Monday, June 19, 2006
Latest Update...
It’s been awhile since I updated. I am doing well. My last chemo was May 8th and I got through it with no mishaps. Mike accompanied me to the last day. They had removed my port during the hospital stay and the chemo was given intravenously through my arm. In case any problems resulted, I wanted my personal physician with me.
Two days later I was privileged to attend poetry readings at the Paramount by Maya Angelou. My good friend, Judy, invited me and took two of my friends also. It was a great evening. The audience was packed and Maya was inspirational. She talked about friends being rainbows in the clouds of life. I know that is how I feel when you, all, stepped forward after I was given my diagnosis.
Radiation began June 5th. I am now through 10 treatments with 20 left to go. One third is done! The radiation is done in 3 parts. The first takes about 10 seconds and the others about 35 seconds. The set up takes the longest but I’m usually in and out in a half hour. So far side effects are minimal but I understand that the last few weeks mayl be painful.
When I finished chemo, my energy level was low and I was tired. I’m working to regain my strength. Radiation also drains me and gives me fatigue. However my faithful friend, Carolyne and husband, Mike make sure I get my 2 mile walk in daily and take turns accompanying me.
My friend, Sandy, came over a few months ago to teach me how to play a card game, Phase 10. Well that game day grew and we asked a few others to join us and last Thursday we had 7 players and two , who didn’t make it. So now I have a card group and play Phase 10, Dominoes and several other games. It does keep my mind functioning and we enjoy the company and challenges. Years ago, I tried Bridge and failed miserably. I’ve also been asked to join a Book Club so that will be fun.
I am getting braver about just wearing a baseball cap in public and forgetting the wig. Now that it is summer, my wigs and scarves are hot and my head sweats. It’s much cooler to go without anything on my head. However, the sad looks I get are unnerving . The stories of everyone’s wife , mother or friend going through chemo are also depressing. It is sort of like taking the twins to the mall in a stroller. Back then (23 years ago) , I was stopped by everyone with a twin story. Katryn refused to go as some assumed she was the mother and I was the Grandmother. I was 38 and Katryn was a very mature looking 14.When I was away last weekend in San Diego, I experimented going bald as I didn’t know anyone but family that were there. Mike rented a convertible and I tried to get my head tanned as it’s ghostly white compared to the rest of me. I didn’t let my grand kids see me bald even though my daughter-in-law, Barbara assured me that they would think it was cool.
Eyebrows are now about 1/2 inch and lashes, though sparse are still there! Yeah! Best part is that I don’t have to shave legs or worry about a mustache.
Spoke too soon! This AM( 6/17), I awoke to 1/4” of eyebrows and eyelashes with large empty spots in them. I was excited that chemo hadn’t touched them but Radiation seems to obliterate them. I know that they will grow back but it was neat to think they had survived because of my tender care. ( I put conditioner on them daily!)
Boobs or the lack of them are a different story. I now have several different sizes so I can decide with each outfit if I want to be a C cup or D cup or AAA-.. There are the waterproof bathing suit ones, the expensive heavy ones and the lightweight comfortable ones. The problem with the latter is that they keep shifting during the day and end up around my neck or under my arms, an hour after I adjust them. The heavy ones keep drooping so I’ right back where I was before my breasts were removed. I do need to wear them as my belly is quite prominent either due to treatment, steroids or age. I need to balance the “Santa Claus” effect.
Last weekend, we flew To Southern California where our son, Josef married Jennifer Hernandez. It was a small quiet affair with her family and our boys in attendance. Barb, my daughter-in-law, arrived with a beautiful bouquet for the bride and corsages for the two moms. The bride was beautiful. The groom was handsome. More than a few eyes watered. Joe and Jenn had us back to their apartment for a barbecue following the ceremony. Jenn had just driven across country from her home in Virginia. before the ceremony. Joe had furnished the apartment and did a great job. They are steps away from pool where I’m sure they will spend many hours in the San Diego climate.
I was only gone for 3 days, 2 nights but it was fun to get away. On Sunday, we visited Barb, Erik and grandchildren at their new weekend get away. It’s a lovely condo on the water in Coronado and it’s beautiful, comfortable and fun. It was a fabulous day and we took their boat out and watched our sons water ski.
We decided with two sons in San Diego, we’d spend Thanksgiving there and Mike will take us all to Hotel Coronado for Thanksgiving Dinner. It beats “Over the river and thru the woods” for me. Barb and Erik have graciously offered the condo to us for the holiday.
This weekend, we will be in Spring Lake, for my brother Mike’s wedding . All my siblings will be there and my two daughters, Ingrid and Maiken are joining us Saturday for a visit. I have been given Friday off from radiation, so I’ll have a 3 day weekend. I am not looking forward to the plane ride but am delighted about seeing everybody.
Two days later I was privileged to attend poetry readings at the Paramount by Maya Angelou. My good friend, Judy, invited me and took two of my friends also. It was a great evening. The audience was packed and Maya was inspirational. She talked about friends being rainbows in the clouds of life. I know that is how I feel when you, all, stepped forward after I was given my diagnosis.
Radiation began June 5th. I am now through 10 treatments with 20 left to go. One third is done! The radiation is done in 3 parts. The first takes about 10 seconds and the others about 35 seconds. The set up takes the longest but I’m usually in and out in a half hour. So far side effects are minimal but I understand that the last few weeks mayl be painful.
When I finished chemo, my energy level was low and I was tired. I’m working to regain my strength. Radiation also drains me and gives me fatigue. However my faithful friend, Carolyne and husband, Mike make sure I get my 2 mile walk in daily and take turns accompanying me.
My friend, Sandy, came over a few months ago to teach me how to play a card game, Phase 10. Well that game day grew and we asked a few others to join us and last Thursday we had 7 players and two , who didn’t make it. So now I have a card group and play Phase 10, Dominoes and several other games. It does keep my mind functioning and we enjoy the company and challenges. Years ago, I tried Bridge and failed miserably. I’ve also been asked to join a Book Club so that will be fun.
I am getting braver about just wearing a baseball cap in public and forgetting the wig. Now that it is summer, my wigs and scarves are hot and my head sweats. It’s much cooler to go without anything on my head. However, the sad looks I get are unnerving . The stories of everyone’s wife , mother or friend going through chemo are also depressing. It is sort of like taking the twins to the mall in a stroller. Back then (23 years ago) , I was stopped by everyone with a twin story. Katryn refused to go as some assumed she was the mother and I was the Grandmother. I was 38 and Katryn was a very mature looking 14.When I was away last weekend in San Diego, I experimented going bald as I didn’t know anyone but family that were there. Mike rented a convertible and I tried to get my head tanned as it’s ghostly white compared to the rest of me. I didn’t let my grand kids see me bald even though my daughter-in-law, Barbara assured me that they would think it was cool.
Eyebrows are now about 1/2 inch and lashes, though sparse are still there! Yeah! Best part is that I don’t have to shave legs or worry about a mustache.
Spoke too soon! This AM( 6/17), I awoke to 1/4” of eyebrows and eyelashes with large empty spots in them. I was excited that chemo hadn’t touched them but Radiation seems to obliterate them. I know that they will grow back but it was neat to think they had survived because of my tender care. ( I put conditioner on them daily!)
Boobs or the lack of them are a different story. I now have several different sizes so I can decide with each outfit if I want to be a C cup or D cup or AAA-.. There are the waterproof bathing suit ones, the expensive heavy ones and the lightweight comfortable ones. The problem with the latter is that they keep shifting during the day and end up around my neck or under my arms, an hour after I adjust them. The heavy ones keep drooping so I’ right back where I was before my breasts were removed. I do need to wear them as my belly is quite prominent either due to treatment, steroids or age. I need to balance the “Santa Claus” effect.
Last weekend, we flew To Southern California where our son, Josef married Jennifer Hernandez. It was a small quiet affair with her family and our boys in attendance. Barb, my daughter-in-law, arrived with a beautiful bouquet for the bride and corsages for the two moms. The bride was beautiful. The groom was handsome. More than a few eyes watered. Joe and Jenn had us back to their apartment for a barbecue following the ceremony. Jenn had just driven across country from her home in Virginia. before the ceremony. Joe had furnished the apartment and did a great job. They are steps away from pool where I’m sure they will spend many hours in the San Diego climate.
I was only gone for 3 days, 2 nights but it was fun to get away. On Sunday, we visited Barb, Erik and grandchildren at their new weekend get away. It’s a lovely condo on the water in Coronado and it’s beautiful, comfortable and fun. It was a fabulous day and we took their boat out and watched our sons water ski.
We decided with two sons in San Diego, we’d spend Thanksgiving there and Mike will take us all to Hotel Coronado for Thanksgiving Dinner. It beats “Over the river and thru the woods” for me. Barb and Erik have graciously offered the condo to us for the holiday.
This weekend, we will be in Spring Lake, for my brother Mike’s wedding . All my siblings will be there and my two daughters, Ingrid and Maiken are joining us Saturday for a visit. I have been given Friday off from radiation, so I’ll have a 3 day weekend. I am not looking forward to the plane ride but am delighted about seeing everybody.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Happy Father's Day
Rainbow Pop
I am seven and have just endured a day of yard work under the tortuous leadership of my sadistic older brother Jeb. He hit Francine with the rake and she sulked in tears under the tree refusing to continue. Kay tried to smooth it over, but Jeb threw her in the pile of leaves. Miraculously, we somehow made enough progress for Dad to pile us into the back of the suburban and drive us down the street to the gas station where we each get to pick out our favorite flavor of rainbow pop. It is a sunny spring day and Jeb, Kay, Francine and I are all allies while we sip our pop out of old fashioned glass bottles leaning against the car in the gravel driveway. Dad buys a case and we all drive home. I get to sit in the front seat. Next to Dad.
Snot
The winter means ski trips and stolen moments with Dad on the chairlift between runs down Crystal mountain. Dad has me giving him a book report on Ramon Quimby, Age 8, which is one of my favorite books, because I am also eight. It's so cold that my nose is running and I can't feel it. He looks at me, removes a leather glove, pulls a Kleenex from a pack of tissues in his pocket and puts it over my face.
"You got a runny nose kid."
When he pulls it away, I feel as if half my face has been removed.
"Well you have snot icicles hanging from your moustache."
Devo
The Schmo residence is the first on the block to get MTV and my father has seen a video of a song he wants to find. Arriving at the door to Tower Records, he disperses his seven children with the mission to locate a cassette tape by a group of five or so men with slicked back hair, one wearing an oversized white suit jacket. We scour the store before I find a record cover with five men wearing funny red hats. He takes a look at it and declares the search over. He buys all of Devo's cassettes and once in the car, we play thirty seconds of every song, fast forwarding to the next to try and find the right tune. Dad doesn't have to try very hard to make the experience fun for everyone. By the time we arrive home, we have discovered that Devo is not the right band. Dad hands all the cassettes to me and Devo becomes my favorite eighties band of all time. Next week, we are watching MTV and the video reappears. Dad jumps off the couch. We kids sit with our jaws dropped, staring as our dignified and serious Neurosurgeon father uses his right hand to karate chop across his left forearm singing along with The Talking Heads, "...this aint my beautiful wife, these aren't my beautiful kids...".
Thanksgiving
It is the awkward years. Dad and I had not spent much time together since I had turned 16. I came home, he left the room. I phoned, he handed the receiver to my mother. We just didn't have much to talk about. But I insist on staying connected to the family and at least trying, no matter how disastrously I fail. This year, I have decided to make Thanksgiving dinner and include everyone in the event. The idea of his children in his kitchen messing up the order of his spice rack is enough for Dad to offer to take us all out to the Yacht Club for turkey and gravy. But I am determined. I've planned out the menu, assigned each sibling a dish, timed out the items and began chopping and prepping at nine AM that morning. Dad has been up since 5 am and coming in and out of the kitchen to periodically throw a discerning glance over my shoulder. As the afternoon wears on, each one of my siblings reluctantly begins their contributory dish. But then they get bored and leave the kitchen. So five various projects have begun in different corners of the kitchen. Dad enters, he sees me, I haven't left the kitchen since I arrived. I'm smiling. This is me happy.
He puts on an apron. We don't speak, at first. But he begins looking over my shoulder at the recipes and next I know he is beside me. Chopping. The other siblings wander into the room, Mom begins a puzzle on the kitchen table. Dad and I are rolling dough, talking about apple consistency. Tigersmiles is popping green beans over the sink. Joe begins peeling potatoes for his contribution of mashed potatoes. Georg is reading through his recipe, one step at a time. He thought he was making stuffing, but in the end it turns out to be a frisee salad.
Dad and I are working in tandem to have everything perfectly timed. I line the wok with oil, a few red pepper flakes, some garlic and a pinch of salt. He is over my shoulder with the beans ready to drop them on my cue.
"Not yet Dad. I'm letting the oil absorb the seasoning."
"Where did you learn that?"
"In culinary school."
I am seven and have just endured a day of yard work under the tortuous leadership of my sadistic older brother Jeb. He hit Francine with the rake and she sulked in tears under the tree refusing to continue. Kay tried to smooth it over, but Jeb threw her in the pile of leaves. Miraculously, we somehow made enough progress for Dad to pile us into the back of the suburban and drive us down the street to the gas station where we each get to pick out our favorite flavor of rainbow pop. It is a sunny spring day and Jeb, Kay, Francine and I are all allies while we sip our pop out of old fashioned glass bottles leaning against the car in the gravel driveway. Dad buys a case and we all drive home. I get to sit in the front seat. Next to Dad.
Snot
The winter means ski trips and stolen moments with Dad on the chairlift between runs down Crystal mountain. Dad has me giving him a book report on Ramon Quimby, Age 8, which is one of my favorite books, because I am also eight. It's so cold that my nose is running and I can't feel it. He looks at me, removes a leather glove, pulls a Kleenex from a pack of tissues in his pocket and puts it over my face.
"You got a runny nose kid."
When he pulls it away, I feel as if half my face has been removed.
"Well you have snot icicles hanging from your moustache."
Devo
The Schmo residence is the first on the block to get MTV and my father has seen a video of a song he wants to find. Arriving at the door to Tower Records, he disperses his seven children with the mission to locate a cassette tape by a group of five or so men with slicked back hair, one wearing an oversized white suit jacket. We scour the store before I find a record cover with five men wearing funny red hats. He takes a look at it and declares the search over. He buys all of Devo's cassettes and once in the car, we play thirty seconds of every song, fast forwarding to the next to try and find the right tune. Dad doesn't have to try very hard to make the experience fun for everyone. By the time we arrive home, we have discovered that Devo is not the right band. Dad hands all the cassettes to me and Devo becomes my favorite eighties band of all time. Next week, we are watching MTV and the video reappears. Dad jumps off the couch. We kids sit with our jaws dropped, staring as our dignified and serious Neurosurgeon father uses his right hand to karate chop across his left forearm singing along with The Talking Heads, "...this aint my beautiful wife, these aren't my beautiful kids...".
Thanksgiving
It is the awkward years. Dad and I had not spent much time together since I had turned 16. I came home, he left the room. I phoned, he handed the receiver to my mother. We just didn't have much to talk about. But I insist on staying connected to the family and at least trying, no matter how disastrously I fail. This year, I have decided to make Thanksgiving dinner and include everyone in the event. The idea of his children in his kitchen messing up the order of his spice rack is enough for Dad to offer to take us all out to the Yacht Club for turkey and gravy. But I am determined. I've planned out the menu, assigned each sibling a dish, timed out the items and began chopping and prepping at nine AM that morning. Dad has been up since 5 am and coming in and out of the kitchen to periodically throw a discerning glance over my shoulder. As the afternoon wears on, each one of my siblings reluctantly begins their contributory dish. But then they get bored and leave the kitchen. So five various projects have begun in different corners of the kitchen. Dad enters, he sees me, I haven't left the kitchen since I arrived. I'm smiling. This is me happy.
He puts on an apron. We don't speak, at first. But he begins looking over my shoulder at the recipes and next I know he is beside me. Chopping. The other siblings wander into the room, Mom begins a puzzle on the kitchen table. Dad and I are rolling dough, talking about apple consistency. Tigersmiles is popping green beans over the sink. Joe begins peeling potatoes for his contribution of mashed potatoes. Georg is reading through his recipe, one step at a time. He thought he was making stuffing, but in the end it turns out to be a frisee salad.
Dad and I are working in tandem to have everything perfectly timed. I line the wok with oil, a few red pepper flakes, some garlic and a pinch of salt. He is over my shoulder with the beans ready to drop them on my cue.
"Not yet Dad. I'm letting the oil absorb the seasoning."
"Where did you learn that?"
"In culinary school."
"Hm."
Dad cuts the onion up for Georg's stuffing/salad. He dices into identical thin slivers, his hand working the knife with expert precision.
"Where did you learn that?"
"Practicing on peoples brains."
"Nice."
Dad cuts the onion up for Georg's stuffing/salad. He dices into identical thin slivers, his hand working the knife with expert precision.
"Where did you learn that?"
"Practicing on peoples brains."
"Nice."
Grandpa's Fritters
I am home for Christmas and there is a strange older version of my father living in my parents house. Dad moved Grandpa home a few weeks after his 100th birthday. IÂ’ve met Grandpa three times in my life, and now he is shuffling about in a wing of my parents house, designed for his comfort and ease. Dad gutted two rooms, lay wood floors, and installed bars to make the bathroom handicap accessible.
Christmas morning finds my father up at 3 am to start making my Grandfather fritters the way my Grandmother used to make them. When Grandpa joins Dad in the kitchen, I can hear them talking as Dad buzzes about with the dough, the oil and the powdered sugar.
They talk for a few hours. No one talks to Dad for a few hours. You are lucky if you get a few minutes. I peek my head around the corner to stare. Yes, it's true, my father is someone elses son. A son who just wants to make his father happy. And I get that.
Half a Euro
I've just returned from a walk across Bryant Park to grab my lunch and head back to eat at my temporary desk located in the Board Room of the New York office of my firm. I'm sharing the room with four colleagues when my cell phone rings.
A deep and barely audible voice. "Hello from Italy."
"Who is this?"
"It's your father."
And I'm sure it is some imposter, because in thirty one years of life I have never once received a phone call from my father. And now, hundreds of miles away on a Rick Steves tour of Italy, my father has decided to place an expensive long distance call to me on his cell phone. To say hello. He must have gotten the number from my mother.
"Uh, hello."
"Jane, your mother and I are having a wonderful time in your country. And I wanted to let you know that you can call the search party off. Stop looking. I have found your future husband."
Now I am sure that our planet had been invaded by aliens that have taken my fathers human form and the man speaking to me is but a pod from some other world. My father didn't call me on the phone, he didn't address me by name, he didn't think of me when on vacation in Italy, and he certainly didn't care about the state of my love life. Unless it meant he had to pay for a wedding. Which he had already told me he had no intetnion of financing after I turned 30. No, this man was definitely not my father.
"That's great. I'm so relieved. Is the food good?
"Better than when you make it."
Maybe it was my father. And in the background I hear my mother saying, "Oh stop it Joseph. Be nice."
"So you are enjoying Italy?"
"Immensely. We have met the greatest group of people. But it's the tour director that I've picked out for you. He's seven feet tall. Right?"
And I hear a group of about twelve or so people chiming in behind him.
"And I know you like 'em tall. He's right here. I'll put him on."
"Dad. Dad. I'm at work. It's not really a good time." I look anxiously at the faces of my co-workers who pretend to be lost in their e-mail but are sucking up every word that I am saying.
I get up and start to head for an empty room in the office. But before I can find one, my Dad has put someone else on the phone.
"Buongiorno. I am Alfio. Your parents are delightful."
After a short chat, my father gets back on the phone.
"Dad. What is going on?"
"Don't worry honey, If you don't like him I've got a few more that I met in Germany. I gave them your e-mail so you could follow up with them at another time. But I took their photos so I could show you what they look like when I get home. So take care, we will likely call you again from France. Especially if we meet some men on the train."
There are howls of laughter in the background and I swear I hear the clinking of glasses, wine being poured and my father smiling.
"Okay then. Bye."
"Yes. Ciao. And Alfio says he will call you later."
I've just returned from a walk across Bryant Park to grab my lunch and head back to eat at my temporary desk located in the Board Room of the New York office of my firm. I'm sharing the room with four colleagues when my cell phone rings.
A deep and barely audible voice. "Hello from Italy."
"Who is this?"
"It's your father."
And I'm sure it is some imposter, because in thirty one years of life I have never once received a phone call from my father. And now, hundreds of miles away on a Rick Steves tour of Italy, my father has decided to place an expensive long distance call to me on his cell phone. To say hello. He must have gotten the number from my mother.
"Uh, hello."
"Jane, your mother and I are having a wonderful time in your country. And I wanted to let you know that you can call the search party off. Stop looking. I have found your future husband."
Now I am sure that our planet had been invaded by aliens that have taken my fathers human form and the man speaking to me is but a pod from some other world. My father didn't call me on the phone, he didn't address me by name, he didn't think of me when on vacation in Italy, and he certainly didn't care about the state of my love life. Unless it meant he had to pay for a wedding. Which he had already told me he had no intetnion of financing after I turned 30. No, this man was definitely not my father.
"That's great. I'm so relieved. Is the food good?
"Better than when you make it."
Maybe it was my father. And in the background I hear my mother saying, "Oh stop it Joseph. Be nice."
"So you are enjoying Italy?"
"Immensely. We have met the greatest group of people. But it's the tour director that I've picked out for you. He's seven feet tall. Right?"
And I hear a group of about twelve or so people chiming in behind him.
"And I know you like 'em tall. He's right here. I'll put him on."
"Dad. Dad. I'm at work. It's not really a good time." I look anxiously at the faces of my co-workers who pretend to be lost in their e-mail but are sucking up every word that I am saying.
I get up and start to head for an empty room in the office. But before I can find one, my Dad has put someone else on the phone.
"Buongiorno. I am Alfio. Your parents are delightful."
After a short chat, my father gets back on the phone.
"Dad. What is going on?"
"Don't worry honey, If you don't like him I've got a few more that I met in Germany. I gave them your e-mail so you could follow up with them at another time. But I took their photos so I could show you what they look like when I get home. So take care, we will likely call you again from France. Especially if we meet some men on the train."
There are howls of laughter in the background and I swear I hear the clinking of glasses, wine being poured and my father smiling.
"Okay then. Bye."
"Yes. Ciao. And Alfio says he will call you later."
Happy Father's Day!! There are many more memories, and many more yet made. Looking forward to cataloguing them all. -- Your favorite
Friday, June 09, 2006
Video
This weekend Joe and Jennifer are getting married... A chance for family to come together and celebrate! I expect a video dad.
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