arrive. Or for anyone who read D.T. Max's article in the New York Times in 1998. So then I read "Beginners" in the New Yorker, which became "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." A few hours later I read the latter, which Lish had shortened very much. Of course the shadow of the longer story was in my head as I read the shorter version. I was wondering about the best way to present the two versions to a fiction class. (People have long compared two versions of Carver's story "Cathedral.") Do you have the students read the uncut story first or the shorter version? Maybe have half the class read the shorter first, and the other half, the opposite. And have them debate which is better.

Carver wrote to Lish in panic and distress, telling him not to publish his collection as Lish had edited it, because so many people had read his drafts and would realize how much Lish shaped his work. A couple of days later he was mollified, presumably after talking on the phone with Lish.

Carver has been dead 20 years. Lish is still alive. In a thesis meeting last week a student reminded me that I'd written the punchline at the end of a paragraph. I didn't remember suggesting it. But I thought it was funny.

I still cringe when I think about an edit I did in fifth or sixth grade. We had a class newspaper paper and a guy named Bert Parker wrote a paragraph about guns or hunting and said something would be painful. I inserted "excruciatingly."

flurry of activity

The last few days before chemo are always very, very busy.

All day today, I kept thinking of really great blog ideas.

But now I'm too tired.

And my head is full of snot (thank you to D. for that).

So after sitting and staring at the computer for an hour, I am off to bed.

I'll try to come up with something better when I next post on Wednesday.

Chemo tomorrow am.

Good night.

Zombies

About a year ago, the Mayo Clinic started up a really interesting clinical trial using the measles virus to kill myeloma cells.

The other night, Jay and I watched I Am Legend. In this movie, doctors cure cancer using ... the measles virus. Then everything goes horribly wrong. The virus kills nearly everyone on earth and turns everyone else into rabid, flesh-eating zombies who only come out at night. Will Smith is the only human in the entire world who is unaffected, and he must fight off said zombies. It was one of the scariest movies I've seen in a long time, and I highly recommend it, as long as you are not home alone. I'm rethinking how cool that measles virus clinical trial sounds, though.

Then I got to thinking: Cranky, hungry zombies who are up all night? Maybe they took dex with the measles vaccine.

Update

Cancer Bitch is afraid she will get her blogger award stripped from her because she hasn't blogged in ever so long. She is working hard revising the manuscript based on this blog. It's due at University of Iowa Press June 1 and she is ever so anxious about it. She has had a lump in her throat for about 10 days and takes Ativan for it from time to time and then gets anxious she will become addicted. She is also in the midst of buying a house and quakes at the prospect of actually living full-time with her husband. Right now they live together most of the time in her condo, where 95 percent of the furniture and Stuff is hers. He has half a (big) closet and two dressers and half the bathroom. The rest is in his house in Gary, which he'll sell next spring. But he dislikes most of her furniture and pictures and she doesn't like his pictures so much and she thinks he hangs them too close to the floor anyway. Everything is overwhelming though she knows that in the grand scheme of things these problems are but fly specks. She wonders if any of her readers have anything to say about the New York Times magazine story about blogging and becoming Known. She understands the author's tendency to "overshare" and her feeling that her life is public and private at the same time. But didn't Jennifer Weiner mine some of this same territory in Good in Bed? The NYT story is very thin on cultural history, or any history not the narrator's own. There are no references to other tell-alls, except one that unfolded right as hers did: "For a few hours, my personal dramas took a backseat — sort of — to news that a Pulitzer-winning author had described his wife’s affair with a media mogul in a crazy e-mail message to his graduate students." But what do you expect from a piece that begins "Back in 2006..."?

Is C. Bitch being too harsh? Perhaps. It may be too much to expect a confession to provide cultural and political perspective about a phenomenon while the author is in the middle of it. Mostly, she is amazed at how quickly someone can become famous. But in this day and age, she shouldn't be surprised.

This Little Piggy . . .

Should bring a smile to your face.

My Open Mouth, Insert Fork blog remodel is complete, thanks to Blogs by Danielle.

Dex and the kangaroo

First off, here's a photo of me taken by WCK. Yes, I'm wearing a t-shirt with Mr. Rogers on it. It says, "IT'S GOOD IN THE HOOD". I miss Mr. Rogers.



Yesterday was my monthly appointment at the Cancer Center. My CBC results were all great. White cells were slightly low, but my hemoglobin is still awesome at 12.9. Dr. GPO walked in and said, "You didn't get too worked up over last month's results, did you?" Um. I'm obsessed with last month's results. I have this giant "2.1" in my head at all times. I spent several weeks going shaky with fear whenever I thought about last month's results, which is pretty much all the time. I'm over the shaky-with-fear phase, but I still think about it nonstop. I'm trying to be practical. The stem-cell transplant that I'm sure I'm going to need is all planned out in my head. At least I'll get to wear cool hats and won't have to worry about blow-drying.

Dr. GPO launched into his speech about how THIS IS NO BIG DEAL and he is NOT AT ALL WORRIED. He says my myeloma is still under complete control because none of my other numbers (hemoglobin, kidney function, albumin, etc) are doing anything bad. He thinks that with the re-addition of the dex, my M-spike should go shooting back down. It was a very happy speech, which I guess I appreciate, but I've heard happy speeches from him before, only to have bad test results come back and cancel out the happy speech. Like the first time I ever saw him: "Oh, this is NOTHING. You probably just have some extra protein floating around in your body." Hmmm. I totally fell for that one.

Anyway. I should get the results next week, and then I'll have another test June 2 at Mayo.

As for the dex, I'm now in the middle of my third dose since starting back on it. Things are slightly better than before. Still yucky, but better. The nurse at Mayo suggested taking it right before I go to bed instead of first thing in the morning. I was really skeptical, but this has actually helped so far. I sleep through a lot of the yuckiness on the first night, it starts to kick in and make me feel perky by the time I wake up, and it starts to wear off by the second night. I still have the infamous Dex Crash after that, but I'm not sure there's a way to avoid that one. It's like a tired, groggy, my-brain-doesn't work withdrawal feeling from the dex. My last crash, though, didn't seem as bad as others I've had. I was actually able to take WCK to Penguin Park, which is one of the wildest, most fun parks in our area. I've had dex crashes in the past that would have rendered me completely unable to deal with the concept of a 20-foot kangaroo:

So, we'll see how it goes. The way it affects me could change at any time. As Winnie-the-Pooh might say, "You never can tell with dex."

fond in spite of it all (and he is pretty spiteful)

Remember Eli?

Eli has taken to chasing his tail (and catching it) again, an activity that apparently became an obsession when I was in London (he doesn't have to like me, apparently to miss my presence in the house during the day). Upon my return, it became routine for us to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of a hissing, spitting cat fight taking place at the foot of the bed (and we only have the one cat).

Last Monday morning, I was sitting in the living room when I heard ear-splitting yowling coming from the kitchen. I ran into a scene straight out of a horror movie, as blood gushed from a three-inch gash at the end of Eli's tail. I simultaneously applied pressure and called the vet.

It turns out that he also had severely impacted anal glands (sorry if this grosses you out, I did warn you, though the blog is "Not Just About Cancer") and is hyperthyroid (this will mean medication for the rest of his life.

Every morning, I now find myself administering antibiotics and thyroid meds, then feeding wet food that has been sprinkled with metamucil to the cat, even before I have had coffee or breakfast.

And we haven't even begun to deal with the crazy (because although the anal glands and the thyroid problem may have made things worse, they aren't really the root of the problem).

OK, so maybe I feel a little sorry for him.


After fourteen years, it's hard not to be a little attached.

And he's always had a certain sociopathic charm.

I've got to go hold him down now, so that my spouse can change his bandages.

Judy Jeopardy

I'm happy to say that WCK seems to be fully recovered from her mysterious bout with Mr. Potato Head Fever. In fact, she got so much rest yesterday that she announced her recovery at 3 a.m. by singing songs about dinosaurs at the top of her lungs for several hours. I'm happy she is better, but I wish she could have gotten better about four hours later than she did.

Today I got my official invitation to the Annual Judy Garland Festival in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. I've only been to this one time, in 2000. I met six of the surviving Munchkins, and I managed to make them all mad. The autograph line was very disorganized. I didn't know that you were supposed to buy a photo from EACH Munchkin and have them autograph it; I only bought one photo and took it around to all of them. Apparently, Munchkins rely on the income from photo sales, and they were pretty annoyed with me. The guy from the Lollipop Guild gave me the Evil Eye.

Anyway. I got my invite for this year. We can't go, but one of the events is "Judy Jeopardy" and the web site promises "cash prizes!". Dude! I would not be confident in my abilities at any other kind of trivia contest, but I could TOTALLY win Judy Jeopardy. I could be the all-time champion. Maybe I will be able to go next year. I'd better start training.

Six Month Sensation

I've heard that it takes the body from six months to a year to rid itself of toxic chemo infusions. I hit my six-month mark last week and I gotta' tell ya': I've never felt better in my life. I can honestly say that I feel none of the residue of the chemo in November or the lung damage that struck in January.

I've been posting more on my food blog, Open Mouth, Insert Fork. Check out my latest reminisces about sweet tea. I'm still working on that "redesign" that I promised several months ago.

I'm also contributing to the Pasadena YWCA's blog. Check out my latest post, "What Color is Fraud?"

The sick room

Our pediatrician's office has a "sick" waiting room and a "well" waiting room, an arrangement, which, in theory, would keep the germs away from the well kids. They aren't really separate rooms; they're more like one big room partially divided by a low wall. The sick waiting room is equipped with a giant flat-screen TV showing "Cars", shelves of brand new children's books, and a table heaped with every toy imaginable.

The well waiting room has, like, two ripped up paperback books and one of those "wooden beads on a bendy wire" toys. I don't know the official name of this toy, but all parents must know what I am talking about. This is always the toy you see in waiting rooms at doctor's offices, banks, etc. I've never actually seen this toy in anyone's home or in a toy store. It must come from a waiting-room-supply catalog. It's probably the least exciting toy ever.

Of course, WCK never wants to wait in the well room. She was drawn to the sick waiting room like a moth to a flame. While I was at the check-in desk trying to dig out the insurance card and co-pay, she was already at the sick table, playing with a Disney Mr. Potato Head. (It had mouse ears). I thought, "Ah, I don't want to be one of those paranoid parents. What's the worst that could happen?" I let her keep on playing with the sick toys. In my defense, I knew that within five minutes she would announce that she had to go "pee." Going pee in public never involves actual pee. It involves finding a restroom, checking out the inside of the restroom, and then washing hands. I was right. Five minutes later, the restroom was inspected, and her hands were washed.

Apparently, the hand-washing was not enough. Today, she has some kind of Martian Death Flu. She's been running a fever and either sleeping or watching "The Land Before Time" all day. I called the doctor's office, and the nurse said not to worry unless the fever goes over 105 or she gets dehydrated. So far, she's fine on those counts.

Now I know why the sick room has the good toys: Repeat business for the doctor's office. Very clever.

Introducing the WCK-Cam

WCK got some great presents for her birthday. Jay's parents got her a trike. It's a bright red, old-fashioned Radio Flyer with streamers on the handlebars and a little bell and everything. It's now one of her favorite things in the world. Her other favorite thing is a gift from my parents: A Fisher-Price "Kid Tough" digital camera. It's this huge pink plastic thing that would probably survive a fall from the top of a three-story building, and it really works. It even came with a cable so you can download the photos onto the computer. As soon as it was out of the box and Grandpa rushed to get batteries inside it, WCK was shooting photo after photo.

Most of the photos are multi-colored blurs, and a lot of them are of adults' legs and feet. I guess that is how she sees the world, after all. Some of them are quite artistic, though. Here are some arty shots of her new trike:



In this one, you can see her little pink Disney Princess shoes:

This one is actually pretty good:

Part of the front-porch goose in its Happy Birthday outfit:

And a photo she managed to take of herself:

WCK is addicted to this camera. I'm sure I'll be posting more WCK photo essays on a regular basis.

teaching and learning about persistence

Part One (in which running is harder than walking)

Yesterday, my oldest son and I went running.

He is a couch potato and I want him to get fit and get moving.

I used to be a runner but stopped shortly before my surgery in 2006 and have not run since.

S. balked at this proposal at first but I stood firm. Then we saw Run Fatboy Run and he came around (he adores Simon Pegg. And the 'slacker turns long distance runner and gets the girl' theme really appealed to him. Whatever works, I figure).

We did Week One of a beginner's run/walk programme. We ran for one minute and walked for two minutes for a total of twenty minutes (we also did ten minutes of walking to warm up and cool down on each end). Even though I walk almost every day (and sometimes quite briskly), I really felt it (I was also running in a pair of really crappy old shoes which I threw in the garbage when I got home). It's hard to imagine that there was a point in my life when I was able to run for more than an hour and that I once finished a half-marathon.

And S., who had started by saying that he can walk faster than I run (which is true), was panting pretty hard at the end and asking "are we done yet?" Every few seconds.

Still, we both agreed that it was hard work but not overwhelmingly so (I even think that S. was a little proud of himself) and that we would keep at it. I told S. that I expect him to finish the programme with me (in ten weeks we will be running for twenty minutes in two ten-minute increments) and then he will be off the hook.

By then, I am hoping that we will both be addicted.

He was asking yesterday about running a marathon. I think it would be fun to do a 5k together.

We'll see.

On Friday, we will go out and do it again.

Part Two (in which I am pretty)

It was well past D.'s bedtime last night when he asked if he could 'do' my hair. I couldn't resist.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved having my hair brushed. This hadn't happened for a very long time. My hair hasn't really been long enough for years and when it was, there wasn't anyone in my life who was interested in brushing it.

D. set to gently brushing (he was standing on the bed as I sat on it). As he worked, he would make comments:

"Tell me if I hurt you."

"S's hair tangles because it is curly."

"Your hair is like mine and S.'s is like Papa's."

"In the light, your hair looks golden."

and

"I like your hair, Mama."

After brushing, it was time to add some adornments. We both loved the end result:


I have been growing out my hair since it started growing back after the Adriamycin. What you see is the result of almost two years of persistence (I am sure that the current treatment regimen has slowed progress, too).

Recently, I have been thinking of giving up. I had very short hair in the months before my diagnosis and I keep coming across photos of myself with short hair in which I think I look pretty good.

But after last night I don't want to cut it any more.

And I've invested in all these cute little clips. Who knew I could wear them all at the same time?


Update on my heart situation: I just got off the phone with my oncologist. He's not really worried about the drop in my ejection fraction. We're going to proceed with next week's treatment as planned and he is going to book an echo cardiogram for me and see if it gives the same results.

People who would know have been advising me that such tests can produce inconsistent results and it seems that my oncologist agrees.

Cross-posted to Mommybloggers.

Relationships in the Cancer Community

I read something recently that struck home and made me think. It compared cancer patient relationships to those of survivors of natural disasters or other community tragedies. In my experience, those are sometimes situations that bring out the best in humanity, the best in human nature. I was thinking about a terrible snow storm in my old neighborhood many years ago. Suddenly my neighbors all looked out for each other and checked on each other even though we didn't know each other well. My car was stuck and as my wheels spun, several people suddenly came out of their houses and pushed my car free. We kind of developed an all-for-one and one-for-all attitude while the emergency existed. It was great. It made me believe in humanity and in the human spirit.

At first I didn't want relationships with other cancer patients. I feared loss, and feared that relationships with other cancer patients would make me feel more vulnerable. If their cancer came back, maybe mine would too. If chemo didn't help them, maybe it wouldn't help me. Everyone said I had to think positive. I was afraid someone else's bad news might have a negative affect on my positive attitude (in hindsight, I know we can't always think positive and that's okay).

I've never had a lot of patience with superficial relationships where conversation revolves around small talk. That's okay at first, but I love conversations that go deeper, that have more substance. I value conversations where we are safe to feel vulnerable. I've found I have those kinds of conversations easily with others who have a cancer diagnosis. We don't waste a lot of time on small talk, we cut right to the chase and talk about fear and faith and feelings and the epiphanies our diagnosis has brought into our awareness. I can talk to another cancer patient on the phone and we can easily talk for over an hour about things that really matter. We become close rapidly and understand each other easily. We probably spend 5 minutes talking about our marital status, houses, kids activities and our jobs. We move right past those vital statistics to what's on our mind, what we care about, what we want from life, our fears, what brings us joy, how we view death. We are unitied in a profound and meaningful way. We share perspectives those who have never had cancer can't understand. We all hate to waste time. We sometimes have the same warped sense of humor. We share the best of human nature as we weather our storms. We are in a sense related by circumstance; we become a sort of family.

I know now life is short. I have come to value being part of a community...and I have come to enjoy very much the privilege of being part of the community of cancer patients and survivors. There are people I never would have met had it not been for my cancer diagnosis. For that I am grateful.

Getting my teeth fixed

I am going to get the rough crown smoothed out (molar #19) on Thursday so that my poor tongue won't take so much abuse, I hope I remember to take my 4 antibiotics 1 hour before my visit. (cancer / transplant patients and heart patients must take antibiotics at least an hour before any type of dental visit to help ward off any type of infection we may get due to cutting our mouth during any sort of procedure).

President Bush Signs H.R. 493, the Genetic Information Nondiscrimination Act of 2008

thumpity thump (or rather, whoosh, whoosh)

Last week, my appointment with my oncologist was cancelled. Apparently, he was very sick with a high fever. Having a cancer patient's selfishness, my first thought was, "Oh! It's good that I won't be coming into contact with him then!" Then, my more empathic self remonstrated and I wished him well, poor man.

The nurse who works with him was kind enough to confirm my CT results. The tech who did the scan (or rather her radiologist boyfriend) was right. My scan was clean and there is still no sign of cancer on the liver.

However, the nurse also told me that my heart scan revealed that my ejection fraction (the measurement of my heart's ability to pump blood) was down to 48%. Fifty-five per cent is considered normal (before I started treatment, my EF was 56%), so this is not as bad as it sounds. It is however, a fairly significant drop and likely an indication that the Herceptin is putting a strain on my heart (a common side effect of this drug).

This is not the first time this has happened. Adriamycin (the 'red devil') was also very hard on my heart, so we waited a couple of months to start the Herceptin, in order to give my heart a chance to rebound.

According to my oncologist, it is easier for the heart to recover from Herceptin than from Adriamycin. We've discussed the possibility of taking a break from Herceptin (while continuing with the chemo) if damage should occur, so I am confident that this is what he will suggest when I speak to him tomorrow.

I am really reluctant to stop the Herceptin, since it has worked so well for me. There is a voice in my head (one of several. You have them, too. Don't lie) yelling, "Don't mess with what's working!" But the truth is that it's not working if I need to start taking heart medication or worse, end up with heart failure.

So, if my oncologist suggests doing chemo only for the next couple of months, I will agree (what choice do I have?). I will wait for my heart to rebound (it's weird because I don't feel any different, really).

But I am just a little nervous.

And chemo won't be as much fun without the Demerol.

Checkup time

Yesterday was WCK's three-year checkup with the pediatrician. What a difference a year makes: Last year, she screamed through the entire appointment, clung to me, and wouldn't let the doctor anywhere near her. This year, she was excited to be at the doctor's office and carefully followed all of the instructions from the nurse. She did hesitate a little about getting on the scale ("Maybe later," she told the nurse), but she eventually complied and then cheerfully allowed her blood pressure to be taken. Then she sat primly in her chair and happily answered all of the doctor's questions. Granted, some of her answers were big lies, but nobody would ever suspect.

"Do you get yourself dressed in the morning?" the doctor asked WCK.

"YES!" exclaimed WCK enthusiastically.

The doctor believed her and checked off the "Dresses Self" box. I guess if "getting yourself dressed" means "running naked through all of the rooms upstairs and laughing like a maniac while Mommy chases you with your clothes", then this is technically true.

The doctor asked her her name and age (which she knew right away), and then asked if she was a boy or a girl. WCK acted like she didn't know this one. As soon as we left the office, I asked her again.

"WCK, are you a boy or a girl?" I asked.

"I'm WCK!" she said indignantly. I think this is an excellent answer.

Later, she did tell me that she is a girl, and then correctly identified several friends (including the infamous Neighbor Boy) as either a boy or a girl.

"Is Mommy a boy or a girl?" I asked.

"Mommy's nothing," she said.

Hmm.

My tongue works fine

My tongue ain't sick, or at least no bi0psy will be taken. My tongue has a legion the the side of it so I went to an oral surgeon to get it checked out. I am relieved to know that it is just a bruise / tongue callus from rubbing up against a rough crown I have on my molar I think number 19 if my poor memory serves me correctly.

I am still bruised from the softball game as I did have one error and had a ball hit me in the wrist.

It is a week before the lung cancer advocacy summit in Chicago and I hope I am not getting sick.

I took an O2 (Oxygen) meter home to monitor my oxygen levels over night and discovered that my O2 during the night hovers in the 80% range while I am trying to sleep 97% of the time, so this means more test, a sleep study, and possible oxygen for me while I sleep.

a bad idea, going badly

It seems that the Canadian Border Services Agency (CBSA) 'snitch line' is attracting a lot of frivolous calls.

According to an article in today's Globe and Mail, the agency logs between thirty and forty calls to the hotline a day, the bulk of which are irrelevant or even downright malicious:

As one log demonstrates, many callers don't quite grasp how the immigration system works: "Caller would like to deport a couple of people from Canada and she would like the website address to fill out the proper forms. Advised caller that it is not her decision who gets deported. Caller does not care."

Another person calls the watch line from prison - where he is serving time for assault and forcible confinement of his girlfriend - to report his girlfriend is engaged in a paid marriage of convenience. "There is a small concern about his credibility," a CBSA employee notes.

Um, yeah (I really love the understatement here. No doubt most CBSA employees would agree that their time could be better spent than answering and logging these kinds of calls).

The snitch line was an ill-conceived plan and one that exploits the basest of human tendencies. Encouraging Canadians to spy on their neighbours is distasteful and unproductive (to continue with the understatement). I think our tax dollars could be spent infinitely more wisely.

"Caller states he has a problem. His wife's family is interfering with his marriage and he doesn't want them to come to Canada," a watch line employee writes.

"Advised him to speak with his wife."

I have a new post up at Mommybloggers! It's about my boys playing hide and seek.

Why my husband is great

Last Friday morning, Jay was leaving for work extra early. I was still asleep. He came back into the bedroom to make an important announcement.

"Did you know the New Kids on the Block are going to be on the Today Show this morning?" he asked.

"Mmmmfpfh!!" I said. (This is Barely Awake Talk for "WHAT? NO! NOBODY TOLD ME THIS! WHAT?")

"I will go set the TiVo for you," said Jay. And he did.

Not many husbands would offer this level of support, particularly when a First Imaginary Husband was involved (My FIH would be Donnie Walhberg). By the way, do you think Donnie was wearing that hat because he's probably bald now?

Make Cancer a National Priority -Sign Petition

Live Strong Survivor Care Program

CancerCare Update on Ovarian Cancer

Medical Update on Ovarian Cancer from the 2008 American Society of Clinical Oncology (ASCO) Annual Meeting

Study provides clues to prevent spread of ovarian cancer

A Parasite in Sight?

I went in for my monthly visit to City of Hope today and received some strange results on my blood test. We usually just concentrate on my blood counts (which are still normal or just below the normal range), but this time Dr. Forman drew my attention to the Eosinophil (EOS) granulocytes. The normal range is between 0 and 2%, but my counts were more than 20%. A high percentage usually indicates blood parasites.

Could this be why I continued eating like a longshoreman but only gained a half pound in the last month? I'm not exhibiting any other signs of blood parasites, so we're just going to wait and see what happens next month.

I also dropped in for a two-hour cognitive test. I'm participating in a three-year study to determine if there's a connection between high-dose chemo and diminished cognitive functioning (aka chemo brain). Not to brag, but my brain seems to be operating swifter and better than ever. The test administrator, who's not supposed to give feedback, told me that I performed faster and more accurately than any patient she's ever tested in several areas. I even made a clean sweep in the area that's usually my weakest - spatial/visual perception problems. (When I took the same test before my stem cell transplant, I hit a wall on the last two problems.)

I strutted out of there thinking, "Watch out world. I am one smart cookie!" But the euphoria didn't last long. On my way down to my clinical appointment, I realized that I'd forgotten my yellow patient folder. I went back to get it and got lost. I wandered around aimlessly for several minutes and never found my folder or the testing area.

Is that the way the smart cookie crumbles?

Ovarian Cancer Early Detection Program: Screening Study

Pilot Screening Study for Ovarian Cancer in Participants Who are at High Genetic Risk for Developing Ovarian Cancer

Higher occurrence of childhood cancer in families with germline mutations in BRCA2, MMR and CDKN2A genes

The early detection of ovarian cancer: from traditional methods to proteomics. Can we really do better than serum CA-125?

Axillary lymph node metastasis from serous ovarian cancer: a case report and review of the literature

Fertility drugs and risk of ovarian cancer: dispelling the myth

A BTB/POZ Gene, NAC-1, a Tumor Recurrence-Associated Gene, as a Potential Target for Taxol Resistance in Ovarian Cancer.

CA125 velocity at relapse is a highly significant predictor of survival post relapse: results of a 5-year follow-up survey to a randomized placebo-con

Vascular endothelial growth factor expression in ovarian cancer: a model for targeted use of novel therapies?

Modulation of drug resistance in ovarian adenocarcinoma by enhancing intracellular ceramide using tamoxifen-loaded biodegradable polymeric nanoparticl

NCI~The Nation's Investment in Cancer Research

Chemical compound SHetA2 prevents cancer in lab - Possible cancer prevention?

Happy birthday, WCK!!

Yesterday was WCK's birthday! She is now THREE! Three is very old. Three is when you officially start to become a "real person" instead of a baby. I think I said that last year about two, but I really mean it now. I'm sure I will say it next year about four.

We had a party for her yesterday at a local park. The weather was amazing, and we had a really good time with lots of family and friends and a very cool dinosaur cake from Hy-Vee. It featured volcanoes that were nothing more than giant mounds of green frosting (oozing frosting lava, of course), and decorative plastic dinosaurs that really made roaring sounds. I made dino hats for all the kids (actually, I think they were really monster hats ... but they kind of looked like dinos), and we tried a game where they could pick prizes out of a bucket using one of those opening-and-closing dinosaur heads on a stick. I don't think this 33-year-old had the fine motor skills to pull this off, so it was a bit of a challenge, but fun.

I hope everybody who came had a good time. We sure did. Now I have to start planning next year's party. I keep thinking that some year I need to do a Wizard of Oz party, of course, but that would have to be my Ultimate Party Masterpiece. After that, I'd have to retire undefeated from the world of parties.

Fuel for Thought

Read the latest at Open Mouth, Insert Fork.

TGFβ1 stimulates the secretion of matrix metalloproteinase 2 (MMP2) and the invasive behavior in human ovarian cancer cells, which is suppressed by MM

Link Between Vitamin D Status And Breast Cancer Illuminated

another one for the 'if only' files

First we find out that Vitamin D is thought to prevent breast cancer.

Then came today's news that breast cancer is more likely spread in women who are deficient in the sunshine vitamin (from the Globe and Mail):

Women diagnosed with breast cancer are nearly twice as likely to have the disease spread to other parts of their bodies and are 73 per cent more likely to die from it if they have low levels of vitamin D, according to a Canadian study...younger women tended to have the lowest levels because they generally didn't use vitamin D supplements, which older women often take to prevent bone fractures.

“Vitamin D deficiency is common,” observed Pamela Goodwin, senior investigator at Mount Sinai Hospital's Samuel Lunenfeld Research Institute in Toronto and principal researcher on the study. “It's associated with high-grade tumours, and in our data set, it's associated with an increased risk of [cancer spread] and death.”

National Cancer Survivors Day- Stony Brook University Medical Center

On Sunday, June 1, 2008, Stony Brook University Medical Center will host the 4th annual National Cancer Survivors Day®, an annual worldwide celebration in hundreds of communities in the United States, Canada and other countries. Over 500 survivors, guests, and physicians, administrators and employees are expected to attend.

"Carousel of Life" honors the lives of all Long Island cancer survivors, particularly those treated at SBUH. The day includes entertainment, refreshments and carnival games. More importantly, it brings together survivors from age 1 to age 88 with SBUH physicians and staff, and their families, in a fun and meaningful setting.

The event will be held on the grounds of the Ambulatory Care Pavilion/Cancer Center, located at 3 Edmund Pellegrino Drive, from 11 am to 2 pm. To register, please click here. More information about participating, or volunteering, can be found by calling 631-444-4000.

The non-profit National Cancer Survivors Day Foundation (http://www.ncsdf.org) supports hundreds of hospitals and support groups nationwide, and in 2005 the organization is celebrating its 18th year. National Cancer Survivors Day has become one of the world's largest cancer survivor events.

In case of inclement weather call 631-638-0698.

For additional information, please call the Cancer Center at 631-638-1000.

2008 LIVESTRONG Summit

The LIVESTRONG Summit will bring together delegates from across the country to be inspired, empowered and trained to lead community-centered efforts to help make cancer a national priority.

The LIVESTRONG Summit will take place July 24-27, 2008, at the Ohio State University campus in Columbus, Ohio.

Through an application process, the LAF will identify 1,000 current and potential leaders who are willing to champion the cause in their communities.
To attend sessions that best suit their interests, delegates must choose one of three concurrent tracks: Grassroots & Advocacy, Grassroots & Elections or Grassroots & Fundraising.

bloggers unite for human rights

May 15 is the day that bloggers around the world unite to speak up for human rights (you can find out what some BlogHer contributors have chosen to write about by following this link).

I have been thinking all day about what I would like to contribute.

I visited the Amnesty International site and added my voice to their campaigns about human rights violations in China and in Guantanamo Bay.

I thought about my friend Eve Goldberg and how she wrote a song and then offered it to Amnesty to use in its campaign to end human rights violations in Burma.

And I thought about my own country where:

Far too many children still go to school hungry.

First Nations Peoples are still treated like second class citizens.

and my government has been complicit in many gross abuses of human rights (here's another example).

And I was thinking today that it's been a while since I have done much to address these injustices.

I vote.

I sign online petitions.

Sometimes I donate money.

And I can talk a good game.

All of these things are important but I think it's time that I resolve to do more. All too often, I let the opportunity to speak out, call my MP or write a letter slip by me. I simply assume that someone else is on top of it.

I resolve to take a little more action, step up and speak out when I get the chance. It only takes a few minutes to call my MP and only a few more to write a personal letter. And I can write more, right here in this blog about human rights at home and abroad.

I'll think a bit more on all of this and get back to you.

And speaking of human rights, good news coming out of California today, no?

I still taste that Barium

I had a pretty good visit with the transplant doctors. I have wrapped my test for my annual post transplant evaluation so I have established my baseline numbers. My breathing is coming along nicely I think given that I just had pneumonia 4 weeks ago, with the quick spirometry I am in the mid 80% for my lung functionality, on the real breathing test the PFT's done in the closed breathing chamber of (death as I call it) glass my lung functionality is in the mid 70% range. Obviously I have some work to do. I was disappointed with my six minute walk, I feel I could have done better so I am lobbying for a retest GIVE ME A MULLIGAN please, I walked about 420 meters (dodged to painters, and a military guy visiting his relatives) back and forth in the hallway at the SPA (UT Southwestern Hospital)

I still taste Barium in my mouth as I had some barium required test done, it still taste bad but I do not bring it back up like I did when I first had to drink barium 2+ years ago when I was first diagnosed with cancer.

Nobody puts WCK in the corner

My mom was right: No good can come from letting your child watch Dirty Dancing. Granted, I only let her watch about 30 seconds of a YouTube clip, but I blame myself for this latest development.

Just as in the movie, my innocent daughter is in love with a rebellious, devil-may-care older man. He lives next door. He is eight. I don't know if he can dance, but he can ride a bike without training wheels.

The affair started over the weekend, when Neighbor Boy was lured into our yard by WCK's new playhouse. He and WCK ended up playing together for about an hour or so. He was so unlike any of the men her own age, and he broadened her horizons: He taught her how to play "Duck, Duck, Goose."

The next day, Neighbor Boy and his family went out of town for a week, and WCK has been pining away ever since. She calls him on the toy phone several times a day and keeps asking me when he is coming back. She always wants to play "Duck, Duck, Goose", which isn't quite the same when you only play with two people.

Just before bedtime last night, she announced, "Mommy, I love (name of Neighbor Boy)."

I just hope we aren't having this same conversation when she is 15 and he is sitting in my driveway on the back of a Harley.

Thalidomide Shows Promise For Treatment Of Recurrent Ovarian Cancer, Study Suggests

Thalidomide Shows Promise For Treatment Of Recurrent Ovarian Cancer, Study Suggests

Having the time of my life

WCK is officially corrupted. Here is the full story: My child recently started "helping" put the dishes away. She stands on the counter and we hand her plates and bowls from the dishwasher, and she puts them in the cupboard. This means that putting the dishes away takes approximately 10 hours, but it is one of her favorite activities. When she is done with the dishes, she leaps off of the counter into my arms, flings her legs up high, stretches out her arms, and tells me she is a "fancy dancer". We then dance around the kitchen while I sing "Time of My Life." Last night, she sang the whole song on her own, grinning uncontrollably. It was the FUNNIEST. THING. EVER.

I know this must make me a terrible mother. Dirty Dancing was released when I was 12 years old. It was rated PG-13. My parents had a Horribly Strict Rule that I was not allowed to see PG-13 movies until I was actually 13. This was The Most Unfair Thing In The World back then, although WCK won't be allowed to see PG-13 movies until she is at least 35. Because Dirty Dancing was all the rage, though, and because I would clearly die if I couldn't go see it, my parents said they'd watch it first. If it was OK, I'd be allowed to see it.

My parents went to see the movie, and somehow (barely) managed to escape from the theater alive, although they might have temporarily lost their eyesight from the horrible things leaping off the screen. The verdict: This was a movie SO EVIL that I could not see it now; I could not see it when I turned 13; I. COULD. NOT. SEE. IT. EVER.

Some years later, my parents went out for the evening and I secretly watched it on cable. I was not struck by lightning. And now my mom thinks it is a "cute" movie. Where was this attitude in 1987?

Anyway. Now WCK has been officially corrupted by Dirty Dancing, although I couldn't get her to watch the above clip on YouTube for longer than a few seconds. "Where are the dinosaurs, Mommy?" she said. "Where are the dinosaurs? Where are the dinosaurs? Where are the dinosaurs?"

Miss Manners

Today, WCK and I were driving to Subway for a gourmet dinner when WCK piped up in the back seat.

"I have good manners, Mommy," she said.

Ah, I thought. This would be an excellent time for an "educational" conversation.

"What are you supposed to say after you burp?" I asked her.

WCK thought for a minute.

"Thank you for the food."