Good news, bad news

Sometimes, it's just easier to focus on stupid little things. When your life is full of big messy problems with no easy answers, or heck, no answers within  your control at all, it's just easier to focus on stupid little sh*t which annoy you, instead of things that are large and unmanageable like the national debt -- or you know, a continuing health saga.

So the easy little nit to be annoyed at is that I was a mere $25 short of my AvonWalk total to get a "free" running shirt, which wicks moisture. TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS! I am a freaking idiot.

You see, once I decided it would be more sensible (duh) to switch to the May 2010 Boston AvonWalk because my radiation treatment would still be going on during the October 2009 NYC AvonWalk (the original estimated end date, back in the spring, was end of September; I actually finished more than a week after the NYC walk) I kind of got distracted from my fundraising. Also, the transfer paperwork to switch to the Boston Walk -- which STILL isn't completed yet! -- was (and is) still utterly confusing.

So, I blew it for lack of $25 out of $3,600. Twit.

Yes, I know that the overall goal of fundraising for breast cancer treatment and research is worthy (do NOT get me started on that [CENSORED] bullsh*t non-governmental panel suggestion that mammograms for women under 50 is unnecessary -- THAT gets its own vitriolic posting! a**holes) but I got fixated on that racewalker shirt for some reason.

I suppose I will just have to focus on my 2010 NYC total instead. That would be October 2010, since I am not going to bug everyone again for May AND October.

Okay, on to more cheerful topics, like my 5th anniversary at work. It was on December 20th. Amazing. Especially considering the spectacular flameout of the financial sector this past year.

And when I told my mom about the occasiona, she was so surprised that she uttered the equivalent of a teenager's "Get! Out!" but of course in Shanghainese, and not quite in that phrasing. Heh.

I had kind of forgotten, but my coworkers hadn't, and sweetly surprised me on Monday afternoon with a little cookie, brownies (WW brownies -- they're not sadistic, since weigh-in is TODAY!) and chips party that they put together. See? SQUIRREL cookies! Heheheh.

And since I will be on vacation until January 6th after this Thursday, it was a combined (and unexpressed) birthday surprise luau. (One of my coworkers is of a religious persuasion which does not celebrate birthdays, so we didn't specifically mention my birthday on Monday.) But that whole effort was very sweet of them, no?

Now, I had better finish getting ready for work so that I can stay employed!

Pink Glove Dance

My old boss sent me this, and it is FABULOUS (but I could be biased).

In any case, I think it is sweet, funny, touching, and smile-inducing. (It also made me all sniffly, but then, almost anything does that these days.)

According to the director, after one million hits, Medline will make a donation to the hospital.  The current count is over 5,000,000 :-)

Oh, and anyone who knows the song, please tell me, as I am woefully having not the musical clue these days.

Running a blitz

So I've discovered that probably the least painful way to "watch" the NY Giants lately (when I remember) is to put it on TV on mute, and listen to WNYE-FM (currently playing The Brazilian Music Hour, after an hour of Putamayo World Music, and shortly to be starting Mo'Glo) or WNYC (vicarious food thrills on Sunday nights with The Splendid Table, where Thomas Keller was the guest tonight). Of course, if they're on during the afternoons, I have to find other audio wallpaper to cover the car wreckage.

But no, I didn't spend all evening on the couch covering my eyes. Actually, I finally cleaned out my fridge tonight, since there were items in there that were older than my niece's children. (You think I kid, but some of the expiration dates were truly eyebrow-raising. Trust me.) There are now visible areas on the shelves. Shocking.

I also made some turkey spinach lasagna for tomorrow night, when I will feed my friend Sam "a home cooked meal" (vs. his usual quick meal a la Trader Joe), complete with some previously frozen dough I made from King Arthur Flour's chewy chocolate cookie recipe. (Bonus: I managed not to have a serving of the lasagna, despite the yummy smell, since I had already had dinner!)

As I may have mentioned before, I once asked Sam's sister Sarah what foods he may prefer. She responded wryly that as a bachelor he will like anything I make for him. Heh. Nonetheless, I did check with him that the turkey spinach combo was acceptable. The lasagna also was the impetus for the fridge cleaning, since I needed room to store it overnight!

Between the frosty (9 degree windchill) and/or wet weather lately (rained 3 out of the last 7 days), and going out for some veal lasagna with Sam last week (yes, I am an unreformed carnivore AND politically incorrect) at Lasagna Ristorante (tip to my NYC pals: don't order anything else except what the place is named after and you'll be much happier) I had the overwhelming urge to make lasagna tonight.

Our comfort food cravings were also satisfied when I treated us to dinner last night at Skinner's Loft in JC where my sweetie had strozzapreti with pork ragu, and I had apple cider-brown ale braised pork shank. Oooooh... SO. GOOD. And both were gigantic enough to feed both of us again today.

The evening was also enhanced by the grown up atmosphere at the restaurant -- subdued jazz music in the background, with a fireplace insert, exposed brick, and good service -- which invariably also has delicious food. You can see why it's one of our favorites in his neighborhood.

And during those periods when I'm not crying like a NFL player on the team that loses the Super Bowl, I can occasionally have some sane moments. Thank g*d. So tonight my engineer and I had another Talk (we had one last weekend too) and that also helped both of us defuse some stress.  Hooray!

So I can now retroactively rationalize, er, I mean -- justify my purchase recently of Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol. 1 which was on sale at Amazon for US$20 last week.  At 50% off,  I couldn't resist ordering it. (By the way, it is now $19.00 or 53% off! Holy...!)

And the other book is a cookbook from the pottery studio formerly known as the NYC YWCA Craft Students league, which has since morphed into the Brickhouse Ceramic Art Center where we've just wrapped up the last week of classes for the semester. I think the studio director was cleaning house before this weekend's holiday show and sale, so there was a sign on the counter last week: "FREE!! Take one!" Offering me a free cookbook... how could I resist?

Okay, long past time for bed!

Brain cramp

Alas, it turns out that the restaurant is booked tonight for a private party, so it will have to be another time. However, I am looking forward to eventually watching the deer feed while we feed ourselves.

Of course, I am such a city girl, and all I can think while looking at that photo are the following:

• Wow! They're so close!
• Clearly they're used to the silly humans enclosed in that weird glass and wood box.
• Thank goodness for the glass keeping the deer ticks away -- no Lyme disease potential!

Oh well. Another time. My engineer has promised me a raincheck. Thank goodness he called first so that we found out BEFORE the drive!

Perhaps I will go take a nap before I go meet him for dinner as I am exhausted, since I was up late noodling around online (because I'm stupid) and yet was not able to sleep in because there was some frakkin' protest march outside my window ... AT 8:15 ON A SATURDAY MORNING! In Spanish! Bah! And once I was awake, that was it -- no drifting back off for me.

Since I was doing dumb things like showing up for work yesterday morning... instead of for my follow up appointment at the hospital with the radiation oncologist! DOH! So after going all the way downtown to the office from my apartment (130 blocks or so), being greeted by my coworkers with surprise ("Hey, don't you have a doctor's appointment this morning?"), going all the way back uptown to the hospital (90 blocks or so), and then going BACK to the office afterward (another 90 blocks or so, past the big Christmas tree in front of the NY Stock Exchange) all in 9 degree wind chill [ bonus! ] ... since I was doing dumb sh*t like that, then perhaps extra rest wouldn't be bad.

I was trying to count up my platoon of doctors this morning and lost track (post.chemo brain + menopause brain = slow moving brain) so here it is written down to help my noggin count:

1. oncologist (a/k/a she who I will be visiting regularly for the rest of my life, or until she retires -- whichever comes first)
   
2. radiation oncologist (a/k/a physician in charge of my medical sunburn -- and she is a TINY Asian woman)
3. breast surgeon (once a year, forever)
   
4. my regular physician / GP (it turns out that HE was the one I kept forgetting since I've only seem him ONCE this year! a piffle, compared to everyone else)
5. eye doctor
6. dentist
   
7. gynecologist (a/k/a she who found my lump)
8. psychiatrist (a/k/a seen 3x/year for Rx)
9. therapist (not technically a physician, but keeps me from cracking up, so hey -- KEY!)
10. all of their attendant staffs: nurses, assistants, receptionists... ay! (all except #9, who is a solo practitioner)
    

Healthcare insurance anyone?

Oh, and it turns out that my boob is still radioactive, and will be for several months! There is even a temperature differential between my left and right torso, which is kind of freaky, if you think about it.

On the bright side, she (#2) is quite pleased with my physical progress (I will spare you all the gross details though -- remember: this is all relative to what's gone on before, so er... let's leave out the word pictures, okay?) and has given me a one year check up appointment (vs. any earlier).

Okay, time for this geriatric to have a nap before dinner!

Potato power!

Happy Hanukkah! Or happy Chanukkah! Or... well, pick a spelling. Last night was the first night of the Festival of Lights and I REALLY want some latkes... yum! Mmmmm... potatoes. And then: FRIED potatoes... ooooh! Well, what other reaction can you expect from someone who went on solitary vacations to Ireland -- twice?

So yes, the other weekend, my friend Ellen and I saw this spectacularly, um, eye-catching menorah during a walk on the UWS (there is a tiny, old-school toy/stationery shop on West 72nd Street that had this in their window) and I thought, "Well, hey -- gotta grab me a photo of THAT! Words won't do it justice." Yes, you too can own this "Musician Menorah" as the box calls it.

Or you can buy a handcrafted set like this cute grouping of animals that is being sold at the holiday show at my pottery studio (i.e., the place where I currently take classes -- it is SO not owned by me) which is going on this weekend.

There are many more photos linked to my Facebook page. Those of you who know my name can go there. Those of you who don't have a FB account, I can send you a link if you ask, that does not require you to join to view the photos.

Gotta run, hop in the shower, and head to JC in a few minutes because my engineer is driving us down to the Delaware water gap for dinner as a treat: there is a restaurant he knows that [I think ] is set in the woods and faces a salt lick, so while humans dine on cooked food, the deer come graze at the salt lick (and no, I will NOT be ordering venison -- even if they have it on the menu -- for those sickos who've asked! but then, that's why you're my friends *snarf*)

Bye for now!

Happier times

So on Monday night, I was at my mom's place, and I finally managed to get my old laptop up and running. Thanks to one of her neighbors ( amazingly, there are people who still run unsecured home networks ) I was able to log on briefly and waste some time on FaceBook. Heh.

I also took a quick look through the hard drive of the laptop, something which I apparently haven't done since Fall 2007!

One of the things I found was this photo from Christmas of 2004, where my brother-in-law, his siter, and HIS brother-in-law were goofing around and spontaneously hit the classic 3 monkeys pose. (My brother-in-law is Speak No Evil.) Luckily, I must've had my camera handy at that moment, because voila! A snapshot of a happier time, before our family ended their long streak of good health.

The photo makes me simultaneously happy (or perhaps more accurately, nostalgic) and sad, since my brother-in-law is now well advanced in his Alzheimer's. (His symptoms appear to fit Stage 6 and there are only 7 stages altogether.) My younger niece tells me that it may be that he is suffering concurrently from another disease which is accelerating his decline.

I will not go into the many details here, except to say that his symptoms have made my sister's life very difficult, so I am grateful that her two eldest children live nearby and can help her when she just is at the end of her rope. Since they each have their own families to take care of (between them, there are 3 children under the age of 4) these stopgap measures are still very stressful for everyone concerned.

Conversely, her grandchildren (whose photos I have proudly posted here in the past) bring joy and light into my sister's life every day, so that she is not constantly surrounded only by decay and disease. I understand more viscerally now why my mother insists that families need children. (I haven't told mom yet about The Change coming to visit me, although she can do the math and knows 5 years of tamoxifen mean I will never have any biological offspring. And no, that does not mean I am contemplating adoption either.)

Anyway, when I think of the psychological and emotional (but not legal or physical) widowhood that my sister endures every day, I understand why my mom yells at me to "not bother your sister with ANYthing!" since it is her only way of venting and being able to help my sister.

Between that, my stupid hormones, and all of the many other things that have been going on, I thought, "You know, it is really a shame that my sister and I were raised so that we never say I love you" (although my sweetie has broken me of that habit in his case). So as I sniffled my way through a phone call the other night, I told my sister that although I never SAY it aloud, I do love her very much.

It made me smile when she muttered, "Me too" since those were the only words I could bring myself to reply to my engineer on the phone at first. (He would then laugh affectionately at my embarrassment.) So I told him about it and that now I knew how he felt back then. HA! (And yes, more amusement from Le Engineer upon that newsflash.)

Okay, now that I have unburdened myself somewhat, and shared a HAPPY photo, it is definitely after lunch time for me.

Holiday-free zone

Yesterday morning started off with a bang (in a manner of speaking) since I evidently ate something that really didn't agree with me, making the 16 subway stops to my office feel like an eternity. Thankfully, I managed to make it to my building and then my floor without mishap, whereupon I dashed to the ladies room straight from the elevator and we'll leave the word picture right there, at the door, thankyouverymuch.

The physical misery made an interesting (and semi-merciful) change from the hormonal hell I have been experiencing lately. Honestly, the hot flashes and night sweats aren't so bad, but the emotional schizophrenia from the hormone wackiness is horrible. It makes me feel like I have no control over my sanity, which is worse than any of the physical discomfort. Yes, one deluxe menopausal combo pack, delivered direct to my doorstep. Yum.

I am always tired these days, or hormonally crazed, because chemo really is the gift that keeps on giving (one of its more morbidly humorous nicknames) since I have leapfrogged directly over my older girlfriends to get a giant head start on menopause. So my body is crazed (3 week periods, 1 week off) and I am a nervous wreck because my hormone levels are always out of whack (the urge to sob wildly at the drop of a hat is NOT my normal state of mind). Once I am DONE with menopause, it will be good (less estrogen to feed any hidden cancer cells) but in the meantime, I feel crappy all the time. Unfortunately, I don't know when that happy DONE day will be.

I imagine that the next several months will not be much better, pharmaceutically speaking, since my oncologist and pill doctor agree about the tamoxifen conflict flagged by the pharmacist (so no, I haven't started taking it yet). Evidently, there is some metabolic conflict between my Wellbutrin and the tamoxifen, so my options are: keep the antidepressants but don't take the anti-cancer drug, OR, take the anti-cancer drug and mess around with a neuropharmacological balance it's taken me years to achieve. THESE are my choices?!

Now when people commented on my previously chipper, perky, and positive attitude throughout my treatment this year, this does not mean that the Wellbutrin made me artificially happy. It just prevented me from sinking into the (a)pathetic heap I tend to become when left to my own devices.

You see, I have been taking it for years because otherwise I tend to get clinically depressed and: stop eating (I mean altogether -- not in that dieting kind of way people joke about), sleep all the time / have perpetual insomnia, cry constantly, lose the ability to concentrate, lose the energy to get dressed, much less leave the house (kind of an important factor in remaining employed, no?) and generally think I'm just a useless human being -- ALL THE TIME. Every time I stopped in the past (under doctor's supervision), sooner or later I wound up a soggy mess, and after a few years of trying, I just gave up and decided pills were the way to go.

So yes, once again, I get to go on that delightful merry-go-round of "let's try this anti-depressant and see if it works OR screws you up too badly" since, well, my pill doctor and I both agree that cancer trumps depression (although at this rate, cancer is going to CAUSE [menopausal] depression).

You can see why I am not looking forward to more pharmacological experimentation until I find an effective AND well-tolerated replacement. Just read the package insert / warning label for side effects if you want to know what I mean about well-tolerated, like this one. Consider also that it takes weeks at a time to figure out the results for each new formulation I may have to try.

We are not even going to get into all of the emotional repercussions -- for my whole family -- arising from my brother-in-law's severe Alzheimers as that subject alone... well... I just can't deal with thinking about it all right now (and do you know how selfish and weak I feel saying that?) -- so yeah, not feeling festive this December.

I have not bought a single present. Not sure I will either. And as for cards, I haven't even checked my stash to see if I need to order more. And I think my little tree will stay in the closet. Maybe if I feel really energetic one evening I'll buy a wreath. But doubtful. Yup, despite reading A Christmas Carol (yes, THE Christmas Carol by Dickens) for one of my book clubs, I am feeling like pre-reformation Scrooge.

One mental anchor I'll be clinging to when I feel that I may lose it in the next few weeks is the thought of TWO WEEKS OFF. I had put in for vacation during the last week of December, but this past weekend I realized that perhaps taking off 2 solid weeks might have a geometrically more beneficial effect upon my sanity. Ergo, I am thinking the first week of January as well, since hey, I do have the accrued time from this year. My engineer and I had been talking about going away but I'm not sure that is in the cards, due to financial and logistical issues. We'll see (but don't hold your breath). In the meantime, he and I are talking about day trips here and there instead.

And just because it seems truly cruel to force you to endure my lengthy whining without any visual distraction, I am throwing in photos from my March 2008 vacation in Vegas. The appropriately ominous top photo is from Valley of Fire or Red Rock Canyon (I forget which) and the bottom one was taken on the grounds of the Flamingo Las Vegas. I just thought the reflections and ripples turned out to be really cool.

Buttercups and bananas

I guess you might say parts of this post are dedicated to my friend Margaret, what with a photo of the UWS location of Buttercup Bake Shop, their supertasty banana pudding (which I shared with my friend Ellen the other day) and a final one of her adorable baby boy, born October 1st.

Of course, it could also be my sadistic streak in showing her a bakery she can no longer visit... but hey, would I do THAT? ;)

Actually, food is kind of an unfortunate subject, since I overate tonight. Ooooh... I feel like I swallowed a bowling ball. On the plus side, I managed not to eat all of the fries, and subbed a turkey cheeseburger for a moo-cow cheeseburger. On the minus side, I ate the whole, NYC-diner-portion, an almost frisbee-sized burger. [*burp*] I guess the fact that it has been a really long time since I felt THIS overstuffed (no, not even during any of my Thanksgiving dinners) means that in general I have been diligently following the rules of moderation helpfully outlined by WW.

I will have to remember this unhappy feeling the next time I am tempted to overindulge. Indulging per se is fine and dandy. Eating like I'm a pro linebacker, not such a good idea.

On a more positive and productive note, I was playing kitchen cabinet tetris over the holiday weekend, and rearranging my cupboards, which normally had precariously stacked mounds of pots, pans, and containers behind each door. I was pretty pleased with the end result, which not only fit everything I wanted, but was organized in a logical manner, with the least frequently used objects on the top shelf, etc.

Also very satisfying was my progress in clearing out counter space so that I have more workspace for prepping food, which will be especially helpful now that the company cafeteria in our building has closed (just in time for cold weather -- natch) and I am just too darn lazy to walk several blocks overs to our other downtown building. Luckily, I would say that even before the lunchroom closed, I'd been bringing my lunch about 80% of the time.

And although it is tempting to once again skip discussing the latest medical developments in the apparently neverending saga that is the joy of boob cancer treatment, I will bite the bullet tonight and just give the highlights.

Remember how I mentioned that I will be taking tamoxifen for the next 5 years to minimize the risk of recurrence? Well, it apparently conflicts with another medication I am taking, so the pharmacy will not release it to me yet. Now, my oncologist is conferring with my other physician and they are trying to figure out what to do, once they stop playing phone tag.

In the meantime, I have also discovered the results of my oh-so-fun endometrial biopsy, and will skip all of the many multisyllabic medical terms and sum it up as: the answer really is 42, if the question is "when do I start menopause?"

The chemo has probably hastened the winding down of my biological clock, and less estrogen (post-menopause) is better for me, since my cancer is estrogen-positive, but I have to admit, "The Menopause" (as my sweetie's mom calls it) has thrown me for a loop, since well, that really kicks me firmly over into "you're middle-aged" territory. Plus, the endless cycles (I have supplies stashed at home, my mom's place, my engineer's apartment, the office, and my purse) are damn annoying, with particularly vicious spikes in mood due to wildly fluctuating hormone levels.

Speaking of crazy, my mom is feeling better these days, since she is back to complaining about everything under the sun, especially anything my sister and I do about getting her better medical care.

I'm signing off with a photo of baby du jour (my older niece is due again in May), who is really pretty darn cute. (By the way, the compressed version of the photo is a bit blurry, but if you click on it, it will open full size and crystal clear.) We had a very nice time during my jaunt out to Lawn Guyland to see Margaret and her men (they were visiting her husband's family for the holiday). I also thanked Margaret during the visit for having such a cute bambino so I wouldn't have to lie when I made admiring noises about his adorability. Heh.