He's Famous and He Knows it

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Book Trailer Number 2, for the more serious, tender-hearted side of things (note Seamus's good behavior throughout this entire video. If that's not Oscar worthy, I don't know what is!).

Another Anniversary

Two Years.


Two Years ago today I finished treatment for triple-negative, Stage 1c, "highly-invasive", ductal carcinoma. I have a diploma to prove it. See:

Teresa with Radiology Oncologist Dr. Janet Hocko 7/14/2009

A whole different "cap and gown" experience, no?
Two years after getting through it all...two years of "survival".... here are my, admittedly random, thoughts:

1. I hardly think about it anymore. I forget that I ever had cancer. I can sometimes be surprised when I remember that I am, in fact, a breast cancer survivor. The other day I was alarmed when I saw one of my radiation tattoos...until I remembered how it got there. I also forget the impact the word "cancer" can have on other people. Thanks to Seamus's survival and my own, when I hear cancer I do not hear "death."

2.  I feel better. And I mean better than before I had cancer. I pay more attention to the important things (and by that I mean what's important to me--and I don't really care if that sounds selfish). I'm exercising more and eating a bit healthier, which is huge. Huge.


3. Not unrelated to #2, I weigh less than I did pre-cancer.

4. I hope I've been able to help other people (and other people's dogs!) get through their own cancer odysseys. I've enjoyed the online/ blog friendships and I've been happy to be able to talk or email with  friends, and friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends, when they were diagnosed and to refer them to the good and great Dr. Karam, to The Pink Ribbon Place or to some other appropriate place (second opinions!!). I'd like to think I've helped in some small way and will continue to be able to.

5. I might be slightly less cynical post-cancer (see #2 and #4 above). I might be able to say "Life is Good."

6. I'm also likely to say "I've worked out twice this week, why the hell aren't I a size 2?"

7. I'm a work in progress. But, at least I'm around for the progress.

Teresa and "Dr." Seamus--7/14/2011: Thriving

P.S. Yes, that's all my hair...if not my natural hair color. ;-)

The Return to the Underwire Bra

I realize that my cancer is officially over, what with the last day of radiation and the whole (gigantic!!) Survivor party happening tomorrow, but indulge me one more time. This is perhaps slightly off-topic, but we all deserve a break from cancer, no? For those of you who are sticklers for themes, I offer you this: I can now return to wearing underwire bras (which were banned during radiation treatment). Quinn Cummings book is out and it's titled "Notes from the Underwire: Adventures from my Awkward and Lovely Life." If that's not enough for you theme-obssessed, in the book she has written about a time when she was 14 years old and her mother was undergoing chemotherapy. She goes wig shopping with her mother. There is no Wig Teen in her story, but the results were quite similar to my Hairy Scary Day.

I've just started reading the book and it's hilarious and well-written and supremely entertaining and interesting. Go, buy it. From your local independent bookstore if you are lucky enough to have one (Vroman's sells it online and they have autographed copies--which is what I got; yeah, call me a geek. Whatever). (And I got this far without saying it, but yes, that Quinn Cummings--the little girl from Goodbye Girl, all grown-up and intellectual and have I mentioned funny?). Unfortunately I missed her one public appearance and reading at Vroman's in Pasadena. Luckily for us all however, she is doing a "blog book tour" which is exactly what it sounds like and really pretty smart. Here, read for yourself (questions are mine; answers are hers....really).


1) Now that you've had a live reading book "tour" and your blog tour is well underway, which group of fans do you find to be better dressed?

Oh, the little people who live in my head. They might shout at me and disparage my grammar, but sartorially, they’re flawless.

2) In your book, you discuss dealing with your mother's cancer. Because this is a blog about dealing with breast cancer, I feel compelled to ask a cancer related question. So here goes--what advice would you give to family and friends of someone diagnosed with cancer (or any serious illness for that matter)? (I'm avoiding asking for advice to the person diagnosed--we get so much advice our heads spin and spit).

I think there’s no one answer. You offer the adult one kind of support when their partner is living with and fighting ovarian cancer. You offer the eleven year-old son of the melanoma patient another kind of support entirely. Truthfully, I’m not sure what I would have welcomed at fourteen. I was a prickly kid and I have a cellular horror of anything resembling pity. We’re going to be FINE, get off my BACK, just give me a butter knife and I’ll take the tumor out MYSELF. I can say this without feeling too pompous; you are the person giving support don’t get to decide what form that’s going to take. You might feel like having a good long cry with the family member. They might feel like talking about anything but the cancer. The family of a person fighting cancer gets one thing over which they have control and that’s how they’re going to deal or not deal with it.

3) How do you feel about questions (brilliant, ridiculous, incoherent or otherwise) with a lot of parentheticals (which may or may not be an attempt to avoid commas)?

Since a usual sentence for me would, if written, contain more subclauses than an insurance rider, I’m awed and fearful of people who don’t need my precious parentheses. I’ve actually learned to talk in parentheses.

4) Would you like to take this opportunity to clear up your prior statement that some unknown breed of dog called a Boykin something or other is your favorite breed of dog when actually you meant that "Beagle" (particularly diabolically cute beagles named Seamus that have survived cancer against all odds) is your favorite breed of dog, right after any dog that was rescued from a shelter and given a second chance?

And then there are Beagles and they are very good and brave and only bay when it’s totally necessary. To prove my love for the fair beagle, I will now offer a beagle story; the woman who runs the rescue group where I work has a beagle who comes to work. There he sits most days, overrun by cats; the elders ignore him, the teenagers try to pick fights with him and the kittens use him as a climbing toy. Throughout, his tail never stops thumping (Although it must be noted that he does enjoy sneaking a little kitty food when he can and has been known to sneak a cat-box treat if no appears to be looking). In short, he is the embodiment of the beagle’s good humor, adaptability and style.

5) What are you currently working on writing-wise (besides blog interview questions)?

This is it for right now, because it’s taking about two hours a day and it’s summer time and my daughter is very present and I really ought to parent her.

6) What book do you wish you had written and what book are you glad you didn't write?

I wish I had written “Don’t Get Too Comfortable,” by David Rackoff. I wish I had written “Play it as it Lays,” by Joan Didion. I wish I had written the “Pigs in Heaven” series by Barbara Kingsolver, because she wrote a boyfriend character for the lead I finished the book totally crushed on, and it would have been nice to keep him in my head for the years it took to write them. I won’t say which books I’m glad I didn’t write, because someone out there likes them.

7) Why was this your favorite blog tour stop to date and what could possibly top it?

Well, being able to clarify the terrible beagle misunderstanding brought a lot of peace to my soul.

See, that was worth the digression, wasn't it? Also worth your time is her blog: QCReports.blogspot.com

(If you have a blog and would like to interview Quinn, you can also accomplish this amazing feat. You need only go to her blog to find out how. But you may not ask any dog questions that in anyway defeat the glory of the beagle.)

Seamus and I would both like to thank Quinn for stopping by the blog. And neighbors, he only bays for a reason. Got that??

Catching Up and Clarifying

I kinda figured I'd be getting a few comments about Thursday nights post. I just wasn't expecting the phone calls I got. So okay, first, I didn't have a bad childhood. I had an unusual one, but no better or worse than most. And my family is no stranger than yours (although it might be a little more, shall we say, extended). It's just the nature of families. And Valerie--of course I knew you were kidding and you aren't leaving me for those inspirational women. Please. With your attitude, they won't have you at their table either! As I said, there's a reason we're friends. And it's not for inspiration. It's got a lot more to do with the laughs. In fairness, I will share with the readers just how emotionally supportive I've been to Valerie (aka Louise to my Thelma...which will become clear in a moment). But let me be clear--she was a great support to me Monday night and has been through this whole cancer "journey."

Once upon a time, many years ago, Valerie and I ran away from home together, leaving the husbands behind (quite literally) and preparing for the imminent divorces. We shared a condo in Palm Springs. Not too much later we were cheering ourselves up over Cadillac margaritas at El Torito, when in walked Valerie's husband. With a date. My heartfelt and sympathetic words to her? "Well, um, if it feels like life is kicking you in the teeth right now, I'm just going to confirm for you that it is." That's all I had for her!! No "you're way prettier than she is" or "God has a plan" or "Quick, go stand by that super hot guy at the next table." No, nothing helpful or at all inspired. And she's still my friend! I think she even laughed. God I hope I bought the drinks. And I just realized my coping mechanisms haven't changed in 15 years. I'm still hanging out with sarcastic friends and sipping margaritas.

So those are my clarifications. Phew. When did everyone get so sensitive? Is it the cancer?

Now for some catching up. First, I feel great today. Great. As normal as I've felt I think since this whole thing started 3 months ago. I even slept solidly for 9 hours last night. 9 hours!! today I had enough energy to clean off my desk, write an article for Area 9 magazine, catch up on some emails and have a glass of wine with a friend and another one at dinner with Chris! And I haven't even had a nap.

Other things I pretend you care about: the cards have kept arriving (thanks Barbara Ryan! And Ricki, Trudi, Marcia, and Barbara Moore....and anyone I may have missed!). And Betty Rowe dropped off at my office the perfect gift during "hives" week-- a big bottle of Seasource Detox Spa Shower and Skincare gel!! I like it a lot and it seems to be soothing the skin quite nicely. I don't even think she could have known, the timing was so quick and perfect. And today Seamus unintentionally outed his little helper that previously dropped off the Cakebread Chardonnay. Seems the co-conspirator tried to sneak up today and drop off a bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir to congratulate Chris on his Blogbos award. But Seamus was alerted by something at the gate and set off the alarm (howl). Chris looked up from his desk and saw none other than ZEE BEARD at the gate!We invited her in and shared a glass. Of course, we also swore we'd pretend not to know and said she was welcome to drop off wine anytime. Anyone is, actually. It's the next best thing to appearing at my gate with a beagle.

Also, Wisconsin has checked in and shown the love. Thanks Pete and Heather Klug! In fact, the only states who haven't shown the blog love are: South Dakota (I broke my arm there; you'd think they'd care); Kansas, Oklahoma, Mississippi, Alabama, Delaware, Rhode Island and Maine. Not bad, huh? Oh, and 29 countries are now lit up on my beloved Google map. We've added South Korea, Austria, Croatia, Japan and Brazil.

And lastly, I washed my hair today. Pretty exciting for a bald chick, right? No, really, I washed the red wig. It seemed time. And yeah, it was a little weird to wash hair in the sink--while standing up straight. And it looks a little weird in the sink too. Drying it is a trick also. They give instructions on the wig shampoo bottle that get you right up to "rinse with cool water." Then I was stuck holding this mass of wet hair, wondering...squeeze? towel dry? comb? Hmmm.I opted to squeeze out the water, put the wig on its little metal holder thing (even I could figure out the styrofoam head was not an option for a wet wig) and use the wire brush ever so gently. Then I used bobby pins to hold back the sides in what I'm sure will be a futile effort to get it to dry so those stupid little hairs don't fall in my face. I'm sure I just created weird creases in the sides of my wig. I'm telling you, this was not a wimpy experience. Expect more scarves.

Hanging with Seamus on a Sunday

Chris headed down to San Diego today on a much earned reprieve from caretaking to join BRIEN and RORYANN CLEMENTS (Restaurant Omakase but you must know this by now!) and JULIE and BOB DE KORNE (of Ciao Bella--another very good Riverside restaurant with excellent martinis;) to attend the California Family Winemakers tasting event in Del Mar. I still can't be around crowds; I'd never last that long and I darn sure can't drink that much, so rather than be a wet blanket I stayed home like the ugly step-sister. And I'm even red-headed now! That's Julie in the picture with Chris. Roryann is sending Facebook updates every so often. It's almost like I'm there, but without the wine and the food, so really, not at all. After my day of medical bills and taxes yesterday and then missing out on such a fun event today and instead staying home and working (you know, to pay those medical bills), it was hard not to launch into a full blown pity party. I came close. More than once. I hovered in the yellow/orange zone. But luckily I had Seamus and he abhors pity parties. If you suffer from depression, get a beagle. Then get some food. You'll be endlessly amused and laughing in no time. Seamus even convinced me to take him for a walk (this is when I was explaining to him that I am fat, and ugly, and now broke; he was sure a walk would cure all of that. He wasn't far off. My perspective returned.) That's two days in a row of walking! For me, that's like a full-blown exercise routine. I'm sure I even worked off the Lay's potato chips I ate at some point during the pity party (because come on, what's a pity party without potato chips? And Lay's is the perfect food--oil and salt with just enough potato to hold it all together. Perfection.) I'm thinking keeping busy is somewhat key to this positive attitude thing. Just maybe not busy with a bag of chips.

And speaking of more positive (yeah, I'm stretching to connect things here) an interesting email from a stranger reading my blog arrived the other day. The author was reaching out because of reading Chris's rant, and then mine, about our horrific experience at Quest Diagnostics last Monday. She offered up some useful information on how to make it go better the next time. Apparently Quest takes appointments and this can be done even in an emergency. And she gave me a website to go to to make the appointment which also helped me find a much closer (and fingers crossed--less crowded) location. The website was simple enough: www.questdiagnostics.com and there was also the Quest Diagnostics Patient Services Center link. And then interestingly, Quest has partnered with Google in a service called Googlehealth which will allow you to keep your medical records online all in one place, easily accessible for future use. Unfortunately, that's not available in California yet. Finally, there is a way to get lab results online (that'a a link I hope) if your physician is signed up with Quest. I have to get my physician to sign up first, but there's a handy little letter I can print out and bring to her to discuss that possibility. Now, none of that is going to make Ms. Bryman recent grad respond any faster should my white blood cells disappear again, but the appointment may shorten the wait, I now know to ask for the lead person in the Patient Services Center to explain my situation (dire), and that I can give them my cell phone number and go wait in the safer, warmer, more relaxing car until it is finally my turn. I will test some of this when I go in on Tuesday for the blood test to make sure I'm okay for chemo on Thursday. Starting with making the appointment. At any rate, I thought it was awful nice of a total stranger to reach out like that. Thanks!

And last but not least, my father called to agree that I look like my brother with my new shorn look. He also thinks I look like my mother in the red wig (they are long, long divorced and I didn't dare ask if the similarity was a good or bad thing). I think I look like my mother in the wig a bit too. My mother, who declined to comment, did say she would get my brother to read the blog to see what he thought. No word so far. But this will prove my point:
This is me with my two sisters and my brother (in age order oldest to youngest left to right). Note how none of us look alike. My brother looks exactly like our dad, my older sister looks like our mom, and my younger sister looks like her mom (this being my family, my sisters do not have the same mother; you probably figured that out). I look like nobody--when I have hair. Or at least blonde hair. A little from dad, a little from mom, a little from those Vikings that pillaged Ireland 100's of years ago, but no one in particular. And it's always been that way. Now, look again at me with no hair. I finally look like somebody in the family! Okay, so it's my brother, but at least I know I wasn't left on the doorstep of some random people. It took cancer to know this for certain. And since my brother and I actually have the same two biological parents (trust me, this is also uncommon in the mix that is my family; only partially shown in this photo), this makes some sense. Jay totally needs to start sporting the hoop earrings.

That's it for this Sunday. I think I may have to do a little wine tasting of my own this evening. Judging by Roryann's latest update, Chris will not be home for a long, long time. Something about a wine list with 2500 selections. And it's 10:15pm and she sent this "live" photo of the meal they are having at Pamplemousse. Okay, now I am depressed. This was Scallops and truffles!!!! They didn't even save a bite! Even Seamus is depressed (he loves him some scallops and truffles). Lay's potato chips cannot make up for this.

Yes, Noooooooooo and Maybe.

One of the many things Seamus and I have in common is that we hate being told no. And of the two of us, he probably has the more mature response to the word. Tell Seamus "no" and he will howl at you. Up in your face howling. Many a conversation in our house goes like this:
Me: "Seamus, No!"
Seamus: "Arrooooooooooooooohooooooooooooooooooo"
Me: "No!"
Seamus: "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!"

That can go on for a long time. Or until I crack up laughing and give in to whatever he was trying to do in the first place. So Seamus never actually "hears" no in any meaningful way. I'm not so lucky.

Today I realized that I had to call the doctor's office to ask if I could do two things I very much wanted to be able to do this weekend-- go in the jacuzzi, and go to Phoenix for Beaglefest '09. See, we have this wonderful spa tub on our back patio with a gorgeous city and mountain view. We're quite fond of sitting out there soaking in the tub, unwinding and sipping some "adult beverage." I miss it already. I've heard and read that we chemo folks should avoid jacuzzis. But then I was thinking (hoping) well, maybe they mean public ones. Like hotel pools and stuff. That would make sense. But I realized I'd have to ask.

And then I found out about this Beaglefest in Phoenix, Arizona that just sounds hysterical and for whatever reason Chris and I have both been feeling like we wanted to go on a road trip. Where we go, so goes Seamus--so Beaglefest was perfect. They have a "melodic voice" competition, along with a "first to come when called" and "last to come when called" competition. Seamus is a sure thing in two out of three of those. Eventually it dawned on me that Sunday, the day of the event, will be day 11 of chemo--and days 10 to 14 are when they expect my white blood cell counts to drop and thus my abilitiy to fight off infections is weakened. So could I be around a crowd of people and a bunch of dogs? Dang it. I was going to have to ask again. I can see this is going to get annoying. I've mentioned this before--the hard part is remembering that I'm sick.

So I called. I got a "yes" and a "maybe." Yes, I can go to Beaglefest. Woohoo!! I just need to be careful, take a thermometer with me and keep checking that I don't have a fever, not get run down, leave if I feel tired, and not kiss any dogs. Okay, I can do that. The maybe was over the jacuzzi. Basically, I can go in the spa--but only for 10 minutes max. What's the point of that? I won't have even warmed up. Sitting in the spa unwinding with a glass of wine becomes jumping in, downing a shot, and jumping out. Suddenly my life is a bad reality television show. Oh well. This weekend we'll be busy driving five hours to Phoenix, staying at a pet friendly hotel, eating at an outdoor restaurant (bet we aren't the only ones there with a beagle), going to a Beaglefest for a few hours on Sunday and then turning around and driving home. Who has time for a soak in the spa?

The "no" part of my day was self-imposed in part, but still cancer's fault. As some of you know, for the past three years Chris and I, together with our partner Rachel Pommier and her winemaker husband over in France, have run wine tasting tours in southern France (Rhone Valley twice and Burgunday/ Beaujolais once). These are either writing retreats with wine tasting or all wine all the time trips. We all agreed today that, all things considered, we weren't going to be able to do it this year. My role in this endeavor has mostly been the "marketing"--which is to say I "pick up" people at writer's conferences or convince my friends they really need to go wine tasting in France and stay on a gorgeous vineyard in Rachel & Raphael's B&B (tough, tough sell). Since I can't go this summer, that's a little harder to do. It's also hard to be working on planning the itineraries and all the "business" details on top of everything else now. Oh, and the economy sucks, you may have heard. Even if we could have waited until August to do the trip, I had to be realistic--I'm going to have to stay put and make up for all the lost time at work. Yeah, I had to tell myself no. And believe me the "no France this year" realization had me howling "Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!" Even Seamus was impressed. Or frightened. It was hard to tell.

But, Words & Wine will come back full strength in 2010. We're thinking 3 different trips--the writing retreat (Words & Wine), the "all wine all the time" trip (Vine & Wine) and a cooking/food & wine tour (Whisks & Wine).
Anyone want to join us in France in 2010 for a giant "I kicked Cancer's butt" celebration?
There will be wine.
Lots of wine.
www.wordsandwine.com