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I really want to share the road......
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Sep. 29th, 2008 @ 02:30 pm
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First of all, let me say I am not an anti-bike person. I've never had a bike. I know that's hard to believe, but I'm not sure my parents could afford one (or maybe they just didn't want their chubby, unattractive, uncoordinated little kid on one), so by the time I was married I was afraid to get on a bike.
I see all these bumper stickers that proclaim "SHARE THE ROAD," referring to being courteous to those on bicycles. I also remember some bumper stickers encouraging municipalities to include bike lanes when redoing or building roads. So, therein lies my question. Are bicyclers supposed to use bike lanes when they are available?
We live on the Isle of Palms and from the IOP Connector until at least to the border of Sullivan's Island, there is a bike lane. Written right on the road, there are letters proclaiming "BIKES ONLY!" So, please tell me why bikers don't use that lane. I'm not being belligerent toward bikers...I just don't understand. Cars invariably weave well into the on-coming lane when passing the bikers, which is not easy on the IOP or Sullivans Island because there is only solid lines throughout the two towns, making passing illegal...or well, maybe, only passing other cars is illegal. Who knows.
It gets even more exciting on the Ben Sawyer Bridge, which has its rules for bikers posted on a sign that says for them to get off their bikes and walk them across using the sidewalk. That almost never happens. I am tempted to stop and applaud those who follow the rules. Oops...I'm sounding belligerent.
So, if there are any bikers who would like to enlighten me, please make me understand the nonuse of bike lanes. Thanks so much!! |
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I have to be getting points...somewhere
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Sep. 27th, 2008 @ 08:29 pm
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I came out of the house about 4:15 with all three dogs on leashes. Dick and I were preparing to go to a barbecue dinner at church, which was to begin at 5 p.m. I noticed a large group of people milling about in the street - a little down from our house toward the marsh. I recognized Nancy (no real names are used), the ex-wife of our neighbor across the street who died about six months ago.
I yelled a greeting to her and she told me her son, Carter was getting married today and, pointing to a lady in the crowd who was holding a babe, she said, "Isn't his baby beautiful." Okay, I was hooked, so I put the dogs back in the house (mainly because Annie was trying to jump up on all the people milling about, and I noticed they were dressed to the nines). I came back out, admired the baby and said hello to her son, who had been somewhat of a problem child earlier in his life. His mom told me recently, when I asked how he was doing, that he was an entrepreneur of illegal substance, and doing well. They introduced me to his upcoming bride and the mother of the quite lovely little baby.
"We were going to have the wedding on the beach," Nancy said, "but realized the island police might require us to have a permit." There was a pregnant pause, so I said, "Hey...would you like to hold the wedding in our yard or on the dock?" And, guess what...they said Yes! Nancy invited us to the wedding, but I told her we had to get dressed to go to the church function. So, I went back into the house and told Dick there was going to be a surprise wedding on our dock. "When?" he asked - a perfectly appropriate question. I pointed out the window as the entire group was walking down the pier to our dock, upon which sits the 10 foot tall pink flamingo.
As I got ready to get in the shower, the bride and groom were standing in front of the flamingo and the rest of the party was on the other side of the dock. When I finished my shower, the wedding was over and the party was walking back down the pier for picture-taking in our yard, and the signing of the wedding license on our really old delapidated picnic table.
As we left, the picture-taking session was coming to an end and the group was getting into their cars to go to the reception, which was being held at a location unknown to me. We were a little late to the church barbecue, but what a wonderful story to tell about why we were late. We have to be getting points somewhere for sharing our place with whomever and whenever. |
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done with the mouse
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Sep. 22nd, 2008 @ 01:55 pm
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Sadie wouldn't participate. She said it was beneath her dignity and at 15 years old (or 105 human years), I don't argue with her! |
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the longest week
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Sep. 21st, 2008 @ 07:39 pm
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We have had such an adventure. Last Friday we flew from Charleston to Richmond to attend a reunion..then flew back to Charleston on Sunday. We set fire to $100 because we had reserved a room at an Ashland, Virginia hotel that looked like you should be packing heat if you wanted to stay there. So we canceled the reservations that we non-refundable and stayed at a safer looking hotel. We had a wonderful time with friends we hadn't seen in years and shared old and new stories. I was so thrilled that Dick had such a good time. We met at a restaurant called The Smokey Pig (I knew as a vegetarian that I was dead in the water!) and he and his college and early married life buddies laughed until I thought we might be asked to leave. The wives sat together and I caught up on the lives of my former next-door neighbor whom I have loved for years, my car-pooling buddy from when I worked as an IV nurse at Richmond Memorial Hospital, and my friend who has the wonderful name Cecil - not Cecile.
Then on Sunday we flew back to Charleston, got into our car at the airport and drove to Disney World. We stayed at the All Star Resort, Disney's Motel 6, but still on the property. We met up with our 'Clump,' the same as in November and walked our hineys off in dreadful heat. We did get an opportunity to have Caleb, our newly-turned five-year old, to ourselves one of the nights. Caleb, Dick, Tommy and I did the new Buzz Lightyear ride while the rest of the Clump did something else. I started a "Caleb's Disney Adventure" journal with him and we wrote something each night. He is a refreshing little boy and we loved having him all to ourselves if only for a little while.
We came back to the IOP on Friday and Saturday we had about 70 plus people here to honor Sarah and Dave following their wedding. It was fun. Then I was elder of the week at church and we had an early beach service and then a christening at the 11 o'clock service. At 1:30 I fell apart.
Waiting for me amongst the other mail was a letter from the hospital telling me that there is something a little suspicious in my one good, pretty breast. The recommendation is that I have another mammogram or MRI or some ungodly test in five months. I can't even think about it right now but will call my A-team, Scott and Amy tomorrow. Damn it! No matter what, there will be a little preoccupation in my head for the next five months. Somehow I don't think I will ever be totally unafraid. |
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A day of scans
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Sep. 8th, 2008 @ 08:01 pm
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I went to see Scott, my oncologist, last Thursday. He drew blood and informed me that I needed to get some scans. Because he is a friend, we were having a great time chatting, so I am assuming he means these scans just to be the eternal check-ups that I will have for the rest of my life.
I started this morning at 7:30 with a PET CT scan. After missing one vein, the tech put an IV in my hand, injected some radiated glucose as I sat in a recliner, dimmed the lights and told me to relax for 45 minutes. Oh, Dear God! But I did it and she returned. I was put on a table and run through a doughnut for about thirty minutes. I always keep my eyes shut, because I don't want to find out I'm claustrophobic. Dick drove me to the Center at St. Francis.
My next scan, a bilateral breast MRI, was scheduled for 11:45 on the other side of town at Roper. Dick and I had breakfast at the Variety Store and he drove me home. I saw no reason for him to take me to the second appointment, which I had been told would only be about 30 minutes.
I registered, a tech came and got me, ANOTHER IV was placed in my arm, this time - at least it was on the first try, and I was told to take off my jewelry, which consisted of a necklace, a pair of earrings, three 'strong' bracelets (pink for breast cancer, white for nursing, and orange for the SPCA, a silver bracelet and a pink Promise bracelet). Then I was given the dreaded hospital gown, placed on a table, face down, with my boobies hanging through two openings, given ear plugs, and the test began. I had been told the scan itself would be about twenty minutes.
I don't know what happened but I was on that table, in that tube for more than 90 minutes. My ribs hurt, my face hurt, and I ran out of things to occupy my brain. The noise was ghastly. I tried to give rhythm and word to it - once it sounded like the banging noise said "SOOKEY," and another time "ISTAMBUL." Mostly it was just hellishly loud and I could feel the impact moving the air just above my head...my hair would move. After what I thought was an interminable amount of time, a voice told me we were 1/3 the way through. I almost started to cry, but was cautioned not to move. I replayed in my head every successful audition I ever had, I respoke The Mammologues, I tried counting seconds, but would get stuck on 10, 11, 12. I concentrated on my breathing and then realized that made me afraid that I was going to suffocate. Then I felt like my heart beat was becoming irregular. All the while, a nice voice was encouraging me, saying, "You're doing great. It's important you don't move." I truly thought I was going to vomit or cough and my face hurt from being stuck in the hole intended for it.
When I finally finished, it was after 2 p.m. The techs told me something about not being able to get clear pictures, and helped me off the table. I was dizzy and kept apologizing for messing up the test, but I knew I hadn't. I got my clothes on, got my IV out and almost ran out of the hospital, realizing later I had left all of my jewelry and my sunglasses in the little room where I dressed.
When Dick got home, I asked him to make me a drink...something I haven't done in a couple of years and asked for his undivided attention while I told him my tale of woe. I am getting ready to go stand in the shower...allowing healing water to wash over me. This was truly one of the most difficult days for me in recent history. I just hope and pray the scans are good. |
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How long will it take
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Aug. 27th, 2008 @ 11:36 pm
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I want to live a while longer and I want to know what I mean. I am having strange symptoms:
a. Appetite sucks. Can't seem to finish anything or find anything appealling, but I don't seem to be losing weight....bummer
b. If I lean over at all, I am dizzy when I straighten up.
c. I will suddenly feel weak or like I am going to pass out...but never do.
d. Most of the time my extremities (even my nose)re very cold -- then I have a hot flash bringing me my own private summer.
e. My carpal tunnel and peripheral neuropathy from Taxol are making my right hand Frankenstein. At least three fingers are numb all the time and sometimes there is pretty remarkable pain. I am seeing a hand guy Friday, so that's good. But there will be NO surgery until after the Disney Paddle on October 18.
Tire of whining. |
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Olde Farte
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Aug. 18th, 2008 @ 02:24 pm
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I think I am officially an olde farte, (I love it when people put 'e''s on perfectly good words) and as such should lead a more uncomplicated life. But something has just totally screwed up the week of September 13 - 20. I think the planets have aligned in a certain way that too, VERY TOO, much is going on that week.
On Saturday, September 13 is the Dragonboat Atlanta Festival. I immediately signed up, reserved my hotel room and have been paddling like a demon at practices for the past month or so. In the interim, Dick received an invitation to a high school reunion in Ashland, and he opted not to go to that, but go to Atlanta.
On Sunday, September 14 the trip to Disney begins. We had originally agreed to go on the train with Eddie (son), Lisa (daughter-in-law), Wanda (Eddie's mother-in-law), Tommy (another son) and three grandchildren. Then the Atlanta festival came up so we cancelled our train tickets and opted to drive from Atlanta to Orlando on Sunday after the dragonboat festival.
Two weeks after that, Dick receives an invitation from Martin-Marietta (some big client) to go deep-sea fishing on Tuesday, September 16 - Thursday, September 18th, which he declines because of the OTHER STUFF GOING ON. THIS IS GETTING CRAZY!
Then Saturday, our former next-door neighbor and really good friend in Virginia calls and leaves a plaintive message on our answering machine about hoping we were coming to the reunion. Dick gets the Bugs Bunny look on his face and I KNOW he really wants to go to that. I break out in hives over this because I know in my heart that I really should do something for him for a change. I guess it's NOT ALWAYS ABOUT ME (what??), so I make the decision to forgo my paddling adventure and defer to him. Now, we fly to Richmond on Friday, party hardy with our OLDE Virginia friends, fly back to Charleston on Sunday, get into our car which will be staying at the airport and damn drive to see the freaking MOUSE.
We are scheduled to come home on Friday, September 19th and will be hosting 70 or so people on Saturday, September 20th at 4 p.m. for a wedding celebration. Thanks be to God our sweet Sarah is having it catered, so all we have to do is booze and cake. And five minutes ago (my hand to God), I just got an invitation to go to Savannah for another paddling festival on - you guessed it - September 20.
I'm almost, but not quite, ready for some olde-farte-age. |
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veggies, glorious veggies
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Jul. 3rd, 2008 @ 02:38 pm
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About a month or so ago, Tommy found a web site for Ambrose Family Farms, a place on Johns Island. On it, there was a CSA link - community supporting agriculture. For a fee, you could join this CSA and have fresh vegetables brought to several designated delivery sites every Wednesday.
I immediately joined. A handbook was made available on line that explained the plan and gently encouraged the members to try different veggies and that there would be recipes available on their site. This has been so exciting! I have made a green tomato pie, yellow, zucchini and patty-pan (who knew?) squash, eggplant casseroles, baked beets with garlic and olive oil, glazed carrots with fresh basil, and enough tomato sandwiches to sink a ship. And yesterday, an incredibly delicious cantaloupe came in my box.
I found a recipe for a white bean, tomato and kale soup because kale came in the box for two weeks; I have had fresh garlic and green chili peppers a couple of times as well. I always share a bit with Tommy and yesterday took a whole box of cherry tomatoes to Eddie's family. I LOVE Wednesdays.
We are promised seven weeks of the summer growing season, which probably ends sometime this month. I will definitely try to get on the list for the fall. Since becoming a vegetarian, this is the most varied bunch of meals I've eaten. YUM,YUM!! |
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Knoxville Dragonboating
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Jun. 30th, 2008 @ 10:01 am
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What a wonderful weekend I had. Our Dragonboat Charleston team and our sister team Surge went to a festival in Knoxville. Now, I am not particularly fond of the mountains, having lived my entire life on flat ground, and I double-dee HATE driving on those curvy roads that go up, up, up, and down, down, down. So, even though I knew in my heart that we would have to cross mountains to get there, I left it out of my head. Thanks be to God, I did NOT have to drive. I sat in the back seat of my friends, Alice and Chris' car. Chris obviously knew how to handle those roads and I only prayed out loud a couple of times.
My two roommates for the event are both gorgeous women, both cancer survivors, and both very tall and willowy (I just love that word!). They are also two people I adore. I dubbed them the 'Twin Towers,' and looking at this picture I am sure you will understand:
I honestly don't realize that I am a short person until I see picture like that! |
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The Mammologues - Part 2...the best comment
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Jun. 9th, 2008 @ 08:17 pm
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Four financial planners from Ameritrade bought out the theatre for a production of The Mammologues. Each invited forty clients, so the place was packed. I didn't hold back...I gave them the full, uncensored version of the play including the line "No one can fuck like Dick."
They were a strange audience. I'm sure they didn't know exactly what to expect. If you are told you are going to see a one-woman show about her journey through breast cancer, you may not expect it to be so irreverent and slightly bawdy. They seemed more okay with the f--- line than my telling them about the anti-nausea healing effect of marijuana.
After every show, I was enveloped by many of the theatre goers to express their kind thoughts and I was very moved by many of their comments. However, from the above described audience came the best remark of all. An older gentleman approached me, holding the hand of his equally elderly wife. He said, "I have had a prostatectomy so I cannot perform as well as your Richard. However, I loved your show and I love to hear a woman say that her husband is a good fucker."
My hand to God...that is the exact comment. How can you not love that? |
| » The Mammologues - Part 1 |
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I have finished five public, one private, one 400 person luncheon, and one celebration of the 125th Anniversary of the Medical University of South Carolina College of Nursing. Ah'm tiiiirred.
The reviews were so good. The City Paper reviewer gave the show an 'A'.
MAY 25, 2008
The Mammologues: Gene Glave’s Journey Through Breast Cancer
Gene Glave reminisces about driving and puking, first in college, and again after chemo in her hilariously personal Mammologues
BY GERVASE CAYCEDO
Witnessing Gene Glave in her one-woman show Mammologues, is less like watching a play and more like having dinner with your favorite kooky, off-the-wall aunt. You know, the aunt who says what she means and holds nothing back; makes you laugh until you nearly pee your pants all the while remaining genuinely interested in you and your latest boyfriend.
Glave’s play material was plucked directly from her series of blog posts two years ago as she battled breast cancer, and trust me, by the time you exit the theater, you’ll feel as if you’ve just read her diary. Navigating her way through wig shopping, pot brownies, and folliculitis (inflammation of the hair follicles after chemotherapy), Glave is uncompromisingly honest as she talks about the ugly side of cancer. She makes no apologies for the graphic content, (there’s a bit about her losing her toenails which left my skin crawling), or the personal disclosure (after her mastectomy, still loopy from anesthesia she tells all her visitors she loves them dearly but, “no one can fuck like Dick can.” Don’t worry, Dick is her husband).
Frankly, it’s refreshing.
What makes Mammologues brilliant is that while trying not to pee my pants laughing, I momentarily forgot that this woman was actually telling a true story — her story. She’s not acting. If you want a sneak peek into Gene Glave — the sister, the wife, the mother, the friend — look no further, for you will find her heart and soul on the stage of the Village Playhouse. In that way, it is not like going to the theater. There are no characters, no actors, no costumes. Aside from a few props of wigs and falsies, and a simple set reminiscent of a home (or a cozy hospital room), Glave is on stage playing (but not acting as) herself. Sure, she had some help from director Keely Enright in crafting her journals into a play format and perfecting her innate comedic timing, but, an experienced thespian, she is at home on stage.
As I became engrossed in her story, she was at different times my sister, my mother, my aunt, and my friend, speaking openly about the “darkness of depression,” yet making me smile seconds later with true-life tales of a musical rendition she and her sister choreographed called “Bye Bye Boobie.” She seeks to entertain us, but also to give voice to a sickness that no one seems to want to speak about. Cancer. Everywhere else but in this play, cancer is whispered about. Unpleasant and awkward, it seems impossible to render the appropriate amount of empathy towards someone who has it. Yet, everyone knows someone who at least knows someone (who may know someone) who has struggled with cancer, and therein lies the beauty of this play — untapped mass appeal. Drag the men in your life to see it, Glave lovingly references her husband and three boys throughout, and husbands and sons in your life may thank you for it someday.
How inspiring to find a play that succeeds in being honest, poignant, funny, and relatable all before intermission.
The Mammologues: Gene Glave’s Journey Through Breast Cancer • Piccolo Spoleto Theatre Series • $17-$22 • 1 hour 30 min. • May 25 at 7 p.m.; May 31 at 3 p.m.; June 3, 5 at 8 p.m. • Village Playhouse, 730 Coleman Blvd., Mt. Pleasant • (888) 374-2656
MORE BY GERVASE CAYCEDO
Mammologues: Gene Glave's Journey Through Breast Cancer
Her play is meant to appeal on a human level, instead of just to women and cancer survivors — so anyone eager to understand the human mind and a heart faced with adversity will appreciate Glave's courage and honesty. [May 19, 2008]
Jun. 9th, 2008 @ 08:07 pm
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| » We are not invincible |
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I don't even know how to describe this: abject terror comes close. Tuesday, Dick had a TIA. That is a transient ischemia attack, or sometimes described as a 'mini' stroke.
He left home to go to work and said that things started looking funny..in his words, "It was like I was in a cartoon." As eloquent as that may be, I can't get a handle on it - can't imagine what that might look like. "The dashboard of the car looked funny, as did the other cars." He drove all the way to his office in North Charleston...safely by the grace of God. He said that when he got to his office, he was unsteady on his feet and couldn't get the computer to work properly.
He had left some stuff at home that morning, so I told him to meet me at St. Francis and I would give it to him. When he drove up, I ran out to meet him and I asked him if he was okay - he never leaves stuff at home..just not in his makeup. He admitted to feeling lightheaded and said he was going home to lie down. OH, I DON'T THINK SO. I took him straight to the ER and he was somewhat unsteady. He had a CT of the brain, lots of blood work and within an hour he was fine. He never showed any abnormal neurological signs or weakness in any of his extremities.
All of his tests came up negative and he had a second CT and an MRI yesterday. He was admitted overnight and discharged Wednesday. I had to sit on him to get him to stay home yesterday and he is back to work today...feeling totally normal.
I am terrified and he said that he felt like he was living under the sword of Damocles - sort of how I feel about cancer. He was my rock during my illness and I have such a hard time thinking of him as vulnerable. I prayed and asked God to take me - not him. He is such a much better person.
We are considering this a wake up call, and even though his tests were normal, we will be living a different lifestyle. There will be healthy meals and exercise in his future...which he is taking with a grain of salt..well actually without salt. Please send prayers, mojo, or good thoughts his way. That worked for me during cancer.
May. 30th, 2008 @ 09:28 am
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| » Am I done? |
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I almost always post fun things here, but today my heart was broken.
Because I've never been considered a 'pretty one', but always a 'smart one,' I take probably too much pride in the fact that I am competent in whatever I do. There is a lot of stuff going on here at work. I try to keep a low profile and not criticize or talk about people behind their backs or in front of others. In front of others is worse, because you know the person doing the talking feels you are dumb or incompetent.
I was working on a way to make a process safe for our small patients and then realized my solution had some real faults...one I couldn't get past. One of my cohorts - a beloved one - couldn't see the problem I saw and offered a solution that didn't address the problem, in my mind. Another person in the room suggested a wonderful alternative that would work fine, but be expensive. Then she fell all over herself as if her wonderful solution might offend me. IT DIDN'T! But she kept repeating her fawning apologies like I was Atilla the Hun - a dumb Atilla the Hun. I finally told her that I was thrilled with a solution - any solution that would keep our patients safe. The highest ranking person in the group seems to have making me feel stupid as part of her job description. So, maybe she's right. It was like an epiphany - I may have outlived my usefulness. I may have lost too many brain cells - through age, cancer and chemo. And I may be done.
It didn't help that the highest ranking person in my hospital world also had a condescending remark to say earlier in the day. Is God trying to tell me something?
Then I watched this poor old woman in a wheelchair being pushed by a younger aide of some sort in the parking lot; heading I guess to the old lady's car to be taken home. The younger woman was reviewing some conversation with the older lady in a haughty tone and with hurtful verbiage. This is when I wish I had the number of Dr. Kevorkian for future reference - And enough health insurance to really and truly retire.
This has not been one of my best days.
May. 14th, 2008 @ 04:49 pm
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| » Two year Anniversary and it's very, very red |
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It has been two years this week since my last chemo treatment and I died my hair red today. And I mean red - Katie Rose red. Last year this week I died my hair blonde, but I wanted a change. And it is red, curly - an old Little Orphan Annie. Next year I might go green....or purple.
Joanna cut it short, so it is very curly as well. I remember when people first saw my bald head...they sort of flinched, like it was hard to look at. Well, this red head may be in the same category and I really don't care. I am going to have so much fun with this outrageous mop on my head.
I really didn't mean for it to be this red. I was thinking perhaps the color of my wig, but then it wouldn't make the anniversary statement. I have had two exceedingly wonderful years that I may not even deserve. I am viewing each day as an unexpected treat.
If I go anywhere with Katie Rose, we'd definitely look like kin.
So, if anyone looks at me and flinches, it's their problem. I am celebrating having hair, having red hair, and having life. YAHOO....
May. 9th, 2008 @ 04:42 pm
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| » If I can get through May and June..... |
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This has been such an exciting month already and it's only started. Saturday we had the dragonboat festival and it was amazing. There were 49 teams participating. That's 49 times 20 paddlers times a drummer and steersperson. Here are a couple of pictures...both taken by my famous friend, Joan Perry.
The first picture is of The Vikings (DUH) - the team that won the award for Best Team Spirit. They were adorable. When they picked up their award, which could also have been for most spirit but least clothes, they called up Grandee, one of our own dragonboaters, so they could recognize her as their coach. It was a great moment.
The other one is me in the clothes I wear most in my life these days. It is now almost five o'clock and I can't wait for six so I can paddle again.
The Mammologues starts May 24th and I am rehearsing every day in my car. I won't be rehearsing in the theatre until next week. I get so nervous before I do the show. My mouth gets dry and I feel like my brain fries! I have tried to figure out why I get that way. If I mess up, who would know? I wrote it. But I have discovered that there is always someone I love in the audience and really want to do my best for them. It sold out during August, but I am worried about no one coming this time. There is so much to see during Spoleto, but I hope for the best. The really thrilling thing for me is that I am on Ticketmaster. O HOLY COW!!!
I am speaking at the Komen Survivor Luncheon on May 20th. The emphasis is on the co-survivor, a funky name for all those people who loved and supported cancer victims. The scary thing is that I have to do that and then start The Mammologues four days later. I think my brain may explode!
On May 14th, Dick and I and the Conquistadors and the Conquistadorables are going on a boat trip to Beaufort and Dafuskie Island for the weekend. I always have fun when we do this, but I can't help but worry about the cost of gas, going across whatever that Sound/Bay is near Beaufort, about the dogs while we are gone, the wind, thunderstorms....I AM SO THE DESIGNATED WORRIER.
May. 7th, 2008 @ 04:42 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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There are times I really would like to retire. Almost all my friends are retired and I am older than dirt. But, I really like my job. Just recently, when I should be thinking of moving on, I got an added layer to my job, that sort of feels like what I really should be doing.
Most of breast cancer and reconstruction cases are done downtown, but at our West Ashley hospital we are adding a cancer center, which will take several years to complete. So, I see the occasional breast cancer patient that comes to us. I'm good at it because I've been there and done that, but lack the formal training and initials behind my name.
Yesterday I went downtown to talk with the official Breast Care Navigator for the system and participated in getting help for a 35 year-old lady who spoke almost no English, has no green card and has an awful case of breast cancer. She didn't get help in the early stages, mostly out of fear and lack of means. She is so sweet and obviously terrified. Her mammogram was god-awful, with nodes that are huge. She has two babies, almost three and just over one both of whose diet consists of breast milk. She has only been feeding them from the unaffected side. Somehow or another, through the graciousness and mercy of our health system, she will be treated. Yesterday, she got her first chemo drugs, Adriamcyin and Cytoxin. Through a language line we talked about the side effects and that I had been through it - got bald and got hair. We had several pieces of info about the drugs and treatment protocol in Spanish.
I know I should be pissed off that some illegal alien is sucking my tax dollars, but God knows I would much rather have my tax dollars go to take care of this lady than some of the crap those dollars are spent on.
I can only hold this lady in my heart and pray for the best for her and her little family. I am truly a very lucky woman.
Apr. 26th, 2008 @ 10:05 am
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| » EW! |
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Dick and I went to see Greater Tuna in downtown Charleston, starring two very talented actors that are also friends. We had a great time. The show ended about 10 p.m. and we stayed awhile and chatted up some people.
We had not eaten dinner, so Dick suggested we eat at a well-known local restaurant on East Bay Street. It was around 10:30 when we got there. In the main dining room are tables and a long bench-like banquette (I think that's what it's called) with tables for two and four in front of the bench and either two or four chairs on the other side of the tables. We were seated there - me on the bench, Dick in the chair.
There was an eight top sitting closer to the door and one four top in a booth and that was about all. We finished about 11, the same time as the eight top who wanted to eat up and spit out our young little waiter...pissing and moaning about something. So, Dick took out his American Express Card and we were waiting patiently.
Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see something that scoots from one end of the bench...past my seated hiney...and then off the other side. In my mind I was discounting this until I looked at Dick who had the Bugs Bunny look - eyes the size of fists. "Did you see that?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "It was a rat."I immediately thanked God for my short legs that prevent me from sitting all the way back on a seat. For if I had long legs, the rat would have run across my lap - at which point I would have pooped my pants and died. I sprang from my seat (similar to Santa springing from his sleigh) and dashed to the bar, where the chairs are elevated.
The manager came out. Partly to try to calm down the pissers and moaners at the eight top and comfort me. What I really wanted to hear was, "Oh my gosh. That couldn't have been a rat because we have excellent exterminating services. Perhaps it was a squirrel. Regardless, may I comp your meal?" Oh, No! He said, "Oh, my gosh. I know what you mean. When I stay here late, I walk around with a broomstick handle."
I know we live on the water and wharf rats are around. I just don't want to have dinner with them. EW!
Apr. 24th, 2008 @ 11:45 pm
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I went to Virginia to speak to a cancer survivor group in Newport News. I left the Saturday before Easter and got a flight for an amazing $159! Well, now I know why. The leg from Charlotte to Newport News (and back) was on a little clown plane. There was one flight attendant and the pilot never said jack shit to us.
Now I am not the greatest flyer in the world. I say The Lord's Prayer, the Apostle's Creed, and the 23rd Psalm even on the best of flights. This one did not rank right up there with them. A front was coming through and my sister told me that it was 70 degrees in NN at 4 p.m., but it was ~40 degrees when we landed, with lots of wind.
However, I did get to spend time with her and the talk went really well. I think only one older couple was a little offended that I said 'shit.' That word has to stay. I did not drop the F bomb, like I do in the stage production, which is coming up again VERY soon. The Piccolo Spoleto dates are set for the last part of May and first part of June. I have five public performances and then one that a local businessman bought out for his company.
I also get to speak at the Komen Survivor Luncheon - also in May (too many things in May). The theme is Follow the Pink Ribbon Road and the emphasis is on co-survivors, so I am using the last song from 'Wicked' to build the speech. I am going to have the co-survivors stand at the end of the talk, and speak to them. We survivors always get to stand, light candles, sway to music, and weep a little. It's time to recognize those people that carried us through. Dick and Dianne are coming as my guests.
Our Dragonboat Festival is May 3rd. I would get up at 3 a.m. to paddle. I wouldn't have found these people without cancer. How can I be grateful to that beastly disease, but I am. I didn't get to paddle today because one of our guy members took a ghastly fall in the boat and I took him to the ER. He will be out six to eight weeks. I hate that for him. We had a doctor paddling today, but our guy fell on him...so I became the medic by default. Then tonight Dick and I worked the Charleston In-water Boat Show at the Dragonboat exhibit with four terrific paddling friends. I love that group.
It is after 1 a.m. and some dumb bird thinks it's daybreak. It is just singing away - having its very own concert. Life is good.
Apr. 20th, 2008 @ 12:47 am
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We left for New York on Saturday morning and came back to Richmond on Tuesday night. We saw six plays. I think that is a record.
Saturday matinee - we saw Sunday in the Park with George. It was classy and fun to look at. It had Sondheim music, so no one was humming tunes when we left. Our bags were taken to the hotel and Neta and got another Liliputian room, which was just delightful. We unpacked, bought our wine, ate seafood and went to the next show.
Saturday evening - Young Frankenstein. I loved it, but apparently it has been compared to The Producers because it is a Mel Brooks offering, and has not been viewed as the same standard. We had great seats and I thought it was really a fun show - just joyously silly...but then the movie is, too.
Sunday matinee - we got to see the last performance of Is He Dead, featuring my favorite broadway star, Norbert Leo Butz, who won a Tony for Dirty Rotten Scandals. We were practically sitting on stage and I loved every second of it. Norbert in drag is just deliciously absurb. There were some closing night sillinesses that just added to the joy. I think he may get a Tony nomination for that role.
Sunday evening - Altar Boyz, which Neta and I had already seen. But there was a totally different cast, so it was still fun. Much energy and fun music. After that, Net a and I got a box of food from a very cleverly named place "Deli and Salad Bar," which was next to the hotel. We drank more wine and went to bed.
Monday was spent shopping. First we went to Macy's and Daffy's and bought some stuff. Then came back to the hotel and got Jeanette, our other cousin, and jumped on the subway to China Town. I was looking for an LV and Neta was looking for a Coach - knockoffs, of course. We were in one of the stalls when the proprietor whispered Woowee Bitton (Louis Vitton). We nodded yes, and she said "Stay here." She made a couple of phone calls and then herded us through a secret door to a small backroom. Well, this really tickled me. She said "NO TALK!" and pointed her clasped together fingers at us and said, "Whisper." Okay, so I'm ready to pee on myself by then. We made our purchases and she made another phone call, opened the door and said; "Go Quickwee." That night, we managed to get tickets for Gypsy with Patti Lupone. She is amazing, but they didn't use a real dog in it. It will do well.
Tuesday we went to the UN for a tour. A young man about 25-30 years old was our guide. He was from India. There were about fifteen people in our group and one was from Tibet. He was verrrrryyy upset at the UN because China is occupying Tibet and he is a man without a country and is unable to get a passport. He continued to argue with the guide and I was quite certain he was going to whip out a gun or something. Do I attract weirdos?? The tour finally ended and the tour guide took us into an elevator that opened up into the gift shop. Just like Disney World. That night we saw Into the Heights, which is like a cross between West Side Story and Rent. Lots of jivey music, but somewhat disjointed. The lead will probably get a Tony nomination as well.
Fun time.
Mar. 17th, 2008 @ 04:16 pm
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I haven't posted in a while - just too much going on.
Poor little Annie, the new dog, had a bout of hemorrhagic gastroenteritis, which is a fancy word for "we really don't know why she is pooping blood." I took her to my wonderful vet and she is all better. I really thought she might die. Another thing, on the dog subject is that Dick and I won a painting of our pet at a silent auction. The result was unbelievable. Somehow this artist captured the spirit of Mattie and Sadie. I will have them forever! This is a picture of the painting.
I leave tomorrow for New York. This time I'm going with The University of Richmond group. Neta and I just went in October, but I'm ready to go again. We are going to see 'Young Frankenstein,' which is one of my favorite movies.
The Charleston City Paper had the 'Best of Charleston' gala last night. I won the readers' picks for Best Actress and Mammologues won for Best Show. Holy Cow! Dick and I represented the Old Fart faction. It was so fun with people in Zombie costumes (that was the theme), a rock band, lots and lots of young people - the girls with really beautiful shoes! and two girls from Diamonds who had on only shorts - nothing on top except tastefully painted decorations. It was a hoot. What an eclectic group of people. You could pick any four and know that none of them would ever be at the same place except for this night.
Gail, Dick's niece, was diagnosed with breast cancer several weeks ago. This has taken the wind out of my sails. It was discovered first in the lymph nodes. She has had a life port placed and will start chemo on Thursday. But today, there was good news. Her PET scan was clear except for the known cancer sites, so there is no distant mets. YAHOOO - SOMEBODY FIND ME AN OYSTER SHOOTER TO CELEBRATE.
And off to the northland...........
Mar. 6th, 2008 @ 01:49 pm
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