Grace and glories

Morning glories
My patio won't look like this until late August

I love morning glories. My plants have finally started to grow after a slow start from being rabbit feed and are about 2 feet tall now climbing a shepherd's hook. They eventually will trail along the string of solar lights I've strung up. In the late afternoon, the sun hits the glass balls and they look like diamonds. Steve said my hummer is back feeding on the red lilies and the impatiens. Still think impatiens haven't much to offer the hummers. As if I did not have enough flowers, I bought some end of the season 'bargains'-a beautiful angel wing basket of orange begonias and a burgundy hibiscus which I planted in the ground although maybe I should put it in a pot.

Today and tomorrow will be cool, good for my long runs. I did 6.7 miles on the 'scenic beauty ' road this morning. I will eat lunch with an old friend, who is a stage 4 lymphoma survivor and later I will go out to Happy Hour with another friend. I put some gel in my hair so it sticks out. Still it is growing so painfully slowly.

Grace. Wish I had it in both the physical and non-physical senses. I have been reading some cancer patients' stories on how they handle really impossible situations with grace. Two stories that have particularly moved me:
1) The story of Sharifah, a teacher in Malaysia whose dentist one year ago noticed a lump on her tongue-oral cancer. (see http://hiduplama.blogspot.com/) She now has no tongue and can not speak or eat except with a feeding device she calls Miss Peggy. She handles this situation with aplomb grateful for everything. I started reading her story because a mom of one of Naomi's friends was just diagnosed with oral cancer and is devastated. I don't know any details beyond that. Dennis of "being Cancer" (http://beingcancer.net/) has cataloged all the cancer blogs he can find by type of cancer, breast cancer and lymphoma being the most numerous by far. Lung cancer is the number one cancer I think but hardly any blogs on it.
2) The story of Shin. see http://www.shinscancerblog.blogspot.com/
She was a 36 year old Korean lady married to an American with 2 very young children. Her breast cancer came back 2 years after it was first diagnosed and spread all over the place: brain, bones, liver and lungs. The lung mets killed her this January but in her last few months, she dedicated her life in preparing birthday presents for years to come for her children. There are videos of her doing this on the right side of her blog. She had been a newscaster in Singapore at one time so she had quite a public following.

The first lady will probably survive her cancer but her life has been changed forever. In both of their blogs they address the issue of 'being brave'. Their point is that they are not really brave at all, just doing what has to be done.

If this monster comes back especially in the form of distal mets, I am sure that I won't be able to deal with it so gracefully. I am mad as hell for all I've gone through, which is nothing compared to what these ladies have faced.

Physicals

Naomi and I had physicals today but with separate doctors. She has outgrown her pediatrician. Her bit of good news for me is her weight (an ever decreasing number). She said the doctor's scale is 5 lbs less than ours so maybe I don't weigh as much as I think. Of course I was weighed today also but I didn't look at the scale.

So I am in good health, except for cancer treatment side effects. He noted my chemo nails. He also said if he were me, he would have opted for the mastectomy. My dentist, who I went to last week, had broken his arm in the same place as I had. He said he couldn't operate as a one handed dentist and they pinned his bone together and he was back to work 3 days later. Why wasn't I given this option? It's not easy being a one armed chemist. It took 3 months for the bone to heal and I was left with a painful, frozen shoulder. It makes me mad that surgery would have sped things up considerably though my dentist still needs PT.

In the paper, one of my favorite restaurants had a special for non-weekend nights for July. We went there last night asking for it. Oh that starts tomorrow! The ad implied it was good for the entire month. After some whining on my part (and no I didn't invoke the cancer card) they gave us a $20 gift certificate.

I looked up Hen and Chick flowers. My hen's erection continues to grow. The wiki entry said it will grow to ten inches, sprout flowers and die. Hens don't blossom until they are 3-4 years old. I had planted it 3 years ago so that explains why I haven't seen it before. I have plenty of chicks so I won't be deprived even with the mother hen's death.

The Fifth of July

Bizarre berry blossom

Well at least my 'hen and chick' or should I say rooster, is happy to see me. He grew a few more inches in the last few days

Lilies..lilies..lilies are all over the place now

More lilies

Bag O'impatiens The cool moist weather has caused my impatiens to take over my beds threatening my other flowers. I need to balance them more carefully

The Fifth of July. Thirty years ago, I waited impatiently for this day as it was the due date of my first child. Although it was not a particularly warm summer, I had trouble with the heat and we had no air conditioning then. I had preeclampsia. Every day I would gain 10 lbs of water weight, spend all night peeing and then repeated the cycle the next day. I vowed no more summer babies; spring babies or no babies. The day came and went with no baby to show for it. On the tenth, I was sent to the hospital for an induction, which did not work and my sky high blood pressure had dropped to normal so I was sent home. Shanna finally appeared on the 15th.

The Fifth of July is also a name of a boring play we saw on Broadway back when I was pregnant with Josh. We had gone to it specifically to see John-boy of the Waltons fame (a friend who was with me had a huge crush on him) but at the last minute, he was substituted because his wife had gone into labor with triplets. Stick to musicals.

These clouds of mosquitoes have not abated. We walked in the Arb last night to check on the 'bizarre berries' which we still can't identify. Big purple blossoms-almost 2 inches across versus the half inch white ones of regular raspberries. Some of the leaves are a foot wide versus 2-3 inches. The fruit are the size of regular raspberries but have a velvety texture and are made up of much smaller cells. The fruit appears in the fall. My raspberries are producing fruit now as are my wild blackberries that suddenly appeared. The blackberries are very tiny-not like the black berries found all over in Seattle's alleys.

It is becoming toasty again. I was able to get a nice run in today with no interruptions.

This week has been very difficult for me. How fragile everything is-especially relationships. Some things have been resolved but other issues just make me sad.

Travelling tour guide

I live on the edge of town. If I run north for 1.5 miles, I am out of the beltline that circles Ann Arbor and I am out where there are not many houses. Today north of the beltline, I encountered a group of about 8 Asian women slowly walking in the middle of the road-not a good idea as the road is nicely paved and cars really speed on it. They stopped me asking where some obscure street was. There are numerous private roads that go off into the woods off the roads up there. I don't keep track of the names. I pointed to the nearest one, about .2 mile ahead thinking it was what they wanted. Josh had a friend that lived on it and I remembered it started with "T". They were looking for Tamerack. I ran further, turned around and found them again. They had passed the driveway I had suggested they turn on. Their English was very poor.. I walked with them to the little driveway where I had told them to turn. Alas the road was 'Trailhead' not Tamerack-I had just seen the T on the handmade sign. I asked if any of them had a cellphone on them so I could call my husband. Surprisingly they did not or maybe they did and thought I'd run off with it. Soon a former colleague of mine pulled in the drive. He had never heard of the street they were looking for and he lived right there so they went back. The colleague was retained by my former employer as he is able to work from home. They had seen me for the first time in a year the other day and wondered what happened to me.

Cancer.

As I was running earlier on the bikepath that leads me out to the fringes, I passed a couple who looked vaguely familiar. The woman just said Wow.
Not sure what she meant by that. Like Wow, you certainly run funny or Wow, it is good that that you are trying to get back after going through so much.

It is a beautiful day yet it is hard to enjoy as those mosquitoes are out in full force. In the past, I only had to deal with them as the sun sat but they are out in the middle of the day.

Happy 4th everyone!

Eye Contact

Naomi also dreamed about her interview. She said that the interviewer asked her a thousand questions, none of which she could answer and in the end, they told her that they would hire her anyway because she is so pretty. I never have dreams like that. We had searched out the company ahead of time in preparation for the interview. It was started by a pair of Lebanese brothers in Dearborn. Oh great, Arabs hate redheads. She is basing this on what her sister's mother-in-law said when it was discovered that Shanna might have redhead genes. We then went over their menu so she'd be familiar with it. We reviewed what 'halal' meat was (Don't say-it's like Kosher meat, right?). My main advice was to be friendly and look the interviewer in the eye. Also no-mumbling.

They had all the people that they were going to interview there together. She recognized many of them and thought she was was more out-going and 'prettier' than they were but she has less experience. The restaurant had a 'hookah' tent. WTF, her friend whispered to her. But somehow Naomi knew all about hookahs. She thought her interview went well and they asked for her fall schedule.

Eye contact. I tried to follow my own advice when I interviewed more than 33 years ago. However I was interviewing with a man who had been promoted due to his scientific achievements, not for his social skills. If I looked at him, he'd look away uncomfortably. He did say that in his department, they had never hired a woman except as a secretary and I was too nervous to ask why. I pondered this for several weeks and finally went to him after I was hired. He then said that the job entailed some physicality but I looked stronger than most women so they figured I could handle it. All righty. This man was the inventor of PCP-a very much abused drug in the 70s. On his own time, he developed a kit that police could use to quickly identify illegal drugs.

When this man refused to look at me, I didn't assume it was because I was hideous but that he was just awkward (not a rare trait among chemists of that era I quickly discovered). Since I've had (hopefully HAD)cancer, I have sadly noticed people avoiding eye contact with me. If they have a choice between looking at me or someone else, the someone else wins out. It very much hurts my feelings. Am I so hideous? Yeah, maybe especially when I went through that no facial hair stage-no eyelashes, eyebrows.

No cancer yoga yesterday and I didn't go to the Y until late. I read the fine print that I needed to schedule an appointment first with someone before I could resume going there and it took me a while to find her.

It was a nice day to run this morning. Naomi is away dog sitting my granddog Sunny, the German Shepherd while her owners go on a wine tasting trip up north. We sometimes just let her stay here but she goes on a hunger strike.

A sea of pink

This is what Breast Cancer Barbie should like-bald and minus the evening gown. For more realism, should be pasty white with dark circles under the eyes, should be a tad plumper from steroid induced water weight.

This is "Pink Ribbon" Barbie, a bizarre attempt to increase breast cancer awareness among the pre-teen set.

It's now July(hard to believe for me as June just flew by), not October when everything turns pink in recognition of Breast Cancer Awareness. One then could buy pink bagels shaped like ribbons then. I've seen toasters, jewelry, t-shirts, yogurt awash in pink but the strangest item would be Pink Ribbon Barbie. One woman in blogsphere pickets stores who peddle such pinkness with signs "Breast Cancer is a Disease-not a Marketing Opportunity".

I guess I should be glad that I have such a 'popular cancer' vs an unpopular one such as anal cancer. No ribbons for that. I have mixed feelings about the mass marketing aspects of breast cancer. If it puts more money into research-- fine but there is an exploitative aspect to it that just doesn't sit right.

Life goes on. Naomi has her first interview in an hour for a waitress job. She is very nervous. Her anxiety must have infiltrated my dreams. I was waiting for her to complete an interview in a lobby of a 8 story building. She was taking a long time coming out of it so I decided to climb the stairs to see what was going on (no elevator in my dreams). I kept climbing and climbing-way more than 8 flights. Finally I found her perched at the edge of a bed with a pimp like person lying in it. She was interviewing to be a prostitute!!! She said no-all she would have to do is play cards all night with this guy. That was the job-I am always exaggerating.

In response to my blog yesterday, I received an anonymous e-mail from a 'resender' address informing me what my daughter really should be called. Thanks for that...NOT.

I will try "cancer yoga" today and then visit the Y and see if my old classmates show up. It is another cool day but I am taking a break. I was able to extend my running without stopping for more than 5 miles yesterday.

I did talk to the nurse yesterday of my primary. I had received a lab requisition form from them in anticipation of my physical next week. I was puzzled as I had labs done 3 weeks ago so I gave them a call. I was admonished for not using the competing St. Joe's system in which it is easier for them to get results but my insurance won't cover that . I asked her when she finally found my results what my TSH was. She gave a very high number indicating that I was hypothyroid. I said that number seems strangely familiar-please check the date. Oh that was from last year. Now my TSH is very low indicating hyper but I also know that I had the same number, my thyroid level actually was on the low side. And my white count still hasn't come back almost 4 months out from my last poisoning!

I went to Happy Hour yesterday with some of the moms. With many conflicting schedules, it is hard for all of us to get together. I still wear my wig when I go out and am not exercising. One inch long hair just doesn't look all that good on me

My snowball or reverse oreo

Snowballs are those Hostess treats that consist of a coconut-marshmallow shell covering a chocolate cake disk. They come in 2 colors-white and bright pink. Lately Naomi with her persistant, pathetic suntanning attempts more closely resembles the bright pink variety. An oreo is the dimissive term for a black person who acts white. I am dealing with the reverse variety.

She very strongly identifies with black culture. Most of her friends are African-American or are at least mixed. She is only attracted to African-American men. She's had friends of all races since she was little. She once went to a girl scout camp in which her unit for some reason was all African-American excepting her. One girl took one look at her and loudly remarked Oh great-a white girl. This did not slow Naomi down in the least and by the end of the week, Naomi was that girl's best friend. Naomi came home in braids-lots of them as her hair was so long and thick. Naomi claims that black girls don't have the mean girl culture that white girls do. No queen bees of seventh grade controlling their minions with snottiness and subtle sarcasm. Not that relations are always nice between the girls, they are more direct when they are angry with each other. For the most part, she seems accepted by these friends. Early on, her basbetball team travelled to a town that was known at one time as the KKK capital of MI. She said something to her teammates about how 'they' were going to hate 'them' there. One of her teammate reminded her that they weren't going to hate her white ass but theirs.


I went to the WCC parents' meeting last night. Between 'non-traditional' students meaning older students being retrained and many parents no longer being able to afford 4 year schools, the school is filled to the brim. To make matters worse, the Michigan Promise Fund is bankrupt, which was news to many in the audience who were dependent on it. This was a program that promised $4000 to Michigan students who got a certain test score who went on to higher education. Naomi scored right below the cut-off, which made me mad. Not at her, but at the premise that the state would give money only to above average students to go regardless of financial need. Why shouldn't low scorers get help too?

I was surprised to see some of the parents there. One was of a very academically successful ex-bball teammate of Naomi's who went to a private school. Turns out her twin wasn't so academically successful. As the mother told me, not all siblings are the same. Don't I know it.