The Exciting Day

1. The Phancy Phlebotomist

I had a blood test today on Ye Olde Cancer Floor at Fancy Hospital. The phlebotomists have always been nice and personal and usually talkative. There was one who'd had surgery for a repetitive motion disorder like carpal tunnel from gripping the test tubes. She said when she saw the hand surgeon in the hallway, her hand started hurting. There was another who always noticed my earrings when I went in for chemo. We were getting started today when another phlebotomist came by eating a shortbread cookie. The two of them talked about how tempting they were, and then my phlebotomist said she didn't mean to eat cookies and such but as soon as she sees them, she eats them. We commiserated about all the tempting foods out and about at this time of year and she told me she had to stop eating so much because she didn't want her New Year's Eve dress to be so tight on her that she looked like a whore, pardon my French. She told me she'd bought a dress on sale Marshall Field's in October or November five years ago, for $85, and it had sequins and ruffles on top and two tiers of material below her knees. It was going to be her New Year's Eve dress. But when the time came to put it on, it was too tight: Girl, she said, it looked like I had four titties and six booties.

So she didn't wear the dress that night. She's never worn it. It's still in the closet with the tags on. But she plans to. One day.


2. Whole Foods

The lady ahead of me in line told the cashier to put the food from the hot bar in a bag, and to give her the cookie. The cookie, she said, was for herself. The hot food was turkey tetrazini that she was going to give to a homeless man. He'd asked for spaghetti and meatballs and this was the closest she could find.

We say homeless and what does it mean? My undergraduates at Downtown University would use the word bum in their writing and I told them not to and I couldn't convince them I was right. They thought it was descriptive, not pejorative. I told them to describe the person instead. That way, the reader would have an image in her head. They could write homeless, but how could they know that was accurate unless they asked the person if s/he lived in a shelter? I suppose you can assume correctly that a person who is selling the StreetWise newspaper is homeless, or had to be when s/he first started hawking it. The point of selling it is to not be homeless forever, to use the selling job to get on your feet. Though at 75 cents take-home per sale, it might be a very long climb to self-sufficiency. Still, I say it: There was a homeless man...
I talked to a guy I know a couple of days ago in the Little Cafe Down the Street. I knew him from Cafe Avanti on Southport. He used to come in when he was tired or cold from selling the paper in front of the Jewel and do arcane astrology figuring. He sells StreetWise now in Evanston. He goes to the same church now as the owner of Avanti. When he saw me he told me Happy Hanukah. He said someone had stolen his books and he was trying hard to forgive them. We talked about Kabbalah and the colors of chakras. Is he still homeless? I don't know. I don't know where he lives. It sounded like his stuff had been stolen in a shelter, but he didn't come out and say that. Maybe he lives in an SRO. I didn't ask.


3. Yoga Party

Tonight my new yoga class had a party in an apartment two blocks from here. I'd been going to yoga three times a week at S Park (indoors), but when our beloved teacher J retired in August, the classes ended. Allegedly the park staff is still looking for her successor. How long does it take to find a yoga teacher in a big city? Apparently more than four months, if the people conducting the search work in the laziest, most patronage-heavy sector of local government. So I've been going on Wednesday nights to yoga at G Park, which is even a little closer to my house. The flyers about the party were handed out last week, our last class of 2007. I'd been skeptical about the party--I'd rather do yoga than have a party, but that wasn't the choice. I made a side dish, as assigned, and went. We told meeting-your-spouse/fiance stories. The yoga teacher works as a physical therapist who visits her clients at home. She was helping a man with cancer whose caretaker was a young Polish man who didn't know much English. The Pole was captivated by our teacher, by the way she was so focused on the patient she was working with, and so caring. And also that she was so beautiful. He suggested they get together. The premise was that he would teach her Polish, so she could speak to her Polish clients, and she would teach him English. The second time they went out he proposed they move in together. She assumed that he'd meant to say something else. But he hadn't. She said no. After a month he took her to her favorite restaurant and he gave her flowers and a small box. She opened the box and saw a diamond ring. She put it behind her back. She didn't want to see it. She told him it was too soon. He took her home. He kneeled and proposed to her in Polish, because he couldn't say what he wanted to in English. She said no and kept the ring for about a year. And then they decided it was time. That was this fall. They flew to Poland to see his family. She's from Taiwan. They'll visit her family next.

Story 2: When D was in high school, his family hosted a student from South America through the American Field Service. They stayed good friends. When D was divorced, he called his friend, now a doctor in his home country. His friend invited him to visit for three weeks. He did. He met the best friend of the friend's teenage daughter. That girl went home and told her mother (newly divorced) that she should meet this nice, handsome man from the United States. She did. She offered to show him around town. She gave him her card. The next morning she called his hotel room and said, Why haven't you called me yet? And she showed him around. They married about a year later and she moved here. At the party tonight, D passed around the business card she had given him when they met, eight years ago. He laminated it to preserve it. D is in the jewelry business and told our teacher he had never heard before of a woman keeping an engagement ring for a year without officially accepting it.

This yoga group is very tight. They went to Ravinia together last year. They met at a restaurant once. A few weeks ago we had people over here for Hanukah and M was saying that she thinks it's nice to have people you do an activity with but don't become friends with. She said, for example, she's glad just to see her yoga practitioners only at yoga. I had agreed at the time. At least I thought I'd agreed. Maybe I hadn't. In my old yoga class, there seemed to have been a group of Insiders who would hug J and ask about her daughter. These same people would talk before and after class with one another in a friendly, intimate manner. I wondered if they were friends before yoga. I think they were. After a few years J learned my name, and when I found out about my cancer and told her, I became one of the Insiders. At least I became Special. She sent me a get well card. My friend R (who I knew from Cafe Avanti) joined the class a couple of years after I did. I know he became friendly with a couple who came on Fridays, and he'd been to their house. I know this sounds like high school or grade school. But for a long while I was stymied by the already-set friendships in the class. It was like there was a clique I could never join.

There was one tall slim blonde in the Advanced class who one of my fellow Beginner classmates used to refer to the yoga goddess. The goddess worked as a chiropractor. And then she got cancer and it went to her brain and she died.

If there's one thing that cancer should be about---it's partying!

This was a really fun weekend--and I think everyone in my family soooo needed it! Thanks to everyone who came last night:

Dan
Bob (I mean, George...no, I mean Bob)
Larry
Roy
Gordy
Jim Julie + kids
Marty Letti + kid
Karen + kids
Heidy Greg + kids
May
Allan
Andy
Chris
Rob Tracy
Mark
Jamie
Jim Lou-Anne
Leeanne
Amy
Karrmen
Michael Anne
Debora Lynda
Linda
Joy Hillary
Paige Hart
Jenn
Katie
Janice
Jamella
George (the real george)
Coll Simon
Mama Baba

If you're not on this list--so sorry! I was wasted and all, that's my only excuse!

There was a lot of laughter and tears and drinking last night. I was so touched by all who showed up and also by those who couldn't make it but who emailed me their regrets. Here are some highlights--including the highlights in my hair! (Thanks especially to Jamie--who applied TWO bleach kits to my hair yesterday, down the roots while somehow miraculously not burning my scalp; Jenn and Katie--mistresses of the dye; and Katie once again, for packing sausage, cheese, crackers, wine, and god knows what else in her purse, along with loads of latex gloves.) Jenn was the photographer extraordinaire for these shots.

Me and bleach expert, Jamie


Me with Paige and Joy enjoying the mixture of fumes from my head and the wine


Sausage, cheese, dates, and crackers spread out on my toilet


Emerging from my bathtub...


It's not what it looks like--Amy's just drying my hair while I'm drinking wine while straddling my toilet...honest!


Karrmen and Amy stylin', while Saya and Jordy look on.


All dressed up--and yes, I am wearing fur in the middle of July! That's cuz you can do that in Vancouver, where the weather is sucky yuck.
Okay, so my dress was so freakin' open the whole time, and maybe I could lie and say that it was some statement about breast cancer, but let's be honest--I was completely shitfaced and had no idea that my white bra was completely hanging out, Britney Spears-style.

Me, with three ladies that rock: Jenn, Katie, and Chloe (who at the tender age of almost-four already looks completely ashamed to be my daughter)


The intricacies and complexities of my new hair!

Pre-Chemo Party--come colour brandy's hair!

Well, apparently, the three weeks I had before I start chemo aren't three weeks (is that grammatically correct? i can't tell. i mean, "three weeks" is one unit qualitatively speaking, so should it be "isn't" rather than "aren't"...?) anyway, the rest of my tests happen on July 30th and 31st, with an appointment to go over the results on August 1st, and from what the oncologist said, the chemo could start very soon thereafter. So, it's possible that my chemo will begin at the beginning of August.

Henry and I are going to Hawaii on Tuesday through Friday, and then Henry's off to LA for his brother's memorial service. The only time for a pre-chemo party is THIS SUNDAY, JULY 22ND. If you are in the Vancouver area and would like to see me before toxins are flushed into my body, please come to my house this Sunday. It's a cheese / wine potluck--and we will also bleach my hair white and dye it god-knows-what colour! A fun art project for all!!!! 6PM my house. If you don't know where I live, email me! And suggest a colour! I'm leaning toward electric blue, but am open to suggestions!