The Smallness of the World

Coincidence? Or not. You be the judge.

There are these ideas of "pay it forward" and "random acts of kindness".  I try to participate in these when I can.  But this isn't about tooting my own horn. This isn't about me at all. It's about the how it all happened. So in that spirit....

I try to make it a habit that when I donate to someone I know on Go Fund Me, I find a stranger to donate to also. I don't chose someone haphazardly, usually I look through the creative category or the "near me" filter. I scan the funds and find something that resonates with me. A dancer with a scholarship to the Alvin Ailey school. An independent film maker invited to show at a film festival in Europe. A woman with health issues living in my city fixing an old car as therapy (same model car as the first car I bought).
This time I start with the "near me" filter and scan through several pages, click on a handful of "read more" buttons, looking for one that just "feels right".  The only thing that makes me click on this particular one is their first name...Kitten.  Not strictly local, it's in SF...but close enough to check out anyway.   A story of starting over, in a safe place, away from an unsafe situation. It stirs enough in me to check out any links to get a further feel of "rightness". There is a link to a Facebook account, so I click and read about his story, snooping through the public posts. There is a lot of love and support being offered and appreciated, so far so good, but I'm still not convinced this is the "right" one. I see a comment, a rather blunt one, in a tough-love kind of way. It's from a person with a very common last name, but a little unusual of a first name. It is also the name of someone I was acquainted with (but not FB friends with), funny that there might be two of them. I don't for a second think it might actually be the same person.  But then I glance at the "Friends" list and see that Kitten and I do have a mutual friend. And because of how small the world is, and because our mutual friend once did a cancer run event in my honor, and because our mutual friend passed away much too young, and because I went to a memorial service this past weekend for another woman who passed away much too young because of cancer, I give a small donation to help Kitten with his new life.






Life is not a Disney ride

You Don't Have To Wear Pink

You don't have wear pink to be aware of breast cancer. You don't have to participate in any activity to be aware of breast cancer. You don't have to give money to be aware of breast cancer. All you have to do is know what to look for and keep checking yourself. And if ANYTHING seems odd, have it checked out. Want to spread awareness? Tell everyone you know to do the same. Doesn't cost a you thing and you may have helped someone out. 

Be aware with education.

Cheers!

I created a cocktail out of the leftover alcohol  I found stashed in the house.  Its been so long since I've mixed a drink I have no sense of proportion.  So, it's written in my own vernacular, alter to suit your taste.


Gotelli Hammer*
¾ glass tangerine juice from Trader Joe's
1 huge splash of Absolut Citron
1 small drizzle of Orange Curacao
1 smaller drizzle of Kirschwasser


Raise a toast to absent neighbors.  Add more tangerine juice.   Ahhhhhh!








*You know... instead of a Screwdriver.

Do Your Thing

Usually I hate commercials, but sometimes they nail it. Case in point, an ad running recently for Kaiser. Disclaimer here: I don't work for, with, patronize or utilize Kaiser. I just like the commercial, because it's...well... so ME, down to the expression on her face. And it does actually motivate me to "find my thing". It makes me smile every time I see it.





What's your thing?

Ex Animo

I used to write in a journal all the time.  I started in high school and continued to do so until about 13 years ago.  I can't explain why I stopped.  I know when I did, it was a very momentous time in my life.  It was a turning point, my whole life changed within a matter of days, hours even.  And for some unknown reason, I couldn't write in my journal about it.  I know because I tried.
And I never went back to writing in a journal like that again.  I have looked through some of my old ones and was shocked (and embarrassed?) to see I wrote about the SAME things over and over and over again.  I remember thinking, all that writing and nothing changed, so what's the point.  Fast forward many years and here I sit...writing.  But this is a "Blog" not a journal or a diary, right?  I don't write the deep dark obsessive crazy thoughts that occasionally surface in my head.  Because now I know I am not unique in having these kinds of thoughts.  Everyone does at some point or another with varying degrees of frequency.  I do write about personal things...kind of.  Most often I allude to them or make them into stories or metaphors (or fives).   So what is the difference?  Here, I write for a pretend audience.  Originally I did that because this is the Internet after all, one of THE most public places in the universe.  I would be uncomfortable, embarrassed to put myself out there like that.  But what is the point of writing if not for some personal benefit?  So, I don't write about what I did on my summer vacation.  I don't write about the food I eat, the clothes I wear, who I saw or talked to......unless I see something larger in it, some connection to something else.  I don't know why I started writing like this, but it has been so much more satisfying than all of the journals I filled for sooooooo many years about how unhappy I was with my life or what boy I was pining after or wondering what should I be doing with my life.  Because ultimately none of that mattered all due to that one point of time in my life that changed everything forever.  
So, let's bring this puppy back around full circle, shall we?  What is the point of this bit of writing today?  The thing that changed my life forever was cancer.  non sum qualis eram: I am not what I once was.  My vision of my life, my purpose, my path was totally blown up.  It pisses me off sometimes, I feel cheated, I feel angry often, I feel sorry for my self sometimes.  I have scars, I have pain, I am missing parts of my body, I am missing parts of my memories but I am lucky to be alive, lucky to have married the best man in the world for me, lucky that my family loves me (in their own strange way....see this written just in case any of them stumble on this post, can't be too sentimental here.  wink wink)   Still haven't come to the point of this post, have I?  I am going to leave it at that, because like I said before this Blog tends towards finding that bigger connection or message in every day things.  So, if this is being read by anyone else than me, it is up to you to figure out the connection that resonates for you.  As for me, I'm going to bed.






Non Sequitur

This Is Me Trying to Let Go

A few days ago a friend helped me plant a LB that was part of a "Memorial Plant Day" for a boxer called preboxed who died recently from cancer.  I don't know what kind she had, but I hate every form it takes.  Guess it has stirred some stuff up, this is what I just wrote on my Facebook page.  I'm putting it here too because "This is me trying to let go." 

It's been probably 7 years since she died.  They played "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole at her memorial.  I break down every time I hear it...still.  I also don't talk about it.  So...this is me trying to let go.
Patricia was my "cohort".  We were in a breast cancer support group together, it was part of a study to see what type of therapy is most beneficial to breast cancer patients, regular group vs. variety (group, art therapy, education, yoga, etc.)  After the initial study was over, she was the only I kept in touch with over time.  She kept in touch with everyone, she was the glue.  I went to a "Survivors Day" in GGP with a friend and met her there, because she was a fierce survivor and wanted to celebrate it.  Even when she had a recurrence.  The last time I saw her was several months before she died.  I met her at Kaiser and sat through a chemo drip with her.  We laughed and talked and talked and talked.  I talked with her on AOL for a while after that, but then she became quiet.  Then I got the email from her partner saying that she had died.  For about 6 months after her screen name would still pop up on the IM thingy they had then.  Every time, my gut reaction would be to smile and think "Hi Patricia!"...then I  would remember and realize it was her partner, taking care of the business of life.  
I went to her memorial alone.  Steven can't go to things like that, it hits too close to home for him, but I needed to go.  I was in pain with muscle spasms and in a mental fog.  Patricia.  Dead.  Damn.  I sat in the back of the Swedenborgen Church in SF and listened and cried and held hands with the strangers on either side of me.  Then I tucked it all in the back of my head and went on with life.  Until I would hear THAT song.  Then it all comes back, every time, just as strong, and I don't tell anyone.  Until now.  I miss my friend, Patricia.  I am afraid, too.   When will that be me?  Because someday, it will.  And no amount of good intentioned "get hit by a bus" pep talks people give doesn't change the fact that one of my "buses" has already turned the corner and is heading towards me and all I can do is hope I've gotten out of the way in time.




I haven't bought a ticket anyway.

Bunny Years

I have gotten through another December.  This one didn't numbered among the worst, but there certainly have been better.  I've never been a fan of the whole New Year's Day thingy, in fact I came upon the realization that the Monday after Christmas has always felt more like the beginning of the next "year".  I don't suppose I would ever be able to convince the rest of the world to change the calender....  A girl can dream though.  There is one thing that stands in the way of any "new beginning", a minor thing in and of itself, but everything hinges on it. Every now and again, with no discernible pattern, my blood tests come back with an elevated tumor marker.   Every time, the follow up test shows it is back down. The extra concern is that this is the highest it has ever been elevated.  "That's all I have say about that." (said like Forrest Gump).  There is another New Year coming up soon, the Year of the Hare begins soon and I just so happen to be a Hare! 


It's a bunny, I'm a bunny, wouldn't you like to be a bunny, too!

Plug Your Ears, It's Time For A Rant

Okay, a while back there was this "thing" on Facebook where women were posting a color in their status update.  Apparently, it was a little grassroots "meme" movement where you were supposed to post the color of the bra you were wearing.  Seemed like just a silly little thing, but then people are saying it was to raise awareness for Breast Cancer.   Okay, maybe it was or maybe it wasn't, but it was an interesting phenomenon that caught national attention. 
I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer in 1998 when I was 34 years old.  And let's just say they didn't "catch it early" (even though that was what people REALLY wanted me to tell them.)  And let's just say I am a statistical oddity for unknown reasons (i.e. "I am not dead yet.")  So I have a bit of a sensitivity when it comes to apparently random activities in the name of breast cancer.  I also have an irrational reaction to breast cancer awareness month.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I don't want awareness raised and I am not disapproving of any of these things.  But in my emotional, irrational brain I am screaming, "I am aware of breast cancer every @&%#ing day of my life!" 
There is NOT ONE DAY that goes by that I am not reminded that this disease forever and permanently changed the course of my life.  I am constantly reminded by the painful complications that occurred because of the long and laborious treatment that (so far) saved my life.  Every six months I am reminded of my mortality when they run tests to see if it has come back.  And none of this changes my appreciation and gratitude to everyone who fights for awareness/funds/laws that help prevent/treat/etc.  this sucky, sucky disease.  Remember, I fully own my irrational reaction, I know it's my own weirdness.
So here's the rant part.  For a while now, women have posted statements starting with "I like it...." with various locations added (e.g. on the dresser, in the closet, on the table.)  It is where women put their purse at home.  Ha ha ha, funny joke.  I didn't participate in this thing months ago and now it is back again.  I'm not participating in this go round either, because I don't carry a purse anymore.  I don't carry one because of the above stated complications from (wait for it).......breast cancer.   Here is where today's rant stemmed from, it is now being asserted that this "I like it...." thingy is for (wait for it)........breast cancer awareness!   WTF!  What does writing cryptic sexually suggestive status updates have to do with BREAST CANCER AWARENESS?  And whywhywhywhywhy would it mean that now, when people were doing this thingy months and months ago??  Just because it's October doesn't mean any random activity has to do raising awareness.  I find it a little insulting really.  If you really want to raise awareness then do something helpful not self serving.  Virtually waving your arms in the air and shouting "Look at memememe!" does not constitute something helpful.  It's just a way to get people to notice you.  I have nothing against these little "meme" things but it is pissing me off that people are trying to make it meaningful after the fact.  Just do it for fun and stop trying to make it something it is not. 




Ugh, I'm exhausted...

Running Out of Options

What are the options when the things you like to do are the very things that cause you pain and make it difficult or impossible to live the rest of your life?  Case in point:  I like to cook, knit, carve, sew, read, write, research.  All of those things involve the posture of "head down, hands forward".  This posture KILLS me.  I get migraines, muscle spasms, inflammation, pain.  Screeeeech!  That is the sound of my life coming to a halt.  I like to walk, dance, play.  You name a body part, it will start tightening up or hurting.  Sigh.  I don't like to exercise or do my PT, but I do them anyway.  Oh, guess what?  It is insanely easy to cross that line from therapeutic to exacerbating the underlying condition.  My recovery rate is an ever-so-slightly-upward-slanting-line of improvement.  We're talking years here.  Even the things I really hate doing, but have to do anyway, will cause all the same problems.  Cleaning, folding clothes, sorting papers, wiping counters.  Which is why no one is allowed to enter my house anymore, except for a select few who are in similar states.  So, I am left with only a few options that are still easy to do and don't cause me pain.  Complain, whine, bitch, rage, snark, snap, whimper.  And I am getting really gooooooooooooooooood at those!  And another thing that is a problem:  being on the computer to long.  Which is why I have to cut this sho-



silly wabbit ;-)

Ode to Sir Charles Bell

Ding Dong Hell
Gremmy's got the Bell.
Now she can't Pout
With this new Bout.
Only half a grin
From forehead to her chin.
What a freaky thing was that
When one side of her face fell flat.
The doctor says there is no harm
She says "Good, but goshdamndarn!"


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Happy Versa-annary

We have been married 19 years today. Through hell and high water. Through ADD and CFIDS. Through hives and cancer. Whew... Not much exciting today though. Had dr. appointments, went to lunch, re-planted a missing letterbox, filled rx and now am hiding in the house because I'm just too tired to deal with trick or treaters (though we bought candy just in case). Newest "interesting" thing about me...may have sleep apnea or hypopopnia. Oh I also have anosmia ever since I had the flu, I just didn't know it had a name. My doc thinks that is the silliest name for not being able to smell odors. I said it might as well as been called Nosmellum. Yay, more health issues... (said in a monotone.)